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Subject: The Erotica Vault Story Post: Binding Agreement, The adventures of Bonda Otytely. (F f, ltx/rub, encase, bd, cst) Post 3 of 4
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*	Posted from the Erotica Vault 		*
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*	Binding Agreement Part  		*
*	The Adventures Of Bonda Otytely	*
*	Posting 3 of 4				*
*	The Best FREE Erotic Story Archive	*
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BINDING AGREEMENT, PART VI

Yes, Bonda did sleep.

The bubbles of air became an underwater lullaby to her, and she couldn't
tell exactly when she dozed off. And she wasn't sure how long she'd been
asleep when
she awoke.

But even though her sweat soaked her body and she itched like crazy, in
the end the need to recharge her body had become the most overwhelming
urge. So she
had slept.

And she had dreamed.

It was a bizarre dream, really. All she could remember was being
fettered and being shown her new slave boots -- rubber-and-leather boots
with 8'' heels.
Boots that ran from her toes all the way up to her crotch. Boots with the
longest laces
she'd ever seen, which fit her legs so snugly that her knees couldn't bend.

These boots weren't made for walkin'.

These boots were made for bondage.

And in her dream, there were the Mistress and Tyrenna, fitting her into
the boots, forcing her to learn to walk on them, telling her how the tiny
little
padlocks on the back would make sure that even if she were otherwise
unfettered and naked,
she couldn't get those boots off. And Bonda remembered that she was left
alone to learn
to walk in those boots. She teetered. She stumbled. She could hardly stand
still, let
alone walk forward.

Even left unfettered, it took her hours upon hours of practice to learn
how to mince forward. Even bound into a walking harness, replete with a
upside-down
U-shaped bar and rollers, she could only mince forward. And then there was
tre scene
that shockled her awake: Tyrenna walking into the room with a metal and
leather body
harness and brank, telling her that it was time for Bonda to re-bound as a
pony girl, still
in her boots.

"The Mistress wants to race you," Tyrenna said.

Run? In those boots?

The fear shook Bonda awake.

Maybe it had been the dream that had made her so sweaty. Maybe it was
the time she'd spent in the tube. But whatever it was, she was very, very
happy when
she felt herself lifted out of the pit by Tyrenna and her helpers.

When she was finally deflated, the tube unlocked, and the rubber bag
pulled from her body,  Bonda's body was a wrinkled as a Sharpei. The smell
of sweat and
rubber was overwhelming.

Bonda was ushered into a small, white room with a regular tub and a
small table, which contained food.

"You know the drill," Tyrenna said.  "Bathe and dry yourself. Then eat.
Later, Mistress has some interesting new boots to fit on you. I don't think
you could
conjur up these boots in your wildest dreams!'

"Bet me," Bonda thought to herself.

"These boots are rubber and leather and go all the way up to your puss,"
Tyrenna said.

"They lace and lock. And, oh yes, they have 8'' heels."

"No!" Bonda thought to herself as she slipped into the tub. "Am I still
dreaming?"

She wasn't.

Tyrenna left the room and closed the door.

Bonda quickly washed the sweat off her and dried herself off. She wolfed
down her food, all the time thinking of the boots.

"I've got the get out of here," she thought. "I've got to escape!"

She jumped to her feet and approached the door. She didn't care that she
was naked or who might be on the other side of the door.

She wanted her freedom.

So she twisted the door knob, and it opened. She peeked out the door. No
one was in the hallway. She slinked down the hallway to a coat rack, where
she
found a long, black, rubber trenchcoat. She put it on.

She came to the end of the hallway and it split like a T. Should she got
left or right? She chose the right.

At the end of that hallway was another T. She went left.

At the end of the hallway was a door. She opened it. It was the foyer.
And, other than another slave dangling high above in the cage where she had
been, it was
empty. She fixed her eyes on the front door and scurried over, the sound of
her
bare feet slapping against the tile as she ran.

She was at the door now, a little out of breath. But she had to go, so
she opened the door and prepared to run for her life.

But what she ran into was a trap.

This wasn't the exit out after all. It was the entrance to another
dungeon, where her Mistress awaited with a man. Tyrenna was at the door,
and pulled her
inside.

"Bonda, this is Master Nick," said the Mistress. "He's here to monitor
your training.

He's brought some special goodies for us to play with, including a new
pair of boots.

Tyrenna, show Bonda her boots.

