Mrs KC of England is still with us and has sent some historical imagery.

Here follows the contributed story and illustrations by Scott :-).

- CELIA'S PET PROJECT -

Celia was a Lab Rat.

At least that's what she and the other scientists and technicians called themselves; the Biotronics Corporation Lab Rats. The name probably came from the anonymity and de-humanization that were byproducts of their uniforms and the enormous size of the Biotronics facility where hundreds and hundreds of staff milled like ants; or perhaps more like rats in a maze. Each looked much like the others, dressed in his or her unisex isolation suits, air mask and the hoods they had to wear in the laboratories. It was most difficult to tell the women from the men and the sterile environment was made even more Orwellian by the countless stainless steel tables brimming with the equipment, wires and tubes of science.

Ironically, in this antiseptic and featureless environment, pieces and parts of humans themselves were being created. Different departments developed and refined artificial bits of bone, cartilage, tendons, and ligaments, and a battalion of scientists was trying to reproduce nearly all the other internal organs with varying degrees of success.

Celia's department concerned itself with the creation of the largest human organ: the epidermis, and her team's goal was a strong, natural-appearing, synthetic substitute, especially targeted towards burn and large abrasion victims, or those with degenerative skin diseases.

Her private life was, to put it gently, wildly unorthodox. She was the only thirty-six year old she knew who wasn't a mommy, nor was she anyone's wife, lover, or even girlfriend. It was not that Celia was unattractive. Far from it! Her height and body was proportionate to her weight; her skin was clear, and her face was beautiful. Neither was it that she was particularly anti-social, psychotic or a deliberate loner, but the reason for her extended ‘singleness’ was her unique sexuality. She was an utter pervert: so much so that she believed in her heart there was no real chance of finding a true soul mate.

Her interests ran from leather, to rubber, corsets and very high heels, bondage, humiliation, and above all, she had a deep, wide, masochistic streak. Celia owned all manner of pornography, piles of bondage equipment and a closet full of tight, uncomfortable, punitive fetish wear and spent hours and hours every evening in front of the computer with waist cruelly cinched into a leather corset. As well, her legs were always sheathed in seamed nylon or latex stockings and her feet locked into ballet-toed, ‘en pointe’ thigh boots. Her ankles were snugly encircled by rubber-lined, steel cuffs and these were joined by a far too short, five inch chain. Each night Celia’s mouth was invariably occupied by a jaw-stretching penis gag held in with a myriad of thin, locking straps. Shoulder length latex gloves were always part of her nightly wardrobe, as was the merciless steel posture collar, but the true gems of her collection were the very rare, locking nipple clamps affixed to the apexes of her breasts.

These clamping shields were ingenious in that they tormented their wearer unmercifully, yet allowed blood circulation into the nipples and so permitted them to be left locked on indefinitely. Once they’d been mounted into her flesh and locked on, Celia was utterly unable to touch any part of the entirely of the tips of her breasts and removing them would have involved painful, disfiguring surgery. She enjoyed locking these clamps onto herself; torturing her nipples, then mailing the keys to herself, thus ensuring that she’d be trapped in the hellish little devices until they were returned in the post a day or two later. This game continued until one time they didn't turn up when they were supposed to. Six agonizing, awful weeks went by before the keys finally showed up and the Post Office had had the gall to mark the envelope as ‘insufficient postage’! During the entire time the clamps hurt her terribly, but there was no escaping them, for they worked in conjunction with the deep piercings in her nipples, holding the sensitive flesh stretched and clamped inside. She’d spent hours and hours each night, and a lot of time during the days, attempting to somehow stave off the threatening tears from the pain of her intimate imprisonment, but had not tried to pull on the nipple caps, for the additional pain was just too intense to be borne without screaming.

Celia's evenings were nearly always spent in the same way. Upon arriving home she quickly changed into her fetish clothing and equipment, then locked her bondage equipment keys in a timed-release safe. Next, she’d scarf a little dinner, do her household chores, then go straight to the computer and once there would cruise the web looking for stories, pictures, new devices and fetish items. Celia would frequently stop off at the chat rooms and while she browsed the world's perversions, would masturbate and bring herself off dozens of times a night. Although she met lots of people on-line, she refused to let anyone really get close to her for she had things exactly the way she wanted them.
Morning brought release from her self-imposed punishments when the key safe would buzz and unlock, allowing her to change back into her regular, daytime persona, but she played another game as well; one that helped carry her through the boring hours of work and public responsibilities. Grocery shopping, auto repairs and so on were much more entertaining, for under her regular clothes, she always wore some sort of fetish apparel, often in conjunction with discipline devices she so loved to play with. The primary rule was that it had to lock on. The keys stayed at home and so she would be unable to stop the torment going on beneath her lab coat or street clothes.

Corsets had also long been a favourite item and were a dedicated, daily ritual for Celia. Through years of tight lacing both day and night, she’d achieved a remarkable, eighteen inch waist. It wasn't the incredible fifteen inches that ‘Spook’ displayed on her web page, but Celia was quite proud of it. On a typical day, she’d lace herself into a long-line, heavily-boned leather corset; pulling it tight to the point of dizziness. Her more extreme corsets started with a locking collar, then carried down over her shoulders, all the way to two inches below her hips and came with two, small apertures at the front that she’d have to pull and massage her D-cup breasts through. Before doing so though, she’d lock on the tensioning nipple clamps, put the key into the lock safe and only then proceed. When finished with this always uncomfortable process, the result was a pair of bouncing, perfectly round bright red orbs, protesting at their cruel root-cinching and from that point on with every movement Celia made, she was constantly and painfully reminded of her femininity when her breasts surged with horrible intensity against the constriction of root-cinching and the compression of the corset. She’d next fit herself with another daily torment; a small but very strong chain running from one thick-gauged nipple ring to the other, routed up and behind her neck. The chain was decidedly punitive, being deliberately too short for comfort and the result was that the weight of her round and freely moving breasts was supported almost entirely by her nipple rings. She called it her chain bra and within an hour of locking it in place, always regretted putting it on, but by then, it was far too late for the keys to the locks had already been deposited in the lock safe.

