Wendy’s Woes (an Altairboy female chastity story)

Secret’s Revealed

Over the last couple of years, Wendy had began to uncover her fetish side.
She always thought that bondage and the like were too bizarre and anyone who
would participate in such activities was nuts. One night She and Tracey had
been bar hopping while on a long weekend in Florida. They ended up in a multi-level club that had four different floors. Typical joint that is trying to
appeal to everyone’s senses. On the roof was an open bar area, not music,
just a good spot to drink and smoke under the stars. The top floor was
playing Country music and the main floor was all dance music. But the
basement was the most entertaining. Very heavy music and virtually everyone
clad in chains and leather and anything else you could think of. Although
they spent most of the evening on the main floor, Wendy could not get that
basement out of her head. Somewhere there was a dark side that was
completely consumed and fascinated by it.

After returning to West Virginia the whole scenario continued to haunt her.
Tracey was disgusted by the whole thing and refused to even talk about the
whole idea. But upon returning to her little apartment she slowly turned
into a closet fetish fanatic. She relentlessly surfed the web for bondage
websites, bought the occasional magazine or catalog, even rented a couple
X-rated videos, but never purchased any of the actual equipment. She thought
that if someone found a magazine she could blow it off as junk mail. But if
someone found a pair of handcuffs lying around, they would surely think her
some kind of freak. This behavior went on for about a year until she met me.
It was another year before I uncovered her secret side.

I was living in Ohio at the time and traveled to West Virginia on business
as well as to take in the sights. Would usually spend 4 to 5 weekends a year
rafting on the many rivers in the area. I had met Wendy while camping one
weekend and we hit it off immediately. Even though there was about four
hours of travel time between us, we started to date and become quite serious
over the course of the year. Whenever I was in town on business or on
vacation I would crash at her apartment instead of picking up a motel for
the time. Occasionally she would drive to Ohio, but not often. Just after
our one year anniversary I had drove down to go rafting on Saturday, but the
weather was so miserable and cold that I bailed and opted to just hang
around the apartment all day with Wendy. It was raining cats and dogs and
neither one of us wanted to set foot outside. Wendy had checked her e-mail
that morning and had left the computer on while in the shower. Since I had
showered earlier, I jumped on the computer to check in at work and surf the
web until she was out. Forgetting that I wasn’t on my system, I
instinctively went into bookmarks and clicked on some of the bookmarks.
Instead of my usual sights, I uncovered one bondage site after another. As it
turns out Wendy was into heavy metal, and I don’t mean the music.

I was still sitting at the computer starring at some helpless female as she
got out of the shower. While walking past the bedroom I blurted out “Wendy,
I think you have some explaining to do.” She was shocked at first, she had
never told anyone about that part of her life for fear of how he or she
would react. Now, the whole story was falling apart in front of her. There
she stood naked in the hallway dripping wet and shivering from the cold,
totally exposed inside an out. She stammered trying to explain the whole
thing downplaying it as much as possible fearing that I would break up with
her instantly. I let her continue on for twenty minutes before saying a

“I wish you would have let me know about this. At least we could have
discussed it.” Still fearing for the relationship she tried making excuses
praying that I would accept one of them. Finally letting her off the hook.
“You know I’ve always kept an open mind, and you know that I would do
anything for you, if you are interested in this, then let’s explore it some
more.” She was so relieved, to think after hiding these feelings for so
long, she had finally found someone who doesn’t think her a total freak. We
spent the rest of that rainy afternoon thumbing through old catalogs and
magazines, searching websites, and bouncing ideas off each other about how
far the other would go. Although I had no previous inclinations towards
bondage, by that evening we both knew that some restless nights tightly bond
was in her future.

About two weeks later I was insistent that we meet in Pennsylvania for a
weekend getaway. I did not inform her that I had made an appointment to have
her fitted at a mail-order fetish store about an hour’s drive from the
hotel. Friday was pretty tame, dinner, dancing nothing too impressive. But
Saturday we drove to a warehouse out in the sticks. She was soon turned over
to the staff that greeted us in the lobby. They began by taking every
dimension possible from every inch of her body. After nearly an hour of
solid measurements, she was placed in a box the size of a coffin. The box
was then filed to the rim with thick grayish cream. She could feel the
weight of the dense liquid crushing her body. As the material cured it
continually shrank around her torso until it was completely hardened about
three hours later. For three hours she lay frozen and naked under the weight
of what seemed like a ton of solid urethane. Every inch of her body, face
included, was completely covered and could not move an inch. She learned
later that urethane mold would be used to create an exact duplicate of her
body. This personalized mannequin would be used to custom fit any outfit
that she could conger up. She was so relieved to be free of her urethane
coffin, not to mention completely horny, over the day’s activities that she
could hardly wait to get back to the motel room.

While she was being measured and duplicated I had been busy browsing through
their enormous selection of stuff. If ever you needed anything, this company
had it in stock or would be willing to make it for you. I had selected
various off the shelf bondage gear and ordered a couple of special order
materials that would need to be custom-fit to her personal mannequin once it
was complete. As we drove back to the hotel, she could barely keep her hands
to herself. With a false sense of hope, I pulled off to the side of the
road. She thought for sure that her efforts had paid off and I had pulled
over to relieve our mutual frustrations. Instead, I quickly spun her around
and placed her hands and arms into a zippered glove that fully encased them
up to her elbows. She remained that way for the remainder of the ride back:
arms secured together, breasts jutting out like a pair of missiles. Once
back in the motel She desperately cried to be let free, but that was soon
silenced by the ball gag inserted into her mouth. Once tightly gagged her
thighs and ankles were secured together using two pairs of cuffs. Trapped
again, motionless and unable to talk I left her alone in the hotel room for
the rest of the evening. Part of her wanted me dead on the spot, the other
had been waiting all of her 25 years for something like this.

