Message-ID: <12024eli$9806091114@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/12024.txt>
From: "Seurat" <seurat7@enter.net>
Subject: {ASSM} RP Seurat's Twighlight Zone, chapter 4 (c): Art Critic (Femdom, bondage)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d
Path: qz!not-for-mail
Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam
Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-ID: <01bd9314$49800e80$7910aacc@default>
See the other two previous chapter 4 posts if you want to know what's going
on and for warnings.
<initiate password bypass function>*************************************
+++++Passcode accepted+++++
+++++Department?+++++
research
+++++Baum-Dietrich Technologies Research
and Developement Project Database+++++
+++++Press Release Information+++++
search keywords neurotransmitter/neuro/Worthington
+++++Information to follow+++++
+++++Silkskin - a crystal based neuro-enhancing cloth, akin to the
popular 'cire'' fabric only having a great deal of flexibility.
Developed by Baum-Dietrich Technologies by and for the virtual
reality department, silkskin magnifies the effect of any outside
physical stimulation directly to the skin below. Experiments have
shown that those wearing silkskin are easily distracted, as the
material keeps their entire body extremely sensitive.
+++++VRcloth - a version of silkskin connected directly to a persons
neuro-pathways
+++++VRprosthetics - nerve connected prosthetics, consisting of an
outer layer which is nearly identical to skin in texture and color;
a liquid core which, under proper frequencies, could: harden, enlarge,
shrink, soften, move in a particular direction or set of directions,
and transmit sensations from the outer layer to the inner layer; and
an inner layer, which transmits sensations to nuero-receptors implanted
in the skin and connected to the hosts own nerves.
+++++Personell data: Worthington, Tara J: President and CEO
Baum-Dietrich Technologies.
<<set Worthington.gif>> Education : BS in chemistry, W3oq4it7p
q38ohf48o....
**********Security Program detected. File transfer interupted.
Abort initiated**********
+++++End file transfer+++++
+++++Connection closed+++++
The small amount of information that I was able to gleam from
the company's public relations department re-stated what I had already
been told. It didn't mention, however, that the president was
claiming to be a researcher that was subjecting unwilling persons
to her own personal experiments.
I sat in front of my computer, staring at the screen. I
switched it off got out of the chair, running over the events of
the last week in my head. For the past week I had tried to live
my life normally, but I was far from being in a normal situation.
Last Wednesday, when I had gotten home from my evening of
"raquetball", I had a difficult time concealing what had happened
to me. I don't know if my wife suspected something or not, but the
paranoia running rampant in my head made it seem that she was
constantly touching, stroking, prodding, tickling, or just being
all too affectionate for my current situation. She soon realized
that I wasn't in the mood, and, after telling me about her day at
work, what happened at church, that we didn't win the lottery (again),
before I knew it we were shutting off the alarm and getting up to the
morning sun.
My week went quickly, and before I knew it, it was Wednesday
again. I had almost forgotten the whole thing, dismissing it as a
dream induced by reading too many fantasies, except for the fact
that I found my self keeping my body shaved. It was Wednesday
morning that I found the shoebox-sized package on the front porch,
next to the paper. I quickly picked it up, and once back inside
the house, stuffed it under the family room couch. I thought it
wasn't supposed to arrive until the afternoon.
As I walked back to the kitchen, I was filled with a sense of
apprehension as to what I was going to do. Well, almost all of me.
My cock was rock solid in erotic anticipation at what could
be in the box. I did my best to conceal the confusion in brain and
the erection in my pants while I ate my breakfast and kissed my wife
goodbye.
Once I was sure that her car had left the driveway, I fished out
the box and ran upstairs. I shut the bedroom door like a teenager with
his first porn magazine and ripped open the package. Inside was a remote
control about the size of my CD player's with a tag attached, an
unmarked toothpaste tube, and a black outfit. I pulled the outfit
completely out of the box and laid it out on the bed.
It was, in fact, a jumpsuit, and while it looked a little small
for me, I knew it would fit the way Tara wanted it to. It was made
of an almost black translucent material, a cross between latex and
spandex in texture and strechability, and was designed to cover me
from my ankles to an open faced hood. Examining it a bit more closely,
I discovered it was not uniform in thickness, being heavier in the
chest, ass, and hood. There where half-inch holes where my ears would
be and a small glove-pouch in the crotch area, in addition to a large
slit up the back. It also had no way of fastening it; I assumed that
I would climb in through the opening in the back, and that once it was
over my head and arms it would keep itself in place. I carefully
rolled it up and put it and it's companions back in the box. At the
foot of our bed was a heavy locking cedar chest; a friend of
mine had made it for us and had put in a hidden drawer with it's own
lock. I put the box in the drawer and locked it. The small key went
on my keychain, and off to work I went. I could hardly
supress my excitement.
When I got home that afternoon, my wife was already there,
cooking dinner. The meal went quickly, as it often does on Wednesdays,
and we chatted about the day's events. She could tell my mind wasn't
on the conversation though, and got ready to leave. I kissed her
good-bye, and again watched as her car pulled out of the driveway.