Getting dressed for work always involved bringing herself to at least one climax and instead of conventional panties, Celia next locked her privates away under a steel chastity belt; often with the addition of a painfully large intruder that kept her abused anus stretched wide around it's girth throughout the day. The belt's wide, impenetrable front panel effectively stopped her practice of sneaking away to the ladies room to masturbate: a habit she was trying to break due to suffering job performance. She’d complete her undergarments by adding a pair of shiny, white extra control stockings fully tensioned on her legs by the corset's eight garters. She loved the way the tension and compression squeezing her from thighs to toes like the latex ones she always wore at home.

The medical scrubs, lab coat and the isolation suit covered everything and so she was a quite demure picture ... on the outside. She wore comfortable and practical (ugh!) white, low-heeled medical shoes were, but hated them and counted the moments until she could be back en pointe in her ballet-toed, stiletto punishment boots. Flats were for men!

While at work she had to put her sex on a back burner, and there it would sizzle quietly through the day for she was prohibited both by her Isolation Suit and the hidden chastity belt from relieving herself. It had taken years of practice to learn to focus exclusively on her work, ignoring all the stimuli signals her body was frantically sending, but the certainty of the unyielding steel encasement helped, and since she’d begun wearing it every day, her work productivity had increased threefold.

Celia and the other eight members of the Epidermal Research Division had developed a wide variety of amazing prototypes of artificial ski and were able to match every human colour, all the different textures, and thicknesses. So far they’d had a ninety-four percent success rate in overcoming host rejection of the new patches, and that number was improving, but the most remarkable thing to come out of the computer-driven chemical vats was the ‘carte blanche’ genetic program. The new skin was alive for about twenty hours after being generated and had the unique and amazing ability to mimic the host's own genetic code so that over a period of twelve hours after application, it actually became part of the host. Nerve endings would generate, hair follicles would form and the edges would meld with the undamaged parts of the original skin. It was their crowning achievement.

However, along the way to their present success, the ‘skin team’ had run into many dead ends and produced a lot of material that didn't work. Some artificial skin had dissolved; some had been nastily rejected by the host's bodies; much of it didn't look at all natural, and some of it even shrunk and became stiff and super tough when subjected to heat. Over the past year, Celia had covertly dabbled with some of these failed experiments and kept aside a number of samples of the dead ends that had unusual properties. She had an idea in mind: what if she could create a shiny, rubber-like product that could be made into fetish apparel? After work and sometimes on a weekend or holiday, she’d would work on her pet project with the idea that her masterpiece was to be an all-in-one fetish costume; one that would fit her exactly and in effect be a second skin, but one that could be removed.

The material she was currently working with in her private experiments was a glossy, red patent; somewhat stretchy and supple, and she’d found that by increasing the thickness of the material in key areas then applying heat it would become stiff and unyielding. After much programming, Celia was ready to give her latest effort a try. She’d previously had the computer scan her body with it's precise measurement lasers, then used the CAD program to create a three-dimensional model of what she wanted the skin generation unit to create. Exact thicknesses, material compositions and selected ‘cook’ areas to be subjected to high heat in order to alter their make-up were placed in the command structure and ready to be implemented. The only thing the machine didn't create were the titanium alloy shoe portions and eight inch heels but Celia had had these created for her (at considerable expense) at a metal fabrication shop.

The day finally arrived when all was in readiness and one night, the ‘skin machine’ was left to it's task, for it would take hours to generate then shape Celia's request before it could begin to heat treat the specific areas per the blueprint. The ‘add prosthetics’ function of the program made it possible to include the titanium stiletto shoe and heels and she could barely contain her eagerness to see the result. To avoid discovery, Celia planned to come in early the next morning and collect her finished prize before anyone else arrived. Her hopes were high, but her expectations of realistic success were more limited, for there had been dozens of failed attempts at this project. All of her previous efforts had come out too soft, too stiff, too brittle, or had torn too easily. One early failure had shrunk to half the necessary size and had the texture of beef jerky!

Celia's arousal had been at full throttle the entire time she had been working on the final programming for her latest attempt at the perfect fetish suit and the potential and mental images had her at the edge. Would this be the one? She’d shuddered with a small climax when she’d activated the ‘generate’ code function, then driven home carefully, focussing on the road. She couldn't afford to get into an accident in her present state of bondage and it was definitely time to get home and get the chastity belt off and achieve blessed relief!

Thirty minutes later, she was writhing on her living room rug; the chastity belt cast aside, as were her surgical scrubs, lab coat, support hose, and the accursed, low-heeled work shoes. She’d rapidly squirmed into the shiny, red rubber, ballet-toed thigh boots then ensured they wouldn't come off by snapping on her steel ankle cuffs joined by the five inch chain. The boots were a source of deep arousal for Celia, for they fit her very tightly from toes to crotch. Her right hand pulled cruelly at her nipples and their chain bra, while her left frantically spanked and fingered the myriad of piercings embedded in her clean-shaven pussy. Her sphincter clenched convulsively around the thick plug that had stretched it through the day while her head thrashed back and forth and her hips bucked with animalistic need. When her orgasm arrived she screamed from the intensity of the release and lay in gasping, breast shuddering spasms until it subsided.

While recovering, she wished she hadn't been in such a hurry to lock on the ankle cuffs, or at least that she hadn't hurled their keys into the time-locked safe for the night. Now, she was trapped in them, forcibly kept en pointe in the boots until morning, and she had lots to do! There were bills to be dropped off and then a far bigger problem occurred to her ... she had to be back at Biotronics at five am to collect her latest creation before anyone else came in! The time-lock safe that held the only keys to her restraints and it wouldn't open until six! Oh shit!

There was no question about the requirement of getting it out undetected. She had to pick up her creation, for it would be out on the Finish Area's trays where everyone would immediately see it upon their arrival. Humiliation and embarrassment weren’t the problem; where that resided was that she would undoubtedly lose her job over the episode. The machine cost millions of dollars and the raw ingredients weren't cheap either. Biotronics Corporation would take a very dim view of what they’d definitely consider misuse of equipment and theft of materials and resources.