That hot sticky July evening was shear hell and sheer joy. Wendy had never
been so frustrated and so turned on at the same time in her entire life. Her
arms had lost all feeling from the thick leather glove, thighs and ankles
were chafed from the heavy metal fetters worn all the restless night long,
her jaw was in pain from being pried open so long. And even though she had
not eaten in nearly 24 hours, she could think of nothing more than unbridled
sex once released from the binds Sunday morning. Leaving for home that
afternoon was the hardest thing we had ever done. We both knew that my
production line in China did not start up smoothly as planned. My boss had
been delaying an extended trip overseas for some time but could not delay it
much longer. I was sure that in the next week I would be working with the
plant’s engineers nursing the production line back to health for a month
minimum, perhaps longer.

About a month later, almost midway through my trip, Wendy received a box
from the mail-order store and rushed inside to try on the contents. Inside
was the breast harness with attached collar. The solid steel orbs were
slightly larger than her naturally ample breasts, but the steel was close to
3/8 of an inch thick and covered with semi-spherical balls lining the
inside. In order to fit each cup, each breast had to be lubed and forced
into its appropriate cup. Once in place, she had to feel around through the
opening at the tip to position her erect nipples through the steel sphere.
By the time the steel cups were in place, she was already moist with
anticipation. Locking the clasps shut on the inch-wide metal straps behind
her back pulled the cups tight against her chest exerting great pressure on
her breast and distended nipples. Then, with the collar locked in place
there would be no repositioning of the harness and it would prevent
insertion of anything under the cups until both locks were released. A
perfect match! The mannequin was well worth the three hours judging by the
initial fit. Her once tan breasts had been turned into silver spheres of
stainless steel. Her beautiful long neck that she loved to have caressed so
much had become a rock hard gleaming tube of metal. She immediately called
to find out when my trip would be over. I really think she called just to
see how worked up she could get me.

The next month past slowly and she began getting braver. It was now mid
September and sweater weather was in full swing. She found herself hiding
the collar and cups under turtlenecks and all sorts of clothing at work.
Although the cold weather was hell on the steel apparatus, her body temp was
anything but cool. She had also made a few purchases of her own, a pair of
metal cuffs for her ankles, thighs and wrists made from 3 inch bands of
stainless steel. She also bought a 5-inch pair of stiletto heels and a
6-inch pair of boots going clear up to her crotch. Every day dragged slowly
while desperately waiting for that first weekend in October when I was
scheduled to return from overseas. The production line was coming along but
by the last weekend in September we were just getting to where we should
have been a month ago. On the day before I was to return my boss had
requested that I stay another week just to make sure nothing went wrong the
first week it was running. In exchange for the extra week overseas, he added
a couple of extra days to my vacation so that I could spend the entire first
week back in West Virginia. I was so busy canceling plane tickets and
changing my plans for the weekend that I was unable to contact Wendy about
the delay. I was supposed to fly out Friday and arrive on Saturday afternoon
placing me at Wendy’s apartment by Saturday night. The new trip had me
leaving Thursday and arriving back home on Friday. With only one week to go the
nightmare began.

Trouble in Paradise

Another box arrived from Pennsylvania. She rushed inside to open it and
found the prized possession. “A chastity belt!” she exclaimed in an outburst
of joy and fear. This one had a 3-inch wide waistband that was at least that
much smaller than her normal waist. The front of the crotch strap was
triangular in shape and would just barely fit between her legs without
cutting into them while bending over. There were three extremely narrow
slits in the front that seemed almost too skinny to serve any purpose. The
strap necked down to about 2 inches in width at the bottom and increased to
five inches as it reconnected to the waistband. There was only a small hole
no bigger than a dime in the rear that had a notch in it that could be used
for locking accessories in place. There was also a D-ring welded to the
bottom of the crotch strap for securing anything, including herself. They
had talked about getting one but she never thought that I would go through
with it. And go through with it I had. This one had all the bells and
whistles. It was designed for permanent use no expenses were spared. Since
the metal was custom formed to her exact dimensions, there was no need for a
rubber liner. The thick stainless steel would be pressed directly against
her skin in all places. Also in the box was a rather large dildo with many
knobs on the sides of the shaft. The shaft was also hollowed out with a tube
attached to the base. The tube was positioned so that it would lead out the
bottom of the belt so that any fluids could be drained out the tube thereby
reducing possible hygiene problems. Also enclosed was a butt plug with many
of the same features. It was designed to lock into the dime-sized opening at
the rear of the belt. This plug had a small valve that could be closed and
opened by the insertion of a large enema bag. However, without the special
fitting on the bag, the valve could not be opened. This meant that she would
not be able to use the toilet conventionally while wearing the belt. She
immediately began to wonder what kind of monster she had created. Lastly was
a secondary shield, which further covered the few slits that would have
allowed access to her private areas. This shield was equipped with an
interlocking edge, which mated onto the crotch strap. Just inside the shield
was a rubber gasket that would completely seal the shield to the belt. This
would create an airtight seal between the two. She felt for sure that she
could wear the belt in public without anyone knowing. In the bottom of the
box was a small envelope labeled “KEYS: MAKE DUPLICATES IMMEDIATELY” in bold
red letters. She shucks the envelope to confirm it was not empty, tossed it
back in the box, and then ran straight for the bedroom.

