Author Topic: Travel Arrangements  (Read 358 times)

Offline Phileas

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Travel Arrangements
« on: December 30, 2021, 10:17:43 PM »
“Tara, when are you coming home?”
I was facetiming with Jeff on my way back to the hotel.
"Shush, you know I have the rest of the week full of meetings. I miss you so much, I have to restrain myself every night. You know what I mean."
As a matter of fact, I really have to restrain myself when I am alone in my room at night. And what I chose for this trip is a pair of handcuffs that Jeff gave me for Christmas, last year.
I lock them on my wrists, behind my back, and sleep soundly until morning, unable to use the key that I place in an ice tray that I had kept all day in the courtesy fridge. I just hope that no fire alarm is going to set off.
So, he knows exactly what I mean, since we are both bondage enthusiasts, and he likes to put me in chains.
Last year, during lockdown, I had to zoom with my colleagues while handcuffed and I had to pay special attention to not let the manacles be seen on camera.
It was a strange sensation, the thrill to be found, the emotion….
I am a corporate lawyer, usually I stay on the west coast where I live with Jeff, a government contractor, but sometimes I have to hop on the other side of the country to attend meetings in person and to talk with clients.
Last year, due to pandemic restrictions, I skipped this part of the job, but now there are things that my clients do not feel confident to talk about over the phone, so right now I am in the city unfortunately dealing with face masks and a lot of sanitizer.
This also gives me a lot of time to stay in my room to work or talk on the phone between meetings.
Yesterday, while on the phone with Jeff, we were talking about something that we both saw on the net.
It was a chastity suit, a set composed by a belt and a bra. We saw that last year and it was something that put my mind in a frenzy.
"Should I close you in one of them?" He proposed as a joke. But just the thought made me queasy on my legs.
One evening, last winter, we even measured my body, using an order form that we found on the internet.
But that was the end of it.
So when he talked about it, I thought nothing of it. But today, as I enter the hotel lobby, the concierge tells me that there is a package waiting in my room. It had been delivered in the afternoon.
Obviously it is Jeff’s doing. But what does he have in mind this time?

As I open the door, I find a fairly cumbersome cardboard box. Immediately I inspect it and it is shipped by a “Markus Creations ltd”, a firm that does not ring any bell.
I am preparing to tear the duct tape away, when my phone rings. It is one of the clients I have to meet tomorrow, telling me that he had sent some papers to check beforehand.
This immediately puts the cardboard box out of my mind and, later, I am really too wasted from the legalese to explore it.
The following day, I finally get a chance to look at it, and when I pry open the tape, I see that there are different things, all singularly wrapped in bubble plastic and more tape. It takes me awhile to unpack them all, but as I place all the things on my bed, I am amazed.
It is a chastity suit, like the one we had discussed with Jeff. There are also some thigh cuffs.
Still recovering from the surprise, I take a picture and immediately send it to Jeff.
The response is quick and swift.
“Do you like it?”
“Damn yes. I want to talk to you.”
“Facetime me in an hour. I trust you.”
An hour? I will not be able to wait this long. I run to the bathroom, and after discarding all my clothes I take a long shower, to clean my thoughts and to refresh after a long day.
But I am not able to forget what is on my bed.
As I leave the bathroom, draped only in a towel I turn my focus on getting a better look at those things, picking them up to a closer inspection.

First, they seem unforgiving and sturdy. The belt is really solid metal. Well made. It is all unlocked. Simply said, you wear it like a diaper, it is hinged at the crotch and it closes at the sides. There are some pieces that I cannot figure out, but I really hope they will make sense sometime in the future.

The chastity bra is absolutely a piece of work. It is made like a sports one, hinged at shoulders and closing at the sides of the chest band. The back part is a metal band that I imagine rests in the middle of the back, between the shoulder blades.
The metal is thin and its edges are covered with something like neoprene or a similar material not to dig in the skin.
Then there are the thighs' cuffs, already connected with a chain, covered in plastic. I realize that maybe it is a system to dampen the rattle, but again it gives rigidity to the ensemble so that the thighs will not be able to touch.
Oh my god, just the thought of wearing this thing is intoxicating. It appears to be designed for long term use.
The side chains that connect to the belt are similarly sound-proofed, and also they have been made flat to be less cumbersome, and at the end they have a sort of plate that I imagine has to go between the two halves of the belt.