She returned her thoughts to her predicament. The keys to the heavy duty zipper that secured the leather flap over the laces of the corset she’d worn all day were also locked in the time-sealed safe, along with those to her ankle cuffs. Celia thought furiously. Her car had an automatic transmission so there was no clutch to depress and so she’d still be able to drive, even with her ankles so closely hobbled. She’d drop the bills off after hours and if she got to Biotronics early enough, could probably make it all the way to her division and back out without being seen. She’d have to try, although it meant thousands of tiny, five inch long steps in the ballet-toed boots. Celia began to get turned on again, just thinking about the danger of public display she’d be risking.

Good judgment faltered in the face of sexual urge and an hour later Celia had ‘dressed’ to go out and pay her bills. Her chain bra had remained fastened as were the locking nipple clamps; all having being set at full stretch that morning, and now horribly punitive. The all-covering shields pointed up and slightly outward from atop Celia's agonizingly root-cinched breasts, but their keys had also been deposited in the d safe for the night and so there was no way she could free her tortured flesh! Her anal intruder had been removed and she’d used an enema to cleanse herself, but now, an even larger plug had taken it's place in her pert bottom. To add to her self-imposed torment and arousal, she’d also inserted a thick, ribbed vibrator with new batteries into her glistening, hairless pussy. Now, every few seconds, she gasped mindlessly when the heads of the two oversized intruders bumped, pushed and vibrated against one another through the thin flesh wall separating them, but she could not remove them either! With trembling and semi-frightened determination, she’d once more locked herself into the chastity belt, then placed its keys in the safe to ensure the huge intruders stayed put for the night.

Next had come a high-necked, totally sheer, red latex dress. It stretched across her tormented, chain-confined breasts and being very short, it's hem stopped a full three inches above her ballet-boot tops, thus fully revealing through the translucent material, the gleaming steel of the crotch panel that held the secret shafts so deeply within her body. Shoulder-length latex gloves finished off her clothing ensemble, bright red to match her boots, and for good measure, she’d locked the mirror-polished, stainless steel posture collar around her throat, over the high neck of the dress, then slipped it's key through the slot and to join the others. She was very securely imprisoned in her outfit until the safe opened.

A few moments later Celia left home to complete her real world, domestic chores. Immediately while she strutted out to her car in tiny, chain-limited paces, she felt a wonderful, sexy, delicious agony.

‘The vibrator may have been too much!’ she thought to herself, settling gingerly into the driver’s seat.

Having done what she’d needed to, three hours later, she’d had to pull to the side of the road with yet another inescapable orgasm. The unstoppable vibration of the monster shaft within her sex was carried through the structure of her chastity belt and rattled incessantly against her anal plug so that her entire pelvic area vibrated with it's incessant hum. The vibrator had three ‘D’ cell batteries as its power source and so would run through the whole night, slowing somewhat, but not enough to allow her any respite from its constant stimulation. What should have taken only an hour took three due to the unrelenting, forced orgasms and the tiny hobbled steps she was limited to by her far too short ankle chain. As she had feared, and, truth to tell, desired, she’d been observed by a number of people; all of whom had stared openly at her outlandish rubber outfit. Some had even been close enough to hear the subdued buzz of the vibrator, hard at work within her pussy and Celia’s embarrassment had served only to fuel her fires while fantasizing about walking through malls or into bars and restaurants in the fetish ensemble she was now a prisoner in.

After returning to her apartment, she spent the next hours on the computer hopping from site to site, orgasming again and again from the unrelenting hum of the big vibrator. She got an extra kick from turning on her digital camera when getting close to her climaxes; knowing that hundreds or even thousands of strangers were watching her being pushed right over the edge. Finally, exhaustion took over and she dozed fitfully, having unspeakable sadomasochistic dreams.

BBBBZZZZZZZZZ!

Four am! Celia lurched awake, sweating, her heart pounding. It was time to go. She’d finally managed to take off the see-through rubber dress before passing out, but still wore the shoulder-length red latex gloves. They were the only part of her outfit that wasn't locked in place, but she decided to leave them on, for, at four am it was chilly outside. She paused only long enough to urinate through the slit in the chastity belt (fortunately, she’d purchased the model designed for extended or even continuous wear), then threw on a knee length, long-sleeved lab coat to cover the rest of her punishing costume, but it served only to bring even more attention to what she wore under it.

The cursed vibrator was still running amok within her loins, albeit much more slowly now, and so she wobbled out to her car again, moaning softly while the thick intruders bumped and jostled for space within her body. Half an hour later, she was at the immense Biotronics facility. It took her fully fifteen minutes of determined tip-toeing to complete what was normally a two minute walk from the parking lot to the building then she used her ID card and gained access, praying she wouldn't meet up with one of the Security Officers who constantly prowled the grounds.

The squeaking and rubbing of her latex-covered thighs sounded very loud while she made her way slowly through the huge building and soon, the resulting buildup of friction in her wildly rolling pelvis was too much. She couldn't hold back yet another helpless, hip-thrusting orgasm or the stifled moans that surged unstoppably up her steel-encased throat. The high posture collar forced her turn her torso, craning left and right to make sure she was alone and finally, she was at the Finished Item trays for her department and there it was! Celia picked up the supple yet in some areas, somewhat stiff body suit and examined it with a trained, critical eye. It looked perfect. The lustrous material shimmered and shone like nothing she’d ever seen before; catching and reflecting seemingly all the lights in the building, causing the illusion of a glowing, inner light source. The suit's slender leggings terminated at the built-in, titanium ballet-toed shoes and heels, for they’d been bonded perfectly into the suit and the join between them was seamless.

"Identification please, Miss!" a deep, authoritative voice ordered.

Celia felt faint and suddenly her heart was trying to beat it's way out of her chest! She turned around to face her inquisitor: a large man, taller even than she was, even perched on her toes! His head was clean shaven, and he wore a goatee, looking like that huge wrestler on television. His uniform left no mistake that he was one of the humourless, scowling Security Team that constantly moved through the Biotronics facility and grounds and she knew she was in deep trouble.

"I-I'm Celia Foregood and I'm a design technician, Level 12, Department 15. He-here's my ID. I just came in early, to um ..."

"Design Techs and science personnel are not allowed in at this hour, Miss Foregood. Furthermore, I'm going to have to run a check on the Project Number for that item you’re holding. I suspect it's not got a lot designation, or an approval code."