She immediately started with the two plugs. The dildo slides in easily since
she was practically dripping just from unpacking everything. The butt plug
was much harder. She had never had any desire to have anal sex and inserting
the plug was extremely uncomfortable. She immediately decided that she would
have to convince me to not use either of these plugs because they were so
uncomfortable and much too large. She then continued with the belt itself.
She carefully lead the drainage tube from the dildo through the hole at the
base in the crotch strap while aligning the butt plug with the minute
opening in the rear of the belt. The butt plug clicked into place when
aligned with the hole in the belt with an ominous thud. With both items
lined up she snapped the secondary shield unto the belt and securely locked
both into the waistband. She then stood up to admire her otherwise naked
form in the full-length mirror. The fit and craftsmanship of the belt were
incredible. The large waistband crimped her figure into an attractive wasp

She immediately made a dash for her dresser to complete the ensemble when
the knobs on the dildo took hold of her. The wave of excitement threw her to
the floor as her legs turned to jelly beneath her. She instinctively reached
desperately for her privates but encountered a wall of solid steel. Her
overheated sex had already started detesting this torturous device. As she
attempted to stand while balancing herself against the bed, her sex began to
boil as another wave of excitement flashed through her body like a tidal
wave. She finally made it to the dresser and brought out the rest of her
toys. Slowly installing the breast harness about her chest and neck. Then
cuffs around her thighs and wrists. The icing on the cake was the five-inch
locking heels elevating her to a five-foot seven-inch stature. Rolling back
onto her bed she reached for the phone to dial my pager and thank me for my
latest offering.

While waiting for the return phone call she began throwing away the plastic
peanuts and various other packaging used to ship the belt from Europe. While
throwing out the plastic peanuts she again encountered the enveloped and
opened it. Inside was a brief thank you letter for purchasing the equipment.
The last paragraph of the letter read..”Enclosed is a set of key blanks.
These locks are custom made in Germany and therefore key blanks available at
domestic locksmith’s can potentially permanently damage the tumblers inside
the lock rendering it inoperable. Use only key blanks supplied through the
point of purchase of this belt.” Just as she finished that sentence the
phone rang. The note continued “The original keys have been shipped
separately to the billing address listed below.” The phone rings again. “Oh
God! The keys are in Ohio!” Almost in tears, she answers on the third ring to
hear my voice on the other end.

“Oh God Steve” she cried frantically, “the belt arrived today and the keys
are not in the box!”

“Calm down. I know the belt is made in Germany and imported through the
dealer in Pennsylvania. To prevent credit card scams they mail the keys to
the billing address if it is different from the shipping address. This way
if someone is using another person’s card they can not operate the belt. You
should have seen the video on how the guy makes those things. That belt is
indestructible, very impressive. If the keys are at the house when I get
back to the states I will bring them with me when I visit you”.

“You don’t understand, I’m wearing it now. I saw an envelope in the box
labeled keys so I thought I would try it on. When I opened the envelope
there were only special blanks to make extra copies with”.

“Oh shit, you’re kidding right? You didn’t try and operate the lock before
using it?”

“No. I was so excited when I saw it I just jumped the gun. To make matters
worse I installed all the options..”

“You did what? The Plugs! The Shield! Everything?”

“Yes, I can barely move without going ballistic. How soon can you get down

“Get down there? I’m still in China and don’t fly out till next Thursday! It
will be Friday by the time I get home. Then Friday night by the time I get
to your apartment. I can’t even confirm the keys will have arrived yet. The
belt was supposed to airship first class, but the keys just go normal mail”

“Oh no. It’s only Wednesday, I can’t wait that long. What will I do about
work? I can’t wear this! Hell, I can’t even walk across my bedroom let alone
all day at work.”

“I’d love to help you out, but I’m stuck as well. Make the best of it and
I’ll get there as soon as the keys arrive.”

The whole week was hell. The first couple of days were the worst. Every time
she moved she practically screamed. To make matters worse, she could not
control herself because of her intruders down below. The first day she had
forgotten about the drain tube and wet herself terribly. To avoid this she
located a golf tee buried in the back corner of her desk drawer. She was
able to insert the tee into the flexible tube end until a more reliable
solution could be found. However, by lunch she had another problem. She
desperately needed to use the restroom but had forgotten the enema bag at
her apartment. All the stress from being stuck in the belt, the constant
constriction about her waist and the unsettling breakfast she had eaten were
beginning to take their toll. Unable to leave she was forced to sit there in
total discomfort waiting for her body to explode or the clock to strike
five, whichever came first.

The next day was not much better. She had purchased a small valve at the
hardware store the night before to conveniently close and open the tube. She
was beginning to feel like a robot as more mechanical devices were added to
the belt. She also gave herself several enemas that were only slightly less
painful than the pressure she felt from her overflowing bowels the day
before. She had hoped to avoid having to administer one in the office
restroom since the first few ones were less than tidy. By day two she had
learned to keep perfectly still and to concentrate on anything to keep her
mind off her predicament. Even the slightest lapse in concentration caused
waves of convulsions to rip threw her body. She could only imagine what her
office partners thought of her change in behavior. For eight hours a day she
sat at her desk virtually motionless pretending to be busy at her computer
but accomplishing nothing.