It is truly a work of art, and it is clearly stirring something in me.
I look at the clock waiting for the time to call up Jeff, then a crazy idea strikes me. As I loosen my towel, I pick up the bra. It is beautiful. I look at the breasts' dome and they are shaped mimicking a pair of tits, nipples included. They are designed to adhere to the chest and to block any access to any stimulation. In the bottom part of the cups, there are some tiny holes that I suspect would be used for drainage, in the case you shower or you have a sweat build up. This brought me to consider two things. First, there was some serious design on it, to take this problem into account. And second, again, someone is thinking that it is possible to wear this thing for a long amount of time, perhaps indefinitely.

Wow. I decide that I want to try it out and I proceed to place my head between the hinges that should rest on my shoulders. The rear band, connecting the nape of my neck to the rear chest bar, sits comfortable between my shoulder blades, exactly as I imagined. The whole contraption is padded with some black padding, neoprene or something. I stand up to go in front of the mirror to take a look at the locking mechanism. Where the rear part of the chest band meets the front, under my armpit, there is a ratchet that goes in a recess. It is something very similar to the handcuffs' mechanism that tightens as it closes. And also the keyhole is similar enough.
I'm getting way too excited to wait anymore, and I guide the ratchet into its recess.
Ratratratrat….click.

There is a moment of silence as I get the gist of what I have done. The size is perfect and I can feel the rigidity of the chest band constricting my breath. Mind you, it is not forcing me to take shallow little wisps of air, but nevertheless it is confining the expansion of my chest. Immediately, I try to reach for my breasts, I feel that my nipples are getting harder from excitement, and I really want to caress them and pinch them.
But, to my utter dismay, there is no way to get under the domes, neither from the sides, nor from the bottom.
Wow.

To take my attention from it, I return in front of the mirror. It is really a feat of engineering. It is shaped in a way that adheres to my curves. I bet that I can wear it under my clothes.
Question is: do I have the nerve? Will I?

So, I'm naked from bra down, and since now I want to show off for Jeff when he is going to call, I look at the belt.

As I move around the room, I can feel the weight of the bra on me, but it seems really well spread and balanced, after all.
I pick the belt and this also closes like the bra, at the sides. The waist belt is shaped to be high on the sides and low on the abdomen and on the back. As I read on the net, it seems that this shape gives more freedom and less constriction. And also it rests over the pubic bone.
There is a shield in front to cover my pussy and block any access, and in the back there is a steel cable, covered in plastic that goes between my butt cheeks, and two other cables that pass sideways, similar to the ones on the boxers' crotch protectors, if you have ever seen one of them. All three of them are connected to the crotch part between my legs.
As I had imagined before, the chains coming from the thighs's cuffs have to be inserted between the two halves of the waist section.
So, first I put my feet into the cuffs, and then guide them upward over my knees, until they are too tight for my legs. I notice that these are also padded for comfort.
As I try to put on the belt, I see that my legs cannot spread enough to let the front part of the thing pass through.
I solve the problem by turning the belt sideways and maneuvering it until the hinge between the front and the rear is exactly under my crotch.
Then I push the rear part on me with my left hand, while my right gets the chains, makes sure that they are flat and then put them around the ratchets. First one and then the other. As I put them in place, the cuffs are being pushed upward and the cable between them positions itself like a wedge between my upper legs. As I noted before, it is stiff enough to keep my knees from touching, spreading them four inches apart, more or less.
Well, moment of truth. Jeff has for sure sent my measurements to this Markus guy, since the bra is so comfy and of the right size for my body. Let's see if he has done a good job with the belt, too.
The now familiar clicking noises fill the room, once again followed by my stupefied silence.