Celia was about to burst into tears. How could she have been so stupid!

"Look, sir, please, um ... no, you're right. I don't have a code and I'm really sorry I'm here when I'm not supposed to be, but please, couldn't you ..."

"Ma'am, I believe you’re in possession of more than one piece of Biotronics property. You appear to be wearing on your person more of the same type of material you're holding."

"No, please, this is mine! I just don't have the keys to take any of it off right now! You see ..."

"I'm going to have to ask you to remove your lab coat, Miss Foregood." The guard took the new body suit from Celia's trembling fingers and laid it aside.

"Really, what I have on is mine! I swear! I don't have to prove to you ..."

"Now, please Miss Foregood!" The guard admonished, taking a step towards her.

"Okay, okay! Please, just don't blow this up into ..."

He took a half step forward and Celia quickly doffed the lab coat, reluctantly placing it in his outstretched hand.

She blushed hotly while he examined her fetish outfit and the cuffs on her ankles. Her bobbling breasts throbbed and her tortured nipples ached even more fiercely during the uncomfortable, silent inspection.

"What you're wearing appears to be similar material to this other piece of Biotronics material. I'm going to have to take you into custody, ma’am. Please place your hands behind your back."

Celia was shocked to see the guard draw a pair of handcuffs from their sheath on his utility belt.

"Oh God! Please? No! Please! You don't have to do that! I won't, I mean I can't run! Please?"

Seconds later her hands had been securely fastened behind her back and the guard’s big hand grasped her upper left arm. He began marching her smartly towards the Security Office, holding the new body suit in his other hand, bringing it along as evidence.

It took a few moments to get there thanks to her five-inch long strides, but he moved along quickly with his thick fingers completely encircling her arm, uncaring of her chain limited paces. Celia stumbled constantly, desperately attempting to keep up with him, feeling the authoritative snap of her hobble with every minute pace she took. She distractedly wondered why he’d showed no reaction to her outlandish costume, even though all she wore was her punitive corset and chain bra, toe boots, shoulder length gloves, chastity belt, steel collar, and ankle cuffs ... and his handcuffs! Her breasts jutted straight out before her, nipples trapped within their hellish shields and so, technically, she wasn't naked she supposed while fighting back tears of despair.

Inside the office, the guard made her stand in the middle of the floor with no chair offered and it seemed like a bad idea to ask for one. He picked up the phone and started to dial, for the police, she supposed.

"Sir?" she said, her voice begging, "Sir? Please? Can't we come to some kind of an arrangement?"

She lowered herself awkwardly to her knees in her bondage to kneel before him, breasts out thrust, lips parted, trembling all over.

"I'll do anything! Please, let me ...?" Her eyes filled with tears, and her heart pounded in fright. She couldn't go to jail!

She was surprised and relieved to see him set the phone down, then he stepped in front of her, saying nothing, but with an eyebrow cocked. It was all the permission Celia needed and she wriggled forward then used her nose to open the flap to his zipper. Finding its tab, she grasped it between her teeth and tugged it down. He wore no underwear and so she was able to pull his manhood out, using gentle teeth and fervent lips. He was enormous and swelling rapidly.

Celia licked and sucked with frantic energy, for this needed to be a perfect blow job! She had to convince him to let her go! He was thicker even than the big penis gag she was accustomed to and she had to strain to keep her teeth off his manhood while taking him deep into her mouth to the point where he was hard against the back of her throat. She had to time her breathing, for sucking a cock, kneeling and bound in a stringent discipline costume, Celia's own fires soon leapt to a roaring inferno. Within moments, she was whimpering around his throbbing maleness, her own pelvis gyrating and thrusting against the restriction of her chastity belt. The rubber monsters locked inside her moved and ground, but not enough, and she cursed for imprisoning herself in the chastity belt, because actually, she frantically wanted this great big man inside her loins, not her mouth!

It was not to be. Only he reached orgasm, making her gulp down his hot ejaculate while she was left short of her own release, mewling and rubbing her thighs together in frustration. He gave her a gruff, approving nod then zipped his fly and picked up the phone. She listened in shock.

"Yes sir, I have her here. Yes, the suit as well. I'll bring them right up. Thank you, Sir." He helped her to stand again.

"But I ... We ... Aren't you going to let me go?" she whimpered.

"Of course not!" For the first time his face cracked into a partial smile. "The boss wants to see you in his office. Actually, we've been expecting you."

She hated him for what he'd done! The humiliation of having been used for a free blow job burned within her psyche and she was furious, embarrassed, and yet very, very turned on. While she was being led through the fortunately empty lobby, Celia noticed a clock and grimaced at the irony. It was six am and across town a little safe was opening to allow her the keys to freedom. As it was, her next stop would probably be the city jail! Then would come court appearances, and finally the penitentiary for felony, grand theft.

The elevator climbed fifteen floors to the penthouse offices and while en route Celia wondered which executive she was going to be brought in front of to be formally fired, then began to cry quietly. Wobbling along on her toes, she caught the name on the door plaque: Stanton Hanley, VP Research & Development. The guard held her arm firmly, on course to the middle of the luxurious black marble-floored office. The walls were a light honey oak, the statuary looked expensive and to top it all off, a small fountain bubbled happily in one corner.

The man behind the desk steepled his fingers while leaning back in his chair; somehow seeming to look down on her, even though he sat and she stood. His suit was dark blue or black with hair cut high and tight so that he exuded power. The guard handed over the shimmering red suit.

"Thank you, Johnson. That will be all for the moment."

"Sir." The guard responded.

The thick, ornately-carved wooden door closed quietly behind the guard on it's well-oiled hinges and she was alone to face her judge: Mr. Stanton Hanley. Shivering in the air conditioning, she wished for her lab coat, or just that she had been released from the handcuffs so that she could attempt to conceal and protect her embarrassingly presented breasts.

He contemplated her for long moments, then finally spoke in a deep, commanding voice.