Kinky fantasies began to flit through my head, and I was hard by the
time I got upstairs. I stripped quickly, and unlocked the drawer to
remove my costume. It seemed cooler; almost oily to the touch. I got
out the controller and the tube. The tag on the controller read:
"Head to ankles in the jelly,
put on the suit, enter 1637794 <enter>
Be at 730 Sycamore at 7:15, lower door.
Don't be late."
I opened up the tube and punctured the sterile seal, and squeezed
a generous portion of the pinkish jelly into my hands, and proceeded
to smooth it over my body. It was cool but warmed up quickly, and had
no smell. Wiping my hands on my discarded jeans, I started to put on
the jumpsuit. Left leg, straighten, right leg, straighten, then
manuever the arms and head into position. The material was flexible
enough that squeezing in wasn't too difficult, but my hard-on was
definitely a hindrance. I grabbed the glove-pouch and pulled it out
so that I could manuever my cock in, and it fit snug, exposing only
the glans. It was definitely more comfortable that way. I slid my
hands down the arms into the gloves, making sure the fingers weren't
twisted, then pulled the hood up and over my head. It was a little
tight, but finally made it. Next came the bathroom.
I wiped off the extra jelly with a towel, and stood in front of
the mirror, admiring the skin tight costume. The face cutout exposed
me from lips to eyebrows, my hard-on stood out proud before me, and my
feet were bare. Nearly my entire body was covered in black. Even the
hole that I had gotten in through wasn't noticeable; the slit closing
over itself once the hood was on. I got the controller and returned
to the bathroom, wanting to see what happened when I entered the code.
After pressing the buttons as instructed, I heard the controller hum
for about thirty seconds, and then let out a beep.
If I thought the suit was skintight before I was wrong. Almost
the entire thing shrank, except for additions to my pectoral and anal
area. My somewhat athletic body was even more male; it looked like I
spent hours lifting weights every day. The biggest change, though, was
in my pubic area. My suit covered shaft and balls were held in what was
now a stiff and hardened case, holding my prick straight out from my
body like a dildo on a latex suit, except the now purpling head was
real. It felt like somebody's hand had a firm grip on my cock and
balls. Firm, but not uncomfortable.
My fantasies vanished and reality hit me in the face like a brick.
I was trapped in some nuts experiment, and couldn't get out.
Frantically I tapped the code into the controller, hoping to be
released. I heard the hum and beep, but instead of the relief I
wanted, a sharp searing pain around the base of my cock doubled me
over. When I recovered, I looked up and saw the bedroom clock
reflected in the mirror. Evidently, Tara's original instruction
of 'start by six thirty' and her new one of 'be there by seven
fifteen' had a third one attached. Fool with the controller and pay
for it.
I grabbed a pair of sweats and pulled them on and over my erection,
which stood out like a tentpole, fished my car keys out my jeans, and
headed out. I had a very difficult time not stopping to masturbate.
The erection was going to make driving very difficult.
My car screached to a stop outside the house on Sycamore St.
It was close to where Tara lived, maybe a block or two over, and I
assumed that it must belong to one of her friends. The house was a
large brownstone, one of a string of seven on the street. It was a
nice neighboohood, probaly inhabited by yuppie wannabes, but I don't
think they would have liked what they saw getting out of my car. My
black clad body, with erect prick tenting my sweat pants, moved quickly
from the car to the ornate oak and glass street level door. I knocked
and the door swung open, and as I stepped in I noticed three Greek
letters imbedded in the leaded glass window.
My bare feet stepped onto a thick, plush carpet, a dark blue in
color. I stood in a foyer, about ten foot square, with dark paneling
on the walls and three other doors, one to either side and one in front.
A yellow light filtered through the leaded glass window in that far
door; it too had the three greek letters on it, only in gold leaf. A
beta, an alpha, and a delta, if I remembered my college days right.
BAD? A sick joke; expensive, but sick. Baum And Dietrich? I couldn't
be sure. I closed the street door and advanced to the one with the
light behind it and knocked.
"Come in, Alan. You're early." The door swung open, revealing
a large room that must have taken up the entire basement of the house,
Dark panelled walls supported a ten foot high ceiling. My feet padded
quietly into the room, which was also carpeted, and I found myself in
what looked to be a weight room, only I didn't recognize any of the
equipment. Tara stood on the other side, disassembling on a device
made of pipes and straps.
She was dressed in white head to toe; a snug leather dress with
a high collar and a hem down at the knees, white stockings, and white
wrist length gloves. Even though the dress was not very revealing, it
was snug enough to accentuate all her curves, and would have made me go
hard if I had had the problem of being limp. She wore no shoes,
probably so she wouldn't have to worry about the carpet. As I
approached, she stopped what she was working on and looked up.
"You can take off the sweats. I'll be with you in a moment."
She went back to work on the construction while I shucked the pants.
After a minute, she spoke again. "Come here. I need you to move this
box into the lift." I walked over, my dick bobbing up and down
obscenely in front of me, and picked up the box. It was full of
bent rods about a foot long, and a number of nylon straps.