I stand in front of the mirror for the third time.
As I look at my own face, I record an expression of utter surprise and amazement.
Here I am, like so many women I have seen online.
There is weight on me, I can feel it, but I can move. I get a weird gait, since I am not accustomed to the restriction of the thigh cuffs,
I try to creep my fingers into the belt to get ahold of my already wet sex, but there is no space, I then try to reach it from below but I am not able to spread my legs enough to have any reach.
Is it a dream or a nightmare? Well, now it is a bit of both.
Just the time to show it to Jeff and then I will be ready to  open these devices to roam my sex, thinking of these contraptions.
I am still savouring my orgasms to come as the phone rings.
It is Jeff, it is a video call.
I rush to get myself again in the towel, not wanting to spoil a surprise, and once I feel covered enough, I accept the call.
“Hi, dear."
He comes up to my phone with a happy smile. Yet it was the grin of the Cheshire Cat.
"Is there something you want to discuss with me?"
"You are an idiot."
"Tara, you do not like those things. Is it?"
"No it is not that. I think you should just have told me that you wanted to buy them. So, I could take part…"
"I'm sorry, I got this contact from a friend of mine. Markus is a very talented metalworker…. He is very specialised in this kind of stuff. But if you do not like it…"
"No, Jeff, it is not that…"
"So, what is the matter then…. Are they too heavy to ship on a plane? Please tell me."
"No, they are absolutely beautiful. Works of art, trust me…."
Then I put the phone down near the mirror on a little table so that he can see my whole figure.
"Yet I think, Jeff, that you got all the measures right."
With that I stand on my feet and leave the towel to fall on the floor, showing my setup.
There is a moment of silence and after that I can hear a voice over the phone, speaking a notch too high from excitement.
"Oh, my God."
And there again silence. I can see his open mouth on the phone screen, his eyes are darting from side to side catching every detail of the belt, of the bra and the cuffs….
"Please, Jeff, say something…."
He stutters before starting to talk.
"It's really beautiful, Tara. I really want to be there with you….. I did not imagine that you would put it on yourself… there…. I trusted you.."
"So what is the problem?"
"Well, how does it fit? From here it seems perfect. Are you uncomfortable? Are you in any pain?"
"No, you idiot. It is great. It feels wonderful. It is so good and unforgiving. I feel trapped, yet liberated."
On the phone Jeff's expression shifted from apprehension to excitement.
"Well, if it is so fitting, I'm very relieved, because we have a problem."
"What problem?"
"A problem that could have caused damages and finally hurt you. But we have been very lucky, it is only a minor problem."
"Please, what are you talking about? You are frightening me. Is it something important?"
"Yes. Do you have the box there with you?"
"The cardboard box?"
"Yes, that one. Look into it."
I start to search into the box, shifting the bubble wrap on the bottom, and I find nothing on the floor of it.
“What should I look for?”
“Try to imagine, Tara, try.” There is a different tone in his voice. He is sort of mocking me.
In my mind, I'm enumerating what there should be in this damned package. Belt, bra, cuffs, chains, keys.
Keys!
KEYS!
My eyes return to the phone, and he is smiling, then he brings some keys on a keychain into the camera's view.
"Looking for these?"
Now it is my turn to turn silent. I'm still not computing all the implications, and as I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes off.
"Well, it was a bet between me and Markus. He told me that you would be so enthusiastic about these things that you would put them on without checking for the keys. So he sent the set to you and the keys to me."
I can not put into words what I want to say.
"Well, I said him that you are not a sex crazed nimph, and that you would analyze the whole thing and that you would talk with me before dealing with the chastity set. Apparently, I was wrong."
I finally manage to get some words out, blurting.
"I'm sorry. I was just trying to surprise you."
"Well, you did. And you are beautiful in them. Really. But from now on, our relationship has to change. I think that you have to understand that I have the monopoly on your sex."
Without thinking, I respond.
"Yes, master."
I can not believe what is happening to me. How the belt has changed me.
"That's better. Ok, sleep tight, my love."
And he shuts down the call.
In the loneliness of my room, I try to budge free of the belt, but even if I force it down my hips, it does not move an inch.
In the clutches of desperation I cry myself to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, on the floor, with all the things still locked on.
There is still no clarity in my thoughts, but then I realize that the keyholes were not so different from the ones on the cuffs, so I dart to the fridge to grab the keys.
There I find them still frozen in a block of ice and immediately put them in the sink under some water to help the ice to thaw.