The weekend was spent moving around trying to get used to the sensations
that developed as she moved. Slowly her body was adjusting to the constant
pressure at her front and back and the sensations that were constantly
developing within. By Monday she was able to walk almost naturally, but the
unquenchable fire was still burning hot below. The belt was designed to fit
tight to her body and no object, no matter how thin, could be inserted
between it and her skin. Even the belt itself was acting against her. The
steel would absorb heat from her body preventing it from escaping causing
her temperature to soar even higher. The airtight seal of the secondary
shield prevented any cooling to her sex as well. In a fit of desperation she
applied ice cubes directly to the shield but it had no effect on her at all.
By Friday she was desperate to have the device removed. She longed to touch
her soft lips once more. She prayed to sit on a toilet without the use of a
mechanical valve to relive herself. She cried nightly just wishing to take
in a full breath of air without the evil strap across her waist. The ability
to defecate without pumping herself full of liquid was almost a distant
dream that she desperately needed back.

I finally called her Friday at work with the good news. The post office had
been holding my mail since no one had been picking it up. I had arrived home
just in time to turn around and go to the post office to sign for the mail
before it closed.

“Please tell me you have the key.”

“Yes, it appears it came just a couple of days after your delivery. I am
just leaving the post office now. I need to stop by the house grab some
things and then I will meet you at your apartment around, let’s see, 4:30
now, half hour before I leave, 4 hours to get down there, figure about 9:00
or 9:30.”

“No, that will never work. Do you know that little bar we stopped at that
one time? The one right by the Ohio and West Virginia border. I will meet
you there at 7:00, don’t be late. I have got to get rid of this thing.”

Chance Encounter

This was the night she was waiting for. After over two months of complete
celibacy and one week of sheer hell she was off to meet her freedom. But she
wanted to set the tone for the evening and got dressed to the hilt. She
locked on the breast harness and covered it with a sleeveless sweater vest.
She then clamped on the 3-inch wide cuffs onto her thighs and selected a
black leather skirt just long enough to cover the bright sliver cuffs. She
then selected the full-length 6-inch boots, which covered her legs and the
clamps around her thighs. The final touch was the 3-inch cuffs clamped
around her wrists hidden by the leather gloves extending just below her
elbows. The wrist cuffs and thigh clamps were locked in place using small
highly tamper proof locks.

She arrived at the bar about 6:30 only to receive an alphanumeric page from
her beloved. “STUCK IN TRAFFIC, HOUR LATE MIN, SORRY STEVE”. Now her she was
stuck in the bar dressed to the hilt, roasting her tail off covered in
leather with no end in sight for at least an hour. That’s when a free drink
arrived at her table.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t ready for another quite yet”

“This one is on the house, the gentleman in the corner” as the waiter nods
and gives a polite point over his shoulder.

Just as the waiter leaves an unassuming man walks over and sits down across
from her. He begins making small talk with her just to pass the time. It is
strange, he does not leave an impression at all, and he appears almost
featureless and almost indescribable. Although she feels as if there is
something innately wrong with the situation she continues passing the time
and drinking out of his wallet. He buys a second drink. He offers a third
drink but she is already feeling quite tipsy although she is well beneath
her usual limit. Since it is almost 8:00 she attempts to brush him off by
refusing the third drink. Instead of taking the hint he becomes a bit
obnoxious and begins making lewd suggestions. Wendy quickly stands up to
leave and immediately passes out.

She is awakened by the load clanging of a hammer on metal followed by
intense pain around her chest. As her eyes adjust to the lighting she looks
up to see a large masked man standing above her with a sledgehammer. She
tries to scream as he swings down hard on to her breast but her mouth is
completely silent. She tries to move to avoid another blow by the man but
finds she is tightly bound spread eagle on a cold table. Suddenly the hammer
moves to her belt and continues for hours it seems. She finally passes out
form the pain in her waist from the hammering on the belt and from the
intense vibrations being conducted into her plugs. Hours pass and she is
brought to life by voices seemingly discussing her predicament.

“I think we are stuck with her, I have tried sawing these things off but had
no success. I thought it was stainless so it should have cut easily, but I
ruined three blades and did not even scratch the stuff. She must have had it
hardened” claimed the large masked man.

“Well if it is that hard, the stuff ought to be fairly brittle.” Thought the
second masked man.

“Tell me about it, but I have been beating on her for three hours now and
haven’t gotten anywhere” complained the man tapping the hammer on the table.
“Her body most be absorbing the impact and dissipating all the energy
preventing it from breaking up”

Slowly Wendy regained consciousness and realized the full extent of her
predicament. She was able to determine the she was strapped spread eagle on
a large steel workbench. She was naked except for the gloves, shoes and the
various locked components. She must have been drugged by these two men and
taken to this warehouse. Her mouth is filled with a large ball gag and is
unable to make a peep.

“I see our sleeping beauty has awakened. Boy you sure know how to pick them.
Of all the women you could have picked to sell on the black market and you
had to pick the Xena the Warrior Bitch” the second man protest as he
approaches the table.

“Well how was I supposed to know. You asked me to nab the girl and destroy
the evidence. That’s what I did. You got the girl. Her car is toast and now
you are complaining.”

“Yea and that’s another thing. Could you have at least searched the car for
valuables like keys, or anything.”

“What and risk getting my prints all over the interior, no thank you. If you
had told me she was under lock and key I might have, but you didn’t say a
word did you. She is still a catch though, there certainly must be someone
out there that would pay top dollar for a slave in such a predicament.” “Sex
slaves! Sex slaves!” continued the second man “generally sex slave implies
that they will have sex at some point in time. This bitch won’t be having
sex ever in these constraints” “Well fine then, there is no point to
arguing. I say we move on to plan B”

“Yes Plan B. Wendy, don’t bother responding. If you haven’t figured it out
yet last night you were drugged and kidnapped and brought back here with the
sole intent of being sold on the black market. But you appear to have one up
on us with your little outfit. So instead of selling you for a fortune to
some sick millionaire, we plan on cutting our loses and having our own fun
with you.”