Yes, they were rubber-and-leather boots with 8'' heels. Boots that ran
from Bonda's toes all the way up to her crotch. Boots with the longest
laces she'd
ever seen, fitting her legs so snugly that her knees couldn't bend.

There were  tiny little padlocks on the back to make sure that even if
she were otherwise unfettered and naked, she couldn't get those boots off.
Bonda  teetered. She stumbled. She could hardly stand still, let alone walk
forward. Bonda
wept.

"Why are you crying, my dear?" the mistress asked.

"Are you going to race me?" Bonda stammered.

"Why no, dear," the mistress said. " I hadn't thought of it. But now
that you mention it....maybe....someday....someday soon. We are going to
bind you. Master
Nick has has brought you a hooded, armless rubber sheath dress to match
your boots."

BINDING AGREEMENT, PART VII



Actually, the rubber sheath dress was merely the dressing for Bonda's
first level of servitude with Master Nick.  Master Nick and Tyrenna began
Bonda's preparation. Bonda's hands
were fitted in heavy black rubber mittens, over which were fitted plyable,
shoulder-length black rubber
gloves with O-rings at the end of each glove. Next, a metal, adjustable
head harness and posture collar was
fitted and locked around Bonda's neck. Then Bonda's gloved arms were
crisscrossed behind her,  the O-rings
snapped onto clips that dangled from the harness. Over Bonda's head was
fitted a taut rubber shirt that fit
snugly around Bonda's neck and then was rolled down her body to her navel.
The rubber clung to Bonda's body like a
heavy-duty rubber band, pushing Bonda's breasts inward and pinioning
Bonda's elbows against the small of Bonda's
back. Master Nick stood up and came over to move each breast so that the
pressure of the rubber pancaked
each against Bonda's body. He nodded and Tyrenna continued. Over the
rubber, she laced Bonda into a leather
all-around tube that tied in the front and had what appeared to be breast
holes in the back. Tyrenna fitted Bonda's
slightly bulging elbows into the holes, and then came up to her and laced
her tightly, putting her foot against
between Bonda's Bonda's flattened breasts as she did the final cinching.

Frankly, Bonda had no idea what Master Nick had in mind.

Next came a half-leather, half-rubber, long-line girdle that the three
of them had to help her step into. The leather half wrapped itself around
each cheek of Bonda's buttock, and
the rubber half snapped against Bonda's puss after Tyrenna pulled it up as
far as she could.

Oh, and there was also that monster invader. It probed Bonda's sex, and
although hollow inside, it was attached to a long, thin pole with the
appropriately fitting device
pushed into Bonda's puss. The invader went into Bonda tightly, snugly,
filling her up. A study metal U-shaped extension
ran up the middle of Bonda's front and between the crack in Bonda's butt.
It was locked together by a four-inch
wide leather belt around Bonda's waist. The pole was strapped between
Bonda's booted  legs above the knees,
below the knees, and at Bonda's ankles. A sturdy, hollow metal tube was
afixed to its the bottom.

For now, Bonda's focus was on the girdle itself. There was little give
to the whole garment, although the rubber half had two inflate bladders.
Tyrenna pumped them up and as she
did, Bonda felt the leather pull her ample buttocks into her body. When she
looked down, she could see that
the rubber bladders were now fully inflated, and were shaped like her
cheeks.

"Posture, dear," Master Nick said, catching Bonda being way too casual
and curious for a slave. He got up and adjusted the two-way threads around
Bonda's posture collar. Bonda's
neck was pushed upward, slightly higher in back than in the front.

"And complete silence," he continued, pulling a penis gag with a flat
leather, five-inch-wide outer fitting around Bonda's head, locking it at
the back of  her head. Thankfully,
the gag had a breathing tube. Bonda's eyes were now afixed about five feet
ahead of her.

"Now, let's start the transformation," Master Nick said, reaching for a
flesh-colored rubber hood over Bonda'shead. The breathing tube extended
one-quarter inch outside the hood.

The hood was thin enough in its texture that Bonda could still see
shapes and shadows before her. But thencame the ankles-to-head sheath
outfit, which was fitted around Bonda's
back and laced in front. The three of them put her flat on the floor to
complete Bonda's lacing. Mistress Sally
laced the top, Master Nick the middle, and Tyrenna the bottom. They all put
their knees where need be to lace her
as tight as possible. After they were through, Mistress Sally brought her
head close enough to Bonda's face
that even through Bonda's rubber hood, she could smell her perfume.
Suddenly, hair fell over Bonda's hood,
darkening everything in front of her. Bondafelt Mistress Sally's lips kiss
her gagged, hooded lips.