"I’ve been following along, watching you formulate the plans for your costume." He lifted the red suit and let it slide back through his fingers to the desk. "Quite ingenious really. Fine workmanship and a nice, simple design. Of course the problem is that you have duped the company we work for out of quite a lot of money. I’ve added up the costs of what we’d have charged a customer for what you've made, and the resultant total for technology development, materials, facility costs and machine running time, put you well over the three hundred-thousand dollar mark." Celia gasped, then moaned aloud.

"If ... If you knew what I was doing at the beginning, why didn't you stop me?" She asked in a desperate voice. "I can pay the company back if you let me keep working. I can sell my condo ..."

"That is not an option I am prepared to offer." he stated implacably.

A small light began to break at the end of the tunnel for Celia. If this man was going to send her to jail, he wouldn't be having this meeting with her, would he? He continued.

"After I discovered your project, I became interested in you Ms Foregood. In fact, you became somewhat of a hobby for me. I took the liberty of prying into all of your affairs and so if you had a feeling you were being watched ... you were correct. Small cameras were planted throughout your home and even in your car.”

Celia's eye's became very wide.

"What do you want me to do?" Celia asked in a stunned voice. She was tired, shocky, and an emotional wreck. A short silence followed, then he spoke again.

"I want you to wear this for me." He stated simply, lifting the suit. "I want you to put it on, then I want you to be my plaything while you wear it."

‘That's it?’ Her mind said. ‘I might've done that for him anyway without him having to scare the shit out of me! Besides, it's the weekend, and if it takes a day or two of games to make this guy happy, then this is all water under the bridge.’

"I can do that." her mouth said while relief began to flow through her. She wasn't going to jail, and it sounded like she still even had a job.

"Good." he said laconically. "I trust you recognize this?" He placed Celia's time-lock safe on his desk. "I had one of the security team pick it up for me when I saw what you were wearing into the building. Oh, incidentally, they enjoy watching you on your house cameras as much as I do."

Celia winced and turned beet red.

"I even considered turning you into an internet site, but was pretty sure you’d soon discover yourself. Well! Let's get you changed, shall we?"

An hour later, Celia had been unlocked, stripped, showered, dried, oiled, and dressed in her new creation; all under the watchful eye of Stanton Hanley. Removing the vibrator and butt plug from their recesses in front of him had been humiliating to the core, but the suit was everything she’d hoped for. It was an exact fit, tighter than latex and much more sensuous; stretching over her entire body in a perfect, wrinkle-free finish. It covered almost every square inch from finger tips to pointed toes, and the titanium, ballet insteps and heels were the best fit she'd ever had.

Even her head was covered. There were openings only for her eyes mouth, nostrils (with small tubes deeply inserted), and her ponytail. The eye holes though had had a disturbing addition made; one she’d not programmed into the machine! Each was now covered by a thick, plastic lens, but with the as-yet-undisclosed capability of being made to become completely opaque, thus blinding her utterly, She had yet to find that out and when she did it would scare her utterly.

Another addition to the helmet that she’d not planned on was that it was quite thick over and around her ears, and inside each of these side-of-the-head panels was a small plug that slipped deeply into her ear's canals! As soon as they slipped into place and the helmet’s zip had been closed, she found herself totally deafened, but almost immediately, a small click had sounded and she was able to hear again.

Her clean-shaven crotch was fully exposed, as was an opening at her anus, and like her corset, the suit forced her breasts out through too-small openings, turning them once again into trembling, taut, round melons of inflated flesh the size of cantaloupes. And too, they were again held well away from her chest by two inch ‘sleeves’ around their bases. Stanton had refused to free her nipples from the terrible, locked-on cones and so they remained fully imprisoned, clamped and stretched unmercifully.

Another odd thing about the suit was that it tingled where ever it touched her flesh! Although the sensation wasn't unpleasant, she’d not expected it, and so wriggled against the compression and sensation, trying to somehow alleviate or escape it. What she didn’t know was that her movements were only aiding the unforeseen consequences of the suit being worn.

Stanton had made advance arrangements for his absence and Celia was informed that she was to ‘entertain’ him at his home. To her consternation, he’d again locked on her high, stainless collar, her pitifully short ankle hobbles, the chastity belt (sans plugs), and the guard's handcuffs, then leashed her before they departed the office for his car. Mercifully, there was no one in the private elevator at this hour. Celia felt utterly bizarre, exotic and yet highly aroused at being so helpless and controlled by a leash held by a man she didn't know. She was soon led out of the building to a dark, sleek Jaguar, sitting alone in the lot and the ensuing ride to his home was a blur of sensations. The handcuffs were uncomfortable, even in the Jag's plush interior, and smiling, he’d sensuously caressed her thighs, torso and breasts then looped her leash over the rear view mirror. The quiet rumble of the Jag’s engine together with the over powering smell of the leather interior, then the scenery flying by at high speed nearly overwhelmed Celia. Being in deep trouble wasn't too bad ... so far. Her new Master was an enigma.

Stanton's home fit her expectations exactly for it was huge, elegant, and set well away from his neighbours, deep within extensive grounds. She’d tried to slither down in her seat when the guard at the gate waved them through, but either he didn't see her or took no notice. When they pulled up to the house, a butler emerged immediately and opened her door while Stanton reached across and handed him her leash. She blushed horribly, but the man made no expression of surprise at her appearance and bondage; merely helping her to her feet while maintaining a secure grip on her tether.

"This way please, Miss!" he instructed brusquely, tugging on the glittering chain tether.

‘Of course "this way" Jeeves!’ she thought, suppressing a small chuckle. ‘I'm a woman on a leash!’

She was quickly led down a long corridor then into a large foyer where he looped her chain over a hook on a sturdy coat tree and departed without a word.

Celia stood in the corner of the foyer for a long time while shifting her weight from toe to toe, waiting for her ‘host’ to re-appear, then was surprised and even relieved to see a maid emerge from an adjoining room. The maid's outfit was classic ‘French’, but with some notable modifications. The corselet of the her bodice was cupless, leaving her large, tanned breasts naked and outstanding and Celia noted that her nipples appeared to have been tattooed an unnatural, deep red. Too, they were held terribly stretched inside small, conical cages and their tips bore heavy, stainless rings, connected by a thinly-linked, but obviously strong steel chain with a heavy bell locked to the central link, betokening her presence and every movement of the pendant flesh to which the chain’s ends were anchored. The maid's widely flared and frilled skirt fell short of covering her nude, shaven sex and additional tinkling notes sounded when she walked due to a small bell hanging from a ring that deeply pierced her clit. She wore the classic, black, seamed, fishnet stockings and black patent heels that must have been, Celia estimated, a full seven inches high. The maid could not escape her punishing foot wear because each shoe was equipped with a wide, steel ankle cuff and connecting straps that doubled as ankle hobbles, for fastened between them was a ten inch chain. It was welded to the cuffs with no locks!