"You're awfully quiet today. Given up hope of getting out of
your situation, or have you resigned yourself to enjoy what you have
only read and fantasized about? Either way, tonight should be
exciting. Come along." She walked to a section of the wall and
pressed on a section of the paneling. A five foot section of the
wall recessed and slid to the side, revealing an old style gated
elevator. Her English term of 'lift' came back into my mind, and
I wondered if she was American for no real reason.
"You look very nice tonight." I said, trying to ease my
situation. "I don't suppose you'd like to tell me what's going
to happen to me tonight, would you?" We got on the elevator, and
she locked the gate in place. It started to rise.
"Thank you. If I told you what was going to happen, then it
wouldn't be a suprise, would it?" She laughed a little. "Don't
worry. Nothing bad will happen to you tonight. Just a little art
show I want my favorite critic to attend."
My mind started to read things into her words. Bad. BAD?
Art show? The elevator stopped, and she opened the gate and the
outer door. The room it opened onto was at least twice the size of
the basement; it must have cut across two of the houses, and reached
across two floors. The whole room was painted white, with a marble
floor. A weak light shone from a few track lights in the ceiling,
faintly illuminating sculptures and paintings around the room. We
walked halfway around the room to a bent frame sculpture made from
black tubing.
The main supports were two pyramids, which supported a crossbeam
which ran through a circle at least nine feet in diameter. In side
the circle was another circle, and within that one, another, the
smallest being at least eight feet across. She motioned for me to
put down the box, and when I did she started to fish though the rods.
"You know, you've got a really strange place here. A private art
gallery, elevators in a house, all the fun stuff." She fitted two of
the rods together, and snapped two straps at either end. "And what
about those Greek letters? What do they mean? Did all of this come
from your father?" She took out another rod and connected it to a
star shaped device, and began strapping it to my left leg. I felt
like like was getting fitted for a suit.
"My father left it to me, but it was my great-grandmother that
designed and built it. She had plenty of money, and did what she
wanted. Other leg please. Thank you. Anyway, she belonged to an
organization with a very strict charter and good benefits, and this
was her way of returning the favors they showed her and her husband.
It's been in the family ever since. Come over here please."
She pulled me, stiff- legged, over to the circles, and swiveled
them so I could climb inside. Once inside, she slid in the two piece
rod, and attached it to my shoulders and wrists, turning my upper body
into a big 'T'. "Must have been pretty good benefits, to have built a
place like this. Is that what the BAD stood for?" She lifted my feet
onto the frame and snapped the bars in place, then hooked the star
device to the other leg bar, then to a third bar and my shoulder rod,
making an effective rack to which I was already attached.
"Stands for, Alan, stands for." She took another rod, this one
having a small, finger sized dildo attached to the end. She covered
it liberally in lubricant, and pressed it to my anus. "Open up." It
slid in easily through a hole in the rear of my suit that I hadn't
noticed before and pressed into my anus about half an inch before my
muscles stopped it, and she ajusted it it and attached it to the rest
of the rack, leaving it about a half inch in my ass. Try as I might,
I couldn't unimpale my self.
"You see, Beta Alpha Delta still exists. It is a Femina Sorority,
and I'm putting on a little show for the local chapter. It's pledge
time, and we have some fine candidates. You won't be working with them
much, though." She pulled a set of earphones out of the box, and wedged
them in the little earslots in my hood. They plugged into a little jack
on the frame, and suddenly her voice was amplified. "I'm going to give
you the controls now, Alan. Try not to make a mess. See you in a
little while." She pressed a little device into each of my hands, then
stood back and smiled. "Almost forgot." She reached into the box again
and pulled out something which she kept hidden at her side.
"A little kiss before I go?" She leaned in, and gave me a rather
tonguey kiss, and at the same time reached down and grabbed my aching
dick. Suddenly, she pinched the glans between two fingernails, and when
I yelped, she stuffed the ball of the gag into my mouth and locked it
place. It must have been coated with something; it tasted sour and I
noticed that my nervous stomach was calming almost immediately. Again
she stepped back, and grabbed the side of the inner sphere and pulled.
It began to spin slowly around, giving me a view of the room, the Tara,
then the room. On one of the passes, I saw her grab the next sphere and
shove it in a different direction. The dildo at my ass began to hum,
and I started to get dizzy. She spun the third one and my view began
to shift all over the room. I rotated in three hundred sixty degrees
on three different planes.
"The controls will let you start or stop rotation. I would let
it spin, if I were you, unless you want that vibrator up your ass.
It's a gravity fed device. If it stays in any one orientation for
more than twenty seconds, it will start to rise against the frame
and into your rear end. It won't go far, but if you're not used to
it I guess it could be a little uncomfortable. I don't know; maybe
your into that kind of thing. Talk to you later." The noise of the
room clicked off, and was replaced with music by Nine Inch Nails.
Whatever was on the ball gag was keeping me from throwing up. I felt
the spheres slow down, and decided not to risk it. I closed my eyes
and clicked on the buttons, sending the device back into rotations.
Disorientation or butt fuck by a piece of art. I'll take the
disorientation.
--
+----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+
| <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> | <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> |
| Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ |
<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/>----<http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/faq.html>