I have no idea how long it takes but in the end, the hole is similar but not compatible, and this escamotage fails before even starting.
Desperation takes hold of my heart. I'm on the other side of the country, in two days I will have to take a plane to return home.
And this brings me other troubles, case in point, the security check. How can I pass a metal detector with these things locked on me?
And, tomorrow morning, later, I have to meet some clients. O my God, I'm royally screwed.
And yet I feel excited as hell. My right hand immediately runs to my own crotch to find my pleasure button, just to be stopped by the unforgiving metal barrier.
On edge, without means to release. Hell and damnation. Absolutely, hell and damnation. And pleasure.

What the hell can I do? What the hell will I do? It's a real big trouble.
How the fuck can I attend a professional meeting when my attention is focused on my clitoris, which is out of reach?
Do I have a choice? Absolutely no choice.
I start to hyperventilate, a panic attack is mounting in me, I slowly return to the bed where I find some kind of relief in moving my hips up and down while clutching the front of the belt.
I come back from this arousal, still unsatisfied, but relaxed enough to think somewhat straight about the situation I am stuck in.
First, I think about outfits I can wear with all of this. This excludes pants of any sort and shape, no see-through blouses, and over the knee shirts.
Lucky for me I had these in my baggage, enough to arrange a couple of outfits for the days ahead.
The airport question is still to be solved but there is still time, no use worrying about it now.
I realize that my body seems not willing to go to the bathroom. But it is time for me, belt or not.

Sitting on the toilet, I find that I can push the central rod to the sides to ease my business. For number one, the front shield seems to be shaped in a way to let it flow without being trapped. It is simple, and this helps me a lot.
Next I take a shower, and the water flows either down the bra cups and down the belt. The rest of the rinsing I do with the hair dryer.
It is a very awkward situation and I wonder if I'll have the guts to sit in front of my clients like this.
I have to, let's just hope I do not have to pass some metal detector on my way to the offices downtown.
Apart from the cuffs tugging on my thighs, fighting every step that is somewhat longer in stride than permitted by the chain, I find my pace outside of my room. And hopping in a taxi is very different, instead of entering feet first, thus spreading my legs, I had to lean with my ass first and then collect my legs together in the car.
It is definitely making me very conscious, I have passed nearly an hour in front of the mirror to be absolutely certain that no metal is visible under the clothes. I figure it forces me to wear very classical attire, no cleavages, no short skirts.

There is no need to say that, during the meetings, my mind starts to wander, and I discover that my hand slowly shifts under the table to find yet again the unyielding metal shield.
I have to continuously force my mind to keep track of the things they are saying at the table.

I would have preferred a lunch by myself, but instead I'm stuck in a high class restaurant, with one of my clients.
There are four of us at the table, the CEO, we can call him Mr. T, his secretary, Eileen, and his legal advisor, Sarah.
In the past, Sarah had the hotties for me, and she approached me during one of the parties. Before the pandemic, that's it, when we used to have parties.
On that occasion, I went along, since I did not think it was like cheating on Jeff, and I like to experiment, sometimes.
It was nothing too hard, some hard petting on a room in the back of the house we were in, and, as I was thinking of inviting her in my room later for something more serious, her CEO caught me trying to sneak out of the party, grabbed me by the arm and tackled me for the whole evening to talk about his future projects.

Then came the pandemic, and the idea to pursue this chance was put on hold, but not forgotten.
Apparently I'm not the only one to possess long term memory, and so, as I get up to use the restroom, I realize that she is following me.
Tall girl, athletic, red haired, I think she would be the perfect candidate for a threesome at our house with Jeff. But, this is not the time, not when I'm literally under lock and key.
Once I enter the bathroom, she is on me, pushing me to the wall and kissing me fiercely, not leaving the time to utter a single word. By instinct, I kiss her back, her smell filling my nostrils.
What the fuck am I doing? Why am I not pushing her away? Why am I enjoying this bitch?
Even my own reactions are so confusing, and I pull her closer to me, and she immediately stops.
I open my eyes to see her puzzled face.
"What the…"
These are the only words that she manages to produce, then her hands are on my breasts.
Hurried, she starts to feel the steel domes covering my breasts. And, still unable to speak, her right hand shoots under my skirt to meet immediately the chain connecting the thigh cuffs.
Finally, she speaks.
"O my god."
Then I see an opening and respond.
"Tonight. My hotel or your house. I'll show you."
"My house. Eight sharp." And she blurts the address.
I manage to put myself in check and leave to return to the table. I have to keep my composure, even if there is turmoil in me. What will I do with Sarah?