No conversation between the two bound women took place. It couldn’t, thanks to the tight-fitting and cupping gag that covered the maid's entire lower face; it being held securely in place by a web of thin chains spreading from the face cup up. These went over and around her head, through her lush hair, and terminated at the nape of her collared neck, where each end was fitted into a purpose-designed circular lock. Her cheeks bulged, indicating the size of the large plug in her straining mouth with no possibility of being ejected. The maid’s short, dark hair revealed her neck nicely and thus the snugly fitting, tall, steel collar around her throat but with no lock. It too had been welded closed! The maid dusted here and there, gave Celia a broad wink and a sharp pinch on the ass, then disappeared, moving on to the next room.

‘Hard to find good help.’ Celia thought, both shocked and intrigued by the sight of the maid and her exacting costume.

A few moments later the butler re-appeared and asked Celia to follow him after unhooking her leash, but this courtesy was only lip service thanks to the fact that he once again controlled her with it. The shiny red cat suit continued to itch and tingle while she hobbled down another corridor behind him, then into a great, high-ceilinged dining room. To her dismay the suit also seemed to be growing steadily tighter, all over, especially around her waist, chest and she was becoming increasingly conscious of a feeling that she was standing especially straight. How could it pull her shoulders back like it was doing? She’d not designed that capability into the suit! However, she soon forgot the sensations when she saw plates of breakfast food waiting on the long, elegant table. It seemed odd that there was only one chair placed at its head.

Stanton emerged from another door, his outfit having changed to a red silk robe over matching pants and slippers. He looked casual and relaxed while seating himself in the lone chair with a newspaper in hand, then at last he glanced up at Celia and the butler who were both standing expectantly at attention.

"Please remove Miss Foregood's chastity belt and help her to the table, Winston."

With a dignified nod, the butler drew a familiar looking key from his pocket and a moment later, Celia was free of the tight, stainless restraint; the cool air on her exposed crotch making her shiver. The butler then grasped a startled Celia around the waist and deftly carried her to the table then placed her kneeling on it about five feet from the master of the house. He efficiently arranged two heaping plates of food; placing one before each of them and glasses of juice were poured and placed accordingly. Celia was starving and couldn't wait to dig in.

"Um ... Help?" she asked politely, and held her hands, still cuffed behind, out towards the butler.

“Of course, Madam." Ignoring her outstretched hands, he produced a drinking straw, placed it in Celia's juice glass, then with that withdrew. Stanton glanced up from his breakfast and newspaper.

"Problem?" he asked, with a raised eyebrow.

"No." Celia sighed and bent at the hips to begin eating without the aid of her hands.

Before her lips reached the first morsel, she heard a hissing ZING! and a line of fire was entrenched across her buttocks, eliciting a small scream from her shocked mouth.

"No what, Missy?" a female voice demanded from behind her.

"No SIR!"

Thwack!

“OOOOwwwww! No, Master! No Milord!"

"Good. A quick study. I like that in a slut."

The whip-toting maid, obviously now free of her gag, appeared from behind. Celia knew where she stood, (knelt) and didn't want to incur anymore wrath.

"Please Mistress, may I speak?"

"You will address me by my proper title, which is Slut Marie. I am the maid and estate fuck-toy. I may deny no one access to any part of my body. My position is second lowest here. You are lowest. Now, what do you wish to ask, Slut Celia?”

"May ... may I eat?"

Marie cocked an eyebrow.

"Of course, silly. It's getting cold!"

Celia began licking and slurping the eggs, bacon and hash browns from her plate, then heard bells chime when Marie slid up onto the table behind her, and gasped when she began stroking her pussy.

"Slut, put your bottom up in the air as high as you can! Good! Don't stop eating! Now, arch your back and look pretty. Stick your little pussy out for me!"

Celia ate as best she could with no hands and Marie continuing to lick her protruding mons while her breasts tugged demandingly at the restriction of her chain bra.

"Slut," Marie said, "I quite like all these pretty piercings you have down here. I especially like these two through your clit and hood." She tugged on them playfully.

"Th-thank you, Slut Marie!" Celia gasped between bites of food and all the while her nipples throbbed painfully within their constantly punishing shields.

"Perhaps Master Stanton will allow me to attach your leash there, then take you for a nice walk after breakfast. Would you like that?"

"Y-y-yes, please, Slut Marie!" Celia paused for a moment, enjoying Marie's busy tongue and intruding fingers. "Ah ... i-i-in fact," Celia continued in a quiet, disclosing voice, "I fantasized about being led on a pussy leash when I had those rings put in.”

Stanton looked up from his paper, an eyebrow arched. Marie's tongue was too much and Celia couldn't stop the orgasm that engulfed her.

"Yyyyeeeesssss, pppplllleeeeaaassssse, Slut Marie! Ooh, oh, oh!! Yyyyeeesss!” Swept away with it, she moaned with ecstasy.

In fact it would be a number of hours, ten to be exact, before Marie snapped a lead onto Celia. However, it wasn’t to be her pussy, but her nipple rings! The promised after-breakfast walk was put off due to Master Stanton's raging erection and an hour after breakfast, accompanied by Marie, he’d whipped, paddled, clamped, bound and tormented every available inch of Celia's body, right through the suit. It seemed that wearing it enhanced the sensations they inflicted on her! Very strange. He’d also enjoyed each of her openings repeatedly with his long, thick cock until finally, the three of them passed out for a well-deserved, post-coital slumber, arising only when the butler announced that Tea was served.