She was hoisted back on her feet and the three of them fondled her here
and there, checking her outfit and bondage.

"She's too snug to be too smug," Master Nick snickered. "Now, I can
explain what we're doing to you, Bonda.

In essence, we've tried to reshape your body. We are going to fit you
with a rubber Barbie-doll face, but it will be fitted to the back of your
head. We will put a long wig red over your
face. We will fit one last heavy heavy white rubber sheath dress from your
neck to your ankles.  When people look at
you, they will see how you are faced, mistake your elbows for tiny little
breasts, mistake your bladders for
your ass, and think you are headed one way.

Then they will see your boots and see you walk and wonder how we
contorted your body 180 degrees, because it will look as if your headed
away from where you are looking. We'll fit
your mask with glass lenses to make it appear as if you are
posture-collared with your head up, looking up, and
able to see. People will see no nose or mouth opening and will wonder how
you are breathing.  In actualitly, you
will be blindfolded by a red rubber skull cap, facing down, and breathing
through you tiny little breathing tube,
hidden by all the hair in the wig."

As Master Nick described the scenario, Tyrenna was fitting her with a
Barbie mask. Then she pulled the skull cap over Bonda's face, and
everything went dark. Bonda felt her once
again pull the tiny breathing tube through the cap, and felt the weight of
the wig attached to the cap.

Once everything was fitted in place, Bonda heard a series of clicking
noises.

"We're taking pictures," said Master Nick. "We've all seen bi-sexual
slaves before, but never bi-directional."

"It's the worlds first Barbie Bonda in Bondage," giggled Tyrenna.

After the picture taking, Master Nick came up to Bonda's left side, and
Mistress Sally to the right.

""We need to take you to your post for the evening," said Mistress
Sally, "which unfortunately is at the other end of our little abode. We'll
help you walk there."

They each grabbed a side and Master Nick pushed on Bonda's back, or was
it Bonda's front. Bonda minced forward (or backward, considering your
perspective). The pole between
Bonda's legs ground slightly from side to side with every little movement,
and since I shuffled like a baby girl
with her diaper down to her angles, it was a series of short, short,
shufflle-twists. After about 15 minutes, Bonda's
handlers let her stop.

"Good," said Master Nick. ""You're now about three feet closer to the
door. By the time we get to your post,

you'll have been inching along for about 10 to 12 hours. You'll be ready
to get off your feet."

Bonda's toes and arches ached. And Bonda's puss felt fiery red.

"Well," said Master Nick, "I think we've found your post. It's in our
reading room, which is in use around the clock. Of course, we'll have to
give you a lift."

They did. They lifted her right onto a post protuding about 6'' from the
floor. When they let her down, Bonda's weight rest on the invader and the
U-shaped support. Bonda's
feet didn't touch the floor, even though she flailed with her toes as
possible for any support.

She got none.

She felt a series of leather straps being wrapped around  her bound form
and secured to ring bolts anchored all about her. A head harness was
fitted, and Bonda's head was pulled
slightly upward by a pulley.

"We're having a group of mistresses meet in here in a couple of hours
for a lecture on Effective SlaveBondage," Mistress Sally said. "You will be
a featured part of the
program. Until then, my only advice to you is to hang in there."

Yes," added Master Nick. "You've already got the pole position. I call
this "Slave on a Stick.""

"Of course, when the mistresses gather, you might be tied up with other
things," Tyrenna said, "such as how long this pole will vibrate the next
time is switches on. It's all
random, except for your first little ride. It will be a half hour."

Bonda moaned.

Suddenly, her whole body shook as the pole vibrated herky-jerk, shaking
her fettered form all over. Her bound up breasts ached in their rubber and
leather prison, but mostly, her
puss was getting a workout. Bonda wiggled her toes furiously, trying to get
some footing, trying to brace herself
for the unavoidable rush that filled her whole form. It was easy to tell
when that moment came. The boots stop
wiggling. The toes pointed straight downward.

Bonda stretched and strained.  Her whole body became one enormous
shudder. She puckered her lips and kissed her leather muzzle. She sucked on
her penis gag as if trying to return
some pleasure to her mechanical mistress.