The rest of the dinner is pretty uneventful, even if I catch, on various occasions, her looking hard at me, as if she is able to see under my clothes with only her sheer force of will.

After the afternoon meeting, I return to my hotel room to crash. Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind "one down, one to go…."
Easier said than done. I refresh my face, change some clothes and then I ask for a taxi in front of the hotel.
I give the address to the driver and when we arrive, I find myself in front of a condo with the usher opening the door for me.
I ask for Sarah and he calls to alert her of my arrival, then directs me to the lift.
I'm fidgeting as the door slides open, anxious and unsure of what I am going to do.
The door to the apartment is open, and once inside I find myself in a spacious living room with a sofa and a TV set. She is waiting for me, with a glass of wine in her hand and another one waiting for me on a low tea table.
I notice the clothes she is wearing, a sort of a long tunic, light brown, it defines her body contours even when seated.
She rises up to greet me, and I am certain that she is naked underneath that thing.
"Show me."
It's the middle way between an order and a request. But we are in a private apartment and I see no problems in that, without any word I start to shed my clothes on a chair nearby.
I must admit that there is some relief in baring it all. The struggle to keep these contraptions hidden under my clothes all day long, took a toll on my brain.
This might be a place of freedom, of ease of mind.
Unlatching the belt of my skirt, I slowly let it down my legs, observing her gaze. Her eyes widen as she gets a glimpse of the thigh cuffs, then, if possible, she widens them even more as I open my blouse from the top down baring the bra before anything else.
In a couple of minutes, I am in the middle of her living room, wearing my shoes and all the chastity gear that I cannot open.
She is feasting on the sight of my body and as she comes near me, I can actually feel her heart pounding furious in her chest.
"This is gorgeous." She mutters under her breath.
I feel her hands roaming on the belt, contouring its edges and trying to find a way in, without any sensible success, beside fueling my own excitation.
Then she explores the bra. I can see her attention to the locks under the armpits, and I can feel her attempts to insinuate a finger between the lower edge and my ribcage.
"Was it your choice?" She asks abruptly.
"What do you mean? Was it forced on me?"
She is looking right in my eyes, but I speak the truth, well, a good chunk of it.
"It is a gift from my husband. But I decided to put it on."
Maybe she could help with my travel arrangement for the return flight, but I have no intention to spoil the mood.
She opens the sash of the tunic and, I was right, she reveals to be fully naked underneath.
From what I can appraise, she is a natural blond, upstairs matches downstairs, and she is insanely good looking.
Even if I know that I will not find satisfaction today, I jump on her, kissing her deeply while grabbing her ass with both hands.
If she is surprised, it doesn't show. On the contrary, she responds to my attack by putting her arms around my neck to prevent my escape.
It is surprising yet exciting. It seems that the presence of the chastity belt is fueling her excitement just as her arousal is fueling mine. Definitely new, for me, at least.
"Follow me."
She conducts me to another room, her bedroom. On the low dresser in front of the bed, a cornucopia of things is displayed.
Leather cuffs, dildoes, rope, lots of bondage implements.
I'm scanning the assortment as she says: "I'm yours."
This offer takes me completely off my feet, my brain is racing through all the possibilities, then an image is clear in my mind.
I change my tone and order her to turn around. I pick up a head harness from the dresser, a combination of gag and blindfold that I proceed to put on her. After fumbling with the straps, she is silent from a ring gag stuck between her teeth and blind from a sheepskin blindfold on her eyes.
I can literally feel her senses heightened as she is trying to guess what will be my next step. I take advantage of this, grabbing both her breasts from behind. The gag shuts down her yelp of surprise.
Then I pick up a couple of leather cuffs, with some sturdy d-rings attached and put them tightly on her wrists, then I make the same on her ankles.
Taking a coil of rope, I then help her to climb on the bed and tie her ankles to the corners for the frame. I put enough tension so that her legs are forced to spread apart.
Another welp of surprise comes from Sarah, but I block any protest pulling her hands to her ankles and connecting each wrist to the cuff with a snap ring.
This is the position that I imagined just a minute ago, her face is on the mattress, while her crotch and ass are up in the air, accessible in every part. This forces her back to be curved.