Slowly her mind comes into focus. The keys for all the cuffs are in the
center console and her car is gone and Steve still has the ones for the
belt. “I guess this belt is good for something, at least it will keep me out
of trouble or at least from being sold as a slave” She thought she was in
the clear as she tried to survey her ravished body. Every inch of her body
was throbbing from the intense pounding from the sledgehammer had inflicted.
She was praying that they would let her go certain that she had extra keys
in her apartment.

“Yes,” booms the second voice. “Since you seem to have your mind set on not
having sex we intend to help you out”

A second wave of fear rushes through her body. “For two months I’ve been
waiting to have sex and now this happens, what are they planning”

“Turning you loose wouldn’t be any fun. I am sure you have keys somewhere
and would be able to free yourself upon arriving home. We intend to
permanently lock you in your little outfit so no key can get you out. First
your breasts. I hold in my hand a 1/8-inch diameter wire. Soon your breast
will be pierced with this wire and it will be welded to the cup, forever
securing the cup in place.”

The wire appears huge in his hand and he places it in a vice and bends it
into a U-shape using heavy-duty pliers. “Once the wire is inserted, we will
pull you nipples through the cups even farther before welding them in place.
But first want to make sure you don’t miss the show.” He grabs her elbow
length hair and begins winding it into a ponytail. A rope suspended from the
ceiling is tied to her new ponytail and hoists her head off the table. Her
head is propped up so she can see her naked semi metallic form tied tightly
to the table. Just then the first masked man approaches with a needle the
size of a railroad spike. Suddenly a sharp ripping sensation enters her left
nipple as he stabs the needle deep into her breast and forces it out the
other side. The length of wire is next. As tears pour down her pain soaked
face the wire is forced through. The procedure is repeated to her right
nipple with just as much pain if not more.

With her nipples still throbbing and bleeding from their recent decoration,
the second man approaches with a welding mask and TIG welder. He begins
peeling back the leather gloves and removes the rope from your wrists. She
tries to escape but is in too much pain from her throbbing nipples to
attempt to move. Her hands are then positioned above her head with the cuffs
closely together. In a furry of sparks the cuffs are permanently welded
together and secured above her head to the table with a short length of
chain. Meanwhile the first man has returned with a vial of solution.

“Don’t move. This junk bonds to all metal parts and solidifies them as one.
It is tougher than a good weld without the excessive heat. We were going to
weld the locks shut, but the thick mass would hold too much heat and burn
you badly. See, we are always thinking of you first.” As he laughs evilly.

He slower pours some into the keyhole for the belt and puffs of smoke appear
from the hole. As the smoke dissipates, the second man approaches again and
welds the keyhole shut just to be safe. He then proceeds to weld all the
joints on the belt together effectively making it one solid piece of metal.
He then proceeds to the thighs after rolling the leather boots down he
begins welding the thigh bands above the knees Wendy tries to protest but
can say or do nothing as he moves his way back up her body.

The breast harness is next. The metal straps, which connect the collar and
cups together in the front, are welded as one. She is then cruelly flipped
onto her front side laying face down on her tits. The throbbing increases a
hundred fold while her collar, harness straps, and chastity belt and
permanently secured from the rear. She desperately panics trying to reduce
the pressure on her breasts as the first man forces all of his weight onto
her back grinding her tits into the cold metal table. “No one said you can
move so I suggest you stop” he bellows.

“What is left?” Have we forgotten anything?” Asks the second man.

“Of course we have. You forget the feet, the legs, and the nipples” the
first man contests from his perch atop her back. “You are so forgetful” he
continues while chuckling out loud.

She screams from beneath the gag, as the thought of more abuse to her
nipples becomes apparent. Luckily you are flipped onto you back as the pain
in your breasts briefly reduces. Evilly the first man grabs the wire in each
tit and twists it cruelly and flips it up 90 degrees from the cup as she
winces in the worst pain yet. The wires that were previously threading
through horizontally and now oriented vertically with the tops of the U
prying her nipples out from the cups an additional half inch. Briefly the
first man lets go as the second one grabs it with renewed energy and welds
the ends of the wire to the sides of the harness. The same is done to the
opposite nipple as Wendy nearly passes out from the pain. Both her nipples
are now being permanently pulled and twisted via the thick length of wire
now welded atop each cup. The final straw occurs when smaller pointed cones
are positioned over each nipple and test fitted to the contour of each
spherical metal breast.

“This will prevent you from cutting the wire and removing the cups. You will
not be able to remove the cones to remove the wire. Nor will you ever be
able to caress those throbbing knobs of yours. But first the glue. This glue
was first created for the Screen Actors Guild to make applying actors makeup
and appliances faster to reduce the long days on the set. Unfortunately the
glue was so strong that it could not be used. A solvent was created to
breakdown the adhesive, but after the glue had set 10 hours, even the
solvent was ineffective.”

To demonstrate his point he applied a small drop to his finger and picked up
the phone book lying next to her with the tip of his finger. “This stuff is
as thin as water and will sneak into the smallest cracks. All I need to do
is just drip some into every opening and wipe off the excess. With in 10
minutes the bond will be set. As long as someone administers the solvent
within 10 hours you will have no problem removing the glue. But after that
you may as well throw out the solvent because it will only discolor the
clear color of the glue.” With this said he squirts some solvent on his
finger and the book falls harmlessly onto the table. He then begins pouring
glue around every metal component on her body. She can feel the cool liquid
seeping between her flesh and the metal. The excess is wiped away with a rag
soaked in solvent as her skin begins to harden beneath the metal. First her
collar and its associated straps, then the cups of the harness, then the
waistband of her belt, lastly the crotch strap and thigh bands. The tears
have stopped flowing as her tear ducts run completely dry. As the last of
her flesh solidifies inside her metal prison the second man reappears.