The humm of the vibrating pole was the only sound Bonda heard. It was
far from finished.



  BINDING AGREEMENT, PART VIII

 Bonda's puss was on throb overdrive by the time the last of Mistress
Sally's disciples of discipline arrived.

"This is Bonda," the mistress said as she escorted her tribe before the
tied little tart. "She is in training to become Mr. Ensign's greatest work:
'Bonda, the Princess of
Self-Discipline.'"

The woman laughed and sneered. Bonda gurgled behind her penis gag.

"Master Nick and Tyrenna will release Bonda from her present posture,"
the mistress said, "and bring her back out bathed and naked so you ladies
may watch her undergo
her transformation from the buff to total bondage."

Bonda was carried off, unshackled, stripped, showered, and fitted with a
clear plastic, adjustable mouthpiece. The two-piece appliance, hinged on
either side with at the
rear and equipped with small but sturdy gears, fit perfectly against
Bonda's upper and lower teeth.
Tyrenna had applied a clear gel, much like a denture creme, to the upper
and lower portions, and Bonda
felt the cold gel flow between her teeth and up into her gums. Tyrenna
reached deep into Bonda's mouth
and forced her jaws wide apart by separating the plastic pieces. Bonda's
jaw stayed agape after
Tyrenna stood back. The gears had locked. Bonda took a deep breath and feel
the cold air race through
her mouth, down her windpipe and into her chest. She could breathe just
fine. Then Bonda tried to
shut her mouth by trying to shake the release point of the gears free.
There was no chance. All she
succeeded in doing was opening her mouth wider. She blinked.

"Great!" she tried to say out loud.

But it came out "g-g-g-a-a-a-a-t-t-t-t-e-e-e." Bonda wiggled her tongue.
She was agog over her gag.

To anyone standing back more than inches from her, it looked like Bonda
was voluntarily holding her mouth open,  shaping her lips in a perfectly
round "O".  She tried
to stick her hands in her mouth, but Tyrenna grabbed her hands and locked
them behind her with thumbcuffs.

Master Nick and Tyrenna each grabbed an arm and escorted Bonda back to
the waiting assembly of dominants. There on the floor was a pile of bondage
appartus, all of
clear plastic.  Bonda's thumbcuffs were unlocked.

"Ladies," Mistress Sally said, "have at her."

The women picked up the goodies -- two clear hard-plastic dildos, clear
ruffled panties, a clear, molded plastic corset with nipple openings and
clear arm and wrist staps
on either side, a heavy plastic hood, a molded plastic posture collar,
plastic stockings, 7'' molded
plastic knee boots,  a clear plastic neck-to-ankle hobble dress
(sleeveless, of course, since Bonda's arms
would be fettered) -- and within two minutes Bonda was standing before the
group, all dressed up and
bound up, but still exposed everywhere because of the see-through nature of
her garments.

Then came the real torture.

Four of the women grabbed huge, high-powered hot-air blowers, and began
to work their way up and down Bonda's body. The plastic dress melted like
shrink wrap against
her body. She literally was wrapped up like a piece of meat. Then Tyrenna
stepped forward, pushed a
short breathing tube through an opening in the plastic hood and half way
into Bonda's mouth,
and then stood back and the four women worked on Bonda's head. The plastic
shrank around her nose,
her eyes, her cheeks, and her mouth. Her hair bunched up.

When they were through, Bonda looked like a bound blow-up doll, with the
inflation tube poking out of her mouth. She could still breathe, but only
through her mouth.
Her vision was distorted by the crinckled contours of the plastic the held
her captive.

"Okay, ladies, it's time to apply your specialties," Mistress Sally told
her girlfriends. One woman grabbed a quirt, and behind finding spots on
Bonda's buttock
to leave her marks.

Bonda found herself trying to shuffle forward to avoid the sting. She
minced. An inch at a time.  And that wasn't fast enough to stop another
woman from coming in front of
her and quickly applying weighted clamps to each of her well-packed
nipples.

The Quirt Lady stopped long enough to allow another mistress to attach a
two-pronged leash to the nipple clamps.

"We're going to walk a mile in those shoes, Bonda," the mistress said as
she cranked down a motorized overhead pulley and attached it to the other
end of the leash.
"This device will help pace you while Mistress Florine flogs you're little
behind."