When she awoke, Celia immediately noticed that her chain bra had been removed, but the suit (she still wore it!) had grown even tighter and now squeezed her firmly from finger tips to toes, and even her face and head! It was not really unpleasant, but the part that gave her the most distress was in the corset area of the torso; this having shrunk even more than she thought it would. In addition, the suit had developed an even more stringent posture improving, shoulder brace! Now, they were pulled uncomfortably back, forcing her to stand erect with chest out thrust, presenting her bobbling breasts in total vulnerability. From the openings around their bases to her waist and hips, the suit had become much, much smaller and stiffer and seemed to have lost most of it's elasticity, in effect having become a heavily-boned, true corset! She found a full length mirror and gasped at the sight of her waist, for now it was far smaller than she had ever seen it and there were no visible seams or laces! It came as a shock when she realized that it would have to be cut off, if she was to escape it.

‘Well,’, she thought, ‘I'll only have to wear it for today, tomorrow and probably Sunday. I can probably stand it for that long, but thank goodness he’ll have to release me to go back to work on Monday!’

Later in the afternoon, Celia was once more locked into her chastity belt, but this time with both of the huge shafts reinserted and a fresh set of batteries in each. These were actually hi-capacity power cells that would run for days at full output before needing recharging via plug-in jacks, or, they could be powered by ordinary house current. What she didn’t know was that these plugs were remotely-controlled and so of course could be activated with no one being anywhere near her when she was tormented or tantalised. Too, they were much more capable and talented than the mere toys she’d previously employed. Not only were they extremely powerful vibrators, but also capable of flexing and twisting, to say nothing of their ability to extend themselves to a full eight inches in length and/or swell to a three inch diameter, or shrink back to only a two inch intrusion. Each also had the additional capability of delivering either teasing or paralysing, painful shocks, but of course Celia wasn’t told of any of these talents. She’d find out soon enough.

Celia’s arms were next moved behind her back, then slowly and carefully bent into a full back prayer by the butler while the maid stretched and massaged her shoulders to accommodate the extreme positioning. Despite her moans and desperate wails of discomfort, Stanton insisted that the bondage be fully enforced and within thirty minutes they held her arms in place, high up between her shoulder blades. As soon as this was done, Stanton fitted her wrists with two inch wide, stainless steel wrist cuffs joined by a single thick link and from this, a very short chain was drawn up and locked to the back ring on her tall, stainless steel posture collar. To Celia’s ensuing horror, to make matters even worse, equally wide, snug-fitting cuffs were clasped around her upper arms, just above her elbows! These were linked very closely with a small, heavy lock and another short chain descended from its shackle to be locked to the central back ring of her waist band, thus forcing her to stick out her breasts even more! The discomfort quickly became intense and she wept unashamedly while writhing her upper body to somehow ease the pain, but of course there was no escaping the awful predicament. The resultant posture forced Celia's breasts to thrust obscenely out and up with her shoulders thus pulled cruelly back, and of course she complained bitterly that they ached abominably, but Marie only provided her with aspirin, muscle relaxants, and a large penis gag.

All during the process, she’d been kept leashed, unable to escape her tormentors, for the other end of the chain was securely locked to a wall ring. When they were finally done with her newest bondage, Celia was left alone in the room, still tethered, and for the following two hours she attempted to come to terms with her helplessness. Much of the time, she howled and moaned into the gag even though the pain slowly decreased and a numbness of her pinioned arms began to set in. At last Marie re-appeared with a looped, glittering chain in her gloved hand.

“Walkies?” she asked with a happy grin at Celia’s tear-streaked face.

Celia tried to twist her upper body in futile attempts to beg for release from the incredible bondage, but her pleas were ignored while Marie attached a forked nipple leash to the rings at the apexes of her rampant breasts. These anchoring points were immediately dragged painfully upon by the weight of the dependant chains and the sensations would soon become much worse and compelling, for Slut Marie intended to use sharp tugs on the leash to get Celia to move as she wanted her to. Upon feeling the dangling weight on her nipples and inflated breasts, she shuddered with building arousal, but was still leashed to the wall ring!

"No more complaints?" Marie asked. Celia rolled her eyes and groaned while Marie disconnected the leash from the front ring of her high collar. "Good! Then come along !"

She gave a sharp tug on the nipple leash and Celia squealed madly from the discomfort of the harsh tension on the bobbling fleshy mounds defining her femaleness, then fairly leapt to obey. Her effort was notably inadequate though, for her slender ankles remained locked into their hobbling cuffs, connected by the five inch chain, and too, the ballet-toed, high heels built into her fetish suit also proved to be a further obstacle to unhindered movement, despite all the practice she'd had en pointe.

Moments later the two fantastically clad women strutted slowly down the path in the private gardens, taking tiny, rapid paces. Marie remained limited by her own welded-on, ten inch hobble chain and seven inch heels and truth to tell wasn’t much better off than her captive, but each of her paces covered twice the distance of Celia’s and so a constant, painfully arousing tugging was continually applied to Celia’s nipples and breasts. About a quarter mile into their walk through the estate’s grounds, Marie finally spoke.

"I must admit, slut, (wink) that you're taking all of this very well."

"Mmmph!" Celia replied and gave a little shrug.

"I mean, I can't believe how calm you are! When Master Stanton told me he'd changed the formula on your skin suit to make it grow permanently onto you, I ..."

She was interrupted when Celia's garbled scream tried to fight it's way past the huge penis gag locked into her mouth. Wide-eyed, Celia inhaled and screamed again and again, fighting crazily against the stout bonds confining her wrists, arms, throat and ankles. Marie clutched the leash tightly while the hysterical and nearly apoplectic Celia yanked frenziedly at it, despite the horrid pain that flooded through her breasts when her tethers jerked at the nipple shields and deeply set rings.

"Oh my God!" Marie cried with a shocked look. "You didn't know?"

It was at that point that Stanton, still inside the house, activated both dildos, and secretly, under her chastity belt’s crotch cover plate, the hysterical, leashed Celia was deeply skewered when they slid up into her belly! Her tear streaming eyes flew open with shocked disbelief while they advanced further and further into her, then began a writhing, humming dance within their straining, super-sensitive fleshy tunnels. For a moment she stood transfixed, then her hips began an automatic hula of arousal while the sensations built higher and higher. Marie watched with amusement, for she’d known this was coming, just not when. A nearby bench became her immediate destination and she tugged firmly on the wildly flailing chain to Celia’s bouncing and straining breasts, to get her to move from her place on the path. Bursts of maddened howls hissed from Celia’s tubed nostrils while she struggled toward the bench, her whole body shivering and twisting like a snake with its head cut off. Under their thick plastic lenses, her eyes alternately snapped into wide-open disbelief, then clenched closed while her internal muscles attempted to stop or somehow control the flexing monsters in her belly.