The second man has just returned with a couple of cans of aerosol spray with
an extremely long tube attached to each. He proceeds to insert the tube down
one boot at a time until it has reached her feet. Tilting the can upside
down he empties the can into her boots. Within seconds a gooey substance
begins squeezing around her toes and rising up her legs. Soon a ring of tan
foam appears oozing out the tops of the leather boots. The process is
repeated on her glove hands with the same effect. Within seconds her hands
and legs have began inflating to twice their normal size.

“Liquid insulation, it is a handy man’s dream. It sticks to everything and
seals it permanently and hard as a rock. Initially I was going to fill your
cunt with it but opted not to”

Within fifteen minutes both legs and both hands are rock solid and filled
like balloons. Not an ounce of movement is permitted as the second man
approaches with the cones that are destined for your breasts. “Take one last
look because you will never see those twisted nipples ever again.” He
cruelly flicks each one with his fore finger sending and additional wave of
pain through each nipple before welding the steel cones atop each cup.

With the latest level of defeat added to the outfit her hair is released
from the rope and Wendy’s head is dropped to the table. Her hair is then
coated with Vaseline and wound into a tight ball. A hose is then inserted
into each nostril and sealed in place with silicon. A pair of racquetball
glasses are then strapped over her eyes and sealed with silicon. An earplug
is inserted into each ear cutting off 90% of any noise she once heard in the
room. She is then untied form the table and suspended from her feet above a
bucket of black liquid. The ends of her nose hoses are taped to the collar
to prevent them form becoming clogged. Her entire head is first dipped into
a large bucket of the same glue used on the metal and then dipped into a
bucket of black goo cutting off all vision. She is left this way for
countless hours while the material hardens and shrinks around her skull. She
is finally laid flat again. She can barely her the muffled voices around her
and the clicking noises from the welder as her head is jostled from side to
side for hours on end.

While laying there in complete pain in total silence and darkness her body
is elevated to a new level of pain by the enormous pressures welling up in
her waist. What she can not see is the two evil perpetrators using two
enormous enema bags to fill her using the dildo and butt plug. They have
filled each one with quart after quart of engine oil and the pressures are
slowly skyrocketing within her. Wendy hangs on briefly but soon passe out
from the intense pain.

In Conclusion

Wendy finally awakens after what seems like decades. She is lying on her bed
in her room and has no idea of time, day or even the year. She goes to stand
up and finds her legs are still frozen solid. Her hands are still hard as
rocks and welded together above her head. Her mouth is still tightly bound
shut and there is immense pressure on her belt. She remembers the last thing
was filling her up and surmises that they had closed the valves on both the
dildo and butt plug without releasing the fluid. After several attempts to
stand she is finally able to sit on the edge of the bed forcing the plugs
deep inside her. As she glances in the mirror she receives the first look at
herself since she was dunked into the black bucket sometime over the
weekend. Everything she was wearing then had been welded in place and ground
completely smooth. Her legs and hands look like big balloons. Her body
appeared pregnant as her stomach pressed hard against the belt and protruded
above the waist strap. But a cruel addition has been added about her head. A
glossy PVC helmet has cured around her head. A grid of metal bars has been
welded in place over the plastic encircling her head. It appears as though
her head has been stuffed into a medieval birdcage strong enough to hold
back an elephant. The plastic that she was dipped into has been cut free
from around her eyes allowing her to take in her predicament from behind her
goggles. A hole has also been cut through the PVC at the top of hear head
where the metal bars encapsulating her skull come together. Her long hair
now flows from the top of her head like a fountain. Her bizarre haircut is
the only feature on her metal, leather and PVC body that allows her to look
slightly human. The welded bars around her head are welded to a ring around
her hair and to the collar around her neck prohibiting her from looking any
way except forward. The metal grid consists of flat strips of steel about _
inch wide by � inch thick. Each intersection is welded solidly together with
a pin through each one further adding to the archaic look of the

As she waddles into the bathroom, the plugs filling her holes quickly drive
her to a frenzy of erotic convulsions and waves of pain. As she finally
arrives near the toilet she begins fussing with the valves that have been
placed on the two hoses hanging down from the plugs within her belt. Her
rock solid hands prevent gripping the valves and can only knock the valves
around clumsily as she attempts to turn the handles on the ends of the
hoses. She has now all but given up, so close to relieving the pain in her
waist but so far from the slightest relief. Now, stuck in the bathroom
propped against the wall on her frozen 6- inch heeled legs she is forced to
stare forward at herself in the bathroom mirror. She closes her eyes, but
the reality of her situation never goes away.

Wendy is suddenly startled out of her blank stare when I rush up next to
her. Unable to here my entrance I was standing next to her contorted body.
She initially attempts to throw her arms around me, but the welded cuffs do
not allow it. She then reaches for the hoses again. She is screaming within
her gag but only the most minute muffled sounds can be heard. As I begin to
reach for the valves the full realization of the situation sinks in “Dear
God, what the Hell happened here” I had no idea of what had happened to her
Friday night. I initially thought that I went to the wrong place since
neither she nor her car was in the parking lot. I had spent the entire
weekend innocently calling her friends trying to locate her. I had even
contacted the police to file a report. I had spent the weekend alone at her
place and had left for breakfast in the morning only to return to find her
like this. Suddenly I snapped back to reality and opened the valves on her
belt. The most disgusting fluid began pouring from her body. The smell of
used motor oil and urine permeated the room. As I reached over to turn on
the exhaust fan I quickly reached back to flush the toilet the first of many
times. After the first tube began to drip and the flow slowed, I then
released the second valve and was again bombard by the smell of oil and
human waste.