Bonda didn't know if she was really forced to walk a mile. But she did
know she was forced to walk for hours in a circle, harnessed to a machine,
beaten on the butt by a
bitch.  Her feet ached. Her butt was bright red. Her sweat poured down her
body. Her panties were soaked.

Finally, it stopped and a figure walked in front of her.

"We're having a ball, Bonda," said Mistress Sally. "How about you?"

Bonda moaned.

"Not yet," Mistress Sally scoffed. "You will."

Bonda stood still as she felt herself lifted into a long plastic bag. It
was pulled up and over her body and over her head. Her breathing tube was
pulled through this layer
of plastic and a four-foot extension was attached. A clear plastic wedge
made sure the tube did not
slip out of her mouth. Her nipple leash was detached, but not the clamps or
the weights. The bag
was tied over Bonda's head and a clear hard-plastic ring was attached. Once
again, the hot-air blowers
went to work. Bonda soon had no movement left. She could barely make out
the clear 8-foot high ball
that was rolled toward her. But she clearly felt the senstation of the ring
above her head being  pulled
by clear plastic braiding to a ring atop the plastic ball, which had been
popped open wide enough to allow
the group to manuever Bonda's bagged form inside. She was lifted up until
she dangled a foot
or so off the floor.  And then she felt the sensation of another layer of
plastic being wrapped her,
from the shoulders to the tip of her boots, where another hard plastic ring
was attached and tied to the
bottom of the ball. Her nipple clamps remained on, and the weights were
pulled through openings in the
wrap.

Bonda dangled there, her weights swaying slightly, as the clear plastic
air tube was fitted to an air hole on the side of the ball. Finally, she
felt the ring binds pulled as
taut as possible, so that she hung midway between top and bottom, midway
between the two sides.

Then the group snapped the ball shut, with Bonda inside.

For an hour, she just hung there in her sweat, breathing in, breathing
out, her butt on fire, her puss awash in sweat and, perhaps, her own erotic
wetness.  She thought
her nipples had become numb to the pain.

She was wrong.

She felt the ball begin to tilt. Her body weight shifted to one side.
The ball rolled back to other way and her body weight shifted again. Soon,
her body hung horizontally
inside the ball, the weights dangling down from her stretched form.

As the ball was rock slightly, her weights rocked.

The sensation of pain returned to her nipples.

But with it came the rush of  being bound and toyed with by so many
others.

Bonda learned to roll with the pain and came.

But the rocking didn't stop.

Neither did her urges.

She rocked left.

She rocked right.

Left.

Right.

She squirmed in her coccoon for any sense of freedom. There was none.

M-m-m-m, she hummed.

And she came.

Then it all stopped again. Bonda hung in there. Face down. Weights
dangling. Puss throbbing.

"Be thankful they didn't decide to roll you down the hall sideways," she
thought to herself.

"Those weights would fly all over the place and then thump against my
breasts."

What could be worse?

Water.

That's right.

Water.

Bonda had been bound up now for several hours -- longer than any other
punishment -- and she thought the women were through.

They weren't.

Her ball-prison was filling with water. She could hear it rush in from
the side. It steadied the ball as it filled. Bonda figured that the ball
must have become air tight when
it snapped shut, and marvelled at the genius behind the technology that
left her suspended in this
predicament.

She guessed the ball would eventually fill to the top and she would be
left inside for at least a few more hours. She was resigned to that. She
sighed.

But then she felt a new senation. The water had reached the tips of her
bound form and it brought her out of her sweaty comfort. This water was
cold. No, it was icy.
Br-r-r-r, it was icy. Her sweating form got goose bumps. She started to
shiver and shake.

She could shiver and shake all she wanted. The weight of the water kept
the ball still in its spot.

The water continued to rush in and soon her whole body was submerged.
The red in her butt was gone now. Her whole body was icy blue. Even her
clamped nipples. Even her
O-shaped lips.

Bonda didn't feel like a randy little bondage maiden anymore.

She felt like a tightly wrapped fish being frozen for market.

*********************************************************
*	Posted from the Erotica Vault 		*
*	New PERMANENT Web Address	*
*	http://www.eccentrica.org/evault		*
*	Email evault@mailcity.com		*
*	Binding Agreement Part  		*
*	The Adventures Of Bonda Otytely	*
*	Posting 3 of 4				*
*	The Best FREE Erotic Story Archive	*
*	on the net :)				*
*						*
**********************************************************


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