Nothing she attempted stopped the powerful evolutions of the plugs and upon reaching the bench, Marie let her sink onto it then lay down, always maintaining a firm grip on the breast leash and tugging on it to enhance the voyage Celia had been forcibly embarked on. Back at the house, Stanton added the next irresistible sensations and suddenly, the vibrating and twisting monsters within her loins began to emit strong skeins of electrical energy! The captive on the bench squealed and screamed like a banshee into her efficient gag when the pulses transfixed her, but only whistling blasts emerged from her widely dilated nostrils. She couldn’t escape their depredations no matter how she tried and was soon forced into a full-blown, hysterical, masochistic orgasm, all the while writhing dementedly.

Stanton was by no means done with her though, and added in her next tribulations. The lenses over Celia’s eyes suddenly went completely opaque, plunging her into a world of depth-less night, even though it was only mid-afternoon! Inside her helmet Celia’s widened, staring eyes saw nothing and no matter how she twisted her head, she remained enfolded in a velvet, oppressive, black void. Another long set of bursts of tantalizing and then torturing pulses transfixed her shuddering loins and she screamed dementedly while her hips bucked and bounced in a maelstrom of sensory overload.

“Wow! That’s friggin’ incred-...” she heard Slut Marie partially exclaim.

All sound disappeared! Celia’s hearing was entirely removed by the plugs in her ears and the sound deadening material over and around them when Stanton activated the noise canceling option.

When that happened, Celia then existed only as a feeling and sensation filled ghost in her own world, while unspeakable things were done to her. The only connection she had to the world around was from the frequent painful jerks on her breasts and nipples by Slut Marie, but otherwise she was kept blinded and deaf while the assaulting monsters in her belly did their evil dances.

Hours later, Celia was led in a stumbling haze, still blind and deaf, back to the house and placed in a sound-proofed basement cell. Once inside she was leashed to the wall by a chain from the back ring of her collar, then her nipple chains ascended tautly to a dangling ring and were locked. Celia remained securely in her black and soundless universe, then in the lonely silent, early morning hours, she was again set upon by the monsters buried in her body behind the steel crotch plate. Buried and locked in her secure cell, no one heard her wailing pleas and screams for escape from the titanic sensations that continued to explode through her body and mind while she lay on her now thoroughly numb, back prayer fastened arms. With every sideways twist or attempted roll, her nipples and breasts came under an immediate, strong tension, adding even more to the witch’s brew of emotions and sensations she was required to endure.

It was but the first of many nights Celia would spend like this.

EPILOGUE

It took Celia several months to adjust to the permanence of the bright red fetish suit she’d been imprisoned in, and the now constant captivity. Actually, she no longer ‘wore’ the suit, for in effect it had become her own skin and if she suffered a scuff, a cut, or a whip mark, it repaired itself to it's original shiny state in a day. Her tough new epidermis maintained it's brilliant, polished appearance everywhere on her body and oddly, her fingernails and nail beds appeared, but her toes and their nails were gone forever, encased within the shiny, ballet toes of her boots. No hair, other than the pony plume at the top of her head, came through the new skin and her nerve endings had grown all the way in after three weeks. Celia became aware that she was actually quite naked but for her restraints. Right from the first time it had been applied, Celia’s arm bondage had remained unchanged so that she was kept permanently in the back prayer bondage. She remained totally helpless and dependant on Stanton, the butler and Marie, but her hands, arms and shoulders were kept in good health, thanks to a nightly application of electronic muscle stimulus pads. As well, she was kept continuously hobbled after they’d been locked in place that first day at the estate and for additional security, she was always leashed, mostly by her breasts, and also required to wear the chastity belt and its deep intruders at any time she was not used for Stanton’s satisfaction.

Many nights she’d awaken alone in her sound-proofed cell, finding herself deafened and blinded when the computer-activated the dildos began to both punish and arouse her, then spend hours howling madly pulling at her bonds and leashes while they rapidly drove her to forced, phenomenal, masochistic orgasms. Now though, Celia wasn’t a prisoner, for she’d been told she was welcome to leave. Instead, she’d elected to remain as a possession of Stanton Hanley, always now confined by her demanding bondage. Her bondage was the primary condition of being allowed to stay and she’d readily agreed, having become deeply addicted to the extreme sensations he required of her.

Celia’s permanent, new outfit caused quite a stir among the guests that attended Stanton's numerous, lavish fetish parties, especially when he explained to his guests just how controlled and helpless she was. He finally bowed to the flood of requests for copies and variations of Celia’s suit and a quiet new department of the Biotronics corporation was born. Stanton acquiesced to Celia's only request that as the suit's designer, she wanted all future Perma-Skin suits to incorporate a corset and shoulder brace like hers, ballet-toed thigh boots, and that like her own, the wearer's nipples must be locked into the same permanent clamps that she wore.

They’re selling an amazing number of these suits, and there's a wonderful story to go with every one. Perhaps some one who has read this will relay a tale of a different girl, and her adventures while wearing another Perma-Skin suit.

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And here, below are the images supplied by GlovedSurgeon :-). Hope you get a few twinges from contemplating what may be occurring :-). More images of this part of the scene can be found at: http://www.fetish.dyns.cx/

Steve (Mumph@t140e.com) has been kind enough to send along some images of his costume, being fascinated with the experience of the Human Canine, as are a great many folks. Not my thing, but I'm really impressed by the costume and dedication that Steve has for his own part of the kink spectrum.

Here's some nice work from the Gag Order web site. I think you'll find a visit to them will definitely prove of interest and in addition to the artwork, there's a large selection of stories there too that will keep you going for a few hours.

Fury-Fantasy has supplied a couple more images of their fabulous horse's heads and some of the tack they make.