Finally after what seemed like hours I was able to move Wendy’s limp frame
into the bedroom and lay her on the bed. I quickly found an old plastic
bucket and secured the open valves to the inside of the bucket to prevent
any additional drainage from ruining the bed. I then knelt down to her ear
to tell her goodbye, there was no reaction so I did not know if she could
hear my words, or was just unable to react to them. I immediately left to
pick up various tools and equipment that I might need to help remove her
from her bonds.

About two hours later I arrived back at the apartment to find her still
laying flat, but conscious, on the bed. The bucket was about half full. I
immediately began working on her face. Her glasses had become completely
fogged up making it very difficult for her to see anything. Luckily I was
able to cut the elastic bands on the glasses and wiggle the lenses out from
beneath the metal frame. I quickly established a quick system of
communication. “If you can hear me” I shouted, ” blink once for yes and two
for no.” “Are you okay?” one blink much to my surprise. “Are you in pain?”
one blink again. “Are you hungry?” one blink followed by many frantic
blinks. “Should we go to the hospital?” two blinks. “What would you like
removed next? Collar?” two. “Your hands?” two. “Your feet?” two. “Your
mouth?” one. This took a little more time but was finally able to remove a
small section of steel from over her mouth. Next I carefully cut an opening
in the PVC for her lips fortunately avoiding cutting too deeply and slicing
up her face. Once the steel and plastic were cut open the gag was slowly
extracted from her mouth. This was still extremely difficult since the
remainder of her steel head-cage was still in place. Luckily her greasy
lipstick had prevented the glue and liquid PVC from adhering to her skin
with great tenacity.

The first thing out of her mouth was “water, what day is it?” I quickly ran
to the kitchen for a glass and straw and she started sucking it down like it
was going out of style. She then began explaining the entire weekend to me
in great deal. While I prepared something to eat. She brought me right up to
the time that I found her in the bathroom and stopped. “Stuck, stuck
forever” as the tears poured over her steel helmet. With this I began
probing her body hoping to prove her wrong. The adhesive was incredible. If
not for the stark contrast between the thick bright metal and the soft tan
skin the transition was invisible. I began trying to peel the two apart but
the skin would not separate. Instead it turn red with irritation as Wendy
began screaming in pain from the force pulling at her skin. Under careful
inspection her entire breast harness; collar, cups and straps; along with,
both the crotch and waistband of her chastity belt and the 3-inch straps
around her thighs were glued solidly in place. The 3-inch wide band about
her wrists could hopefully be cut and bent since they had fit to loosely to
glue on.

Her hands and legs would be a completely different issue. The insulation had
swelled up exerting considerable pressure on her body. It had also glued to
her skin as it cured. Although long term exposure is typically not harmful,
it would be very difficult to remove. The foam was extremely dense and hard
to cut. It was also inconsistent in depth, which means it could not be cut
quickly for free of cutting to deep. Her face was in a similar predicament.
The plastic would offer some protection for her face but not enough to
protect from the saws and power tools that would be required to cut away the
steel bars. Upon further inspection the same adhesive had been applied to
her face and would not be removable without great damage.

After she consumed tons of food they began discussing how to address her
situation. She would not and could not press charges. She had never seen the
face of either of the two men and the lighting was so poor in the bar
combined with the drugs she was given made it impossible to recall that
night. Even if charges were pressed they would not be able to free her from
her prison. She then decided to stay in her trap and have whatever could be
safely removed from her body taken off as soon as possible. It was decided
that the harness and belt would have to stay due to their physical
attachment. The helmet would also stay for two reasons. The first was
because of the welds to the collar. The second was because of the PVC helmet
and the risk to her face from cutting the bars. She had all but accepted the
permanence of her current outfit. As long as she was stuck here, she might
as well look as good as possible. Removing the steel from the helmet would
leave nasty rips, grooves and tears in an otherwise perfectly smooth face.
Despite the archaic look of the helmet there was something about it that had
drawn her into the whole bondage scene from the start that she could not let
go of. Since the ball gag and glasses were removed she was able to breath,
eat and see without any complications. Her hearing was still very muffled
but could not be fixed because the glue had permanently set.

We contacted her boss on Tuesday morning to say that she had quit and to
forward any pertinent information to my address in Ohio. It was obvious that
she could no longer live alone and working would be out of the question at
least until her legs and arms were freed. I quickly dissolved her lease and
drove her back to Ohio. I had a rather secluded house and had a fairly
complete garage in which I could work to remove her bonds. Wednesday we
drove up to Ohio and parked in the garage where she could be operated on. It
was close to midnight when we finally got in and although she wanted to
start that night I had to get some sleep and rested until morning.

First thing Thursday I set to work on her wrist cuffs. Fortunately I had
acquired an underwater torch set through an auction a few years ago. I knew
I would never use it, but the price was right so I bought it. I constructed
a crude tank large enough to submerge her in while I cut off the cuffs. The
material was so thick that immense heat would be generated to cut through
the metal. The cool water should be sufficient to avoid burning her skin to
a crisp. Once the cuffs were cut they were pried open and finally removed.
Her wrists were badly bruised and scraped up from the weeklong misery they
had endured. With her arms finally detached from one anther she clumsily
embraced me with her stiff over- inflated fingers. It took a couple of days
to free each hand. By Sunday both of her smooth grossly enlarged hands were
back to their normal size but covered in a rough film that had stuck to her
hands. It would take two weeks before all of the chunks would wear off of
her hands and another four months before the fuzz and adhesive would
completely wear off.

After seeing the results on her hands and wrists she was very reluctant to
have her legs removed from there casts as well. After another week of
immobility, she realized that she could not remain with her legs completely
motionless from her toes to her waist. The additional pressure exerted on
her legs coupled with the pain from 2 solid weeks of 5-inch heels was all
she could tolerate. It took a week to release each of her legs and the
results were less than appealing. Her legs were covered in chunks of foamed
adhesive and thick scale left over from the insulation. They were so
disgusting that she could not stand the site of them. After a month of
enduring the emotional site she begged to have them covered. Eventually I
purchased a thick pair of Rubber skintight stockings that covered her from
her toes to the waistband on the chastity belt. A small hole was cut into
the crotch area for the D-Ring and two drain tubes on the belt. Another pair
of holes was cut in place so the D-rings on the thigh cuffs were allowed to
protrude through as well. A chain was locked in place through the three
rings to make sure that once the stockings were in place they were not to be
removed. Also small holes were cut out for each toe letting each little pale
toe pop out from the long length of black shiny rubber. After the toe holes
were cut in she confessed that she wished I would have left them covered.
“It’s just like my hair, it serves as a constant reminder that there is
something human beneath all of this. It would be so much easier to endure if
it wasn’t for the constant reminders. If I could think of myself as some
machine, some mechanical device, it would not be such torture”

By this point in time she had turned into the perfect submissive. She was
unable to leave the house for obvious reasons, perfectly content to stay in
the basement since climbing the stairs was far too much excitement coming
from down below. She spent the bulk of her time surfing the net and seeing
the world from the computer. Anything I requested she immediately moved to
the task. Whether she was truly a slave all along and had not known it, or
because she knew that she had no other choice. Either way I was loving life.
Although sex for her was completely out of the question, Wendy had become
quite good at oral sex and was at the ready 24 hours a day. Although any
sexual activity left her highly frustrated, she was dying to pleasure me
whenever the urge struck either one of us. We also began frequenting
“bondage nights” at various clubs far from the house. We were always dressed
to the hilt so we never feared getting recognized. These were the only
places that she felt comfortable going, even then she often became upset
knowing that everyone could be freed whenever they wanted and were in no way
as severely punished as she.

Within a month the next gift arrived and Wendy was carried up to the garage
for installation. I had contacted Pennsylvania shortly after the rubber
nylons had arrived and ordered a pair of shoes, but not just any shoes. The
long weeks with her legs held solid left her unable to flex her feet flat.
The only shoes she could wear were the 5-inch heeled shoes that she had
bought prior to the kidnapping incident. The shoes that I had ordered were
of the 6-inch variety and were made from solid steel. They could only be
welded shut and did not have any buckles or anything. Four steel dividers
fit between her toes to keep them pointed straight and to prevent them from
rubbing against each other. At first she did not want anything to do with
them, but after she tried them on she practically screamed “Weld them on!”
The steel covered her toes but would allow her toenails to grow one inch
before showing through the ends. The shoes also covered her entire foot. Her
toes, ankles, arch, everything was completely incased in a steel boot
extending just above her ankle. She was so happy to see her human toes
disappear beneath the steel covers that she could not wait to have them in

A year has passed since that fateful night and things have changed very
little. Surprisingly Wendy is leading an average life all things considered.
The hygiene problems I thought we would never overcome have not been an
issue. The glue beneath the metal must have soaked into the pores and
prevented her from sweating. She still showers daily but has had no
drawbacks from the inability to towel herself off in those areas. The same
has occurred with the foam that incased her legs for so long. Any moisture
from showering or sweating has no negative effects on her legs. Every other
month we unlock and roll down her stockings and find the same things. Her
legs are still covered in foam but are in healthy condition. Each month she
looks at her legs, a shadow of their former glory, and immediately begs for
them to be recovered. Her hair is still growing at the normal rate through
the steel inlet at the top of her head. We have debated trying to cut the
back of her helmet off but she has become so accustomed to the look that it
does not bother her nearly as much as it originally did. Her breasts still
throb to this day and are a constant source of pain. Although we have no way
to tell for sure, we hope that there was no infection from the piercing. We
are both operating under the assumption that if it hasn’t affected her yet,
it must be okay. Her body is almost completely covered now. About 3 months
after the shoes were installed we had went to another bondage show. While we
were there she fell in love with a woven steel top and spent a great deal of
time talking with the owner. She is now the proud owner of two chaine-maile
sleeves which have been weld together in the back and then welded onto the
breast harness along the back strap, collar and cup straps. The outfit was
custom made by appointment and is very heavy due to the tightly interlocked
links. It is also very secure due to the hundreds of rings pierced through
her skin to hold it in place. She is very happy with the results and is
still seeking ways of covering what remains of her body. After the addition
of the metal sleeves there is a small triangular patch of flesh above her
breast beneath her collar and her midsection under the breast harness and
above the belt. Every month she bends forward and sees those unsightly fuzzy
legs with the chunks of foam and metal thigh bands clinging to her legs. She
begs me to have a steel band welded around her midsection to secure the
breast harness and belt as one unit. She nearly convinced me to buy a corset
to cover and compress her midsection beyond all comprehension. But every
month I tell her no, insert an inflatable gag in her mouth and suspend her
by her hair until she drops the subject.