I see she is testing her boundaries but the restraints are sturdy and well done. She has absolutely nowhere to go.
“Are you ok?”
I see her nodding under the harness, then I turn my attention to all the things on display on the dresser.
There. What an evil bitch this whole situation has made me!
I pick up a Hitachi wand and butt plug with a pump. Sitting there I also find some lubricant, I will need it.
"Ok, some ground rules, sis." I start slapping her ass to get her attention.
She is trembling with anticipation, I can feel her skin tensing and her muscles exerting their power to try to break free. Yet, she stops and listens.
"You are gagged, so you should be able to scream at will. Actually, it depends on how much you think this flat is soundproof or if you think that the neighbors are going to call the cops on you. But, if you want out at any time, just clench your hands tight two times. Together. So, you understand? Clench twice if you do."
I inspect as she makes a tight fist with both hands.
"Well, there you go. As soon as I see you do that, I'm going to immediately stop and ask if you are ok. Is that clear?"
Another clench. Wonderful.
I let her stew there while I wander around the apartment. There is still a glass full of wine for me in the living room. I gingerly pick it up, as I stumble in the kitchen.
Functional, stylish. In my mind, I am picturing Sarah as someone that is always out dining, yet as I open the fridge I see that it is full of ingredients and remains. Now I'm hungry. But, if I was in the position she is stuck in right now, I wouldn't want to wait while the other person takes her time to eat.
How rude, just thinking about it.
Perusing the drawers, I pick up something useful.
I stroll into the bedroom with the wine still in my hand. She is trying to guess what is going to come, just by the sounds.
I sip a little, then I pick a couple of butterfly clips from the dresser.
Her nipples are solid rock, as I touch them, she starts to thrash against the restraints.
"Look what we have here? Hello, little ones."
As I apply the clips, first to one of the breasts, then to the other, I hear her panting under the gag, to burst finally in a muffled cry.
I'm on a roll, I take in my hand a little funnel that I found in the kitchen. It is short and little, and I do not know what it is for. But it works perfectly for what I have in mind.
With a couple of fingers, I spread her buttocks, her asshole showing in all its majesty.
I slowly force the funnel inside it, ignoring her protests. As I look down at her hands there is no clenching.
I have read somewhere that you could drink alcohol by pumping it directly in the stomach, to be absorbed immediately.
It gives some dizziness and it just needs a couple of teaspoons to have someone drunk to smithereens.
I take a couple of sips from the glass, until there are just drops coalescing on the bottom.
Those I let in the funnel and look intently until the liquid finds its way inside her.
Then I pick up the lubricant and, after making sure it is suitable, I put a glop of it in the same funnel.
She is breathing heavily and this also shakes her stomach. The movements are enough to help the dense liquid creep in her butthole.
Then I take the funnel out to make room for the butt plug.
Sarah is totally surprised by the move, and as I push the pump to enlarge the plug, she trashes again with all the might she can manage to exert.
Still no clenching.
She is closed up by the plug and I can feel the cramps of her lower abdomen trying to get it out.
Couple of years ago, Jeff did something like that to me. It was a wonderful mixture of pain and bliss and pleasure. I will try to do the same.
I place the wand on her labia, and crank it up at minimum. At first she is so overwhelmed from the other things that I do not believe she understands what is going on. Gradually, I turn the vibrations up a notch, until she acknowledges its power.
Maybe some alcohol got to her system, and immediately she starts to trash and moan from pleasure.
Perfect.
Her arousal fills the room with the odour of her fluids and it turns me on like a bitch in heat.
Immediately my hands try to find my spot in my crotch just to be blocked by the metal barrier that is ensuring my chastity, yet I am aroused by her position, by the sounds she is making, by the stream of secretions flowing along her tightness.
I cannot believe how her pleasure is also affecting me, while I'm not even able to grab my own breasts.
Her moaning starts to shift to a deeper growl, muffled just in part by the gag.
"You do not have permission to get off, bitch."
I feel her mounting wave and I abruptly stop all vibrations, leaving her shocked and gasping for air.
As she arches her back on the bed, her face is pushed into the bed cover, that is fluffy enough to block her breathing through the gag.
As she is able to turn her head sideways, I can really see her gasping to catch up to a normal breath.
This game is wonderful, and she is not showing any distress. No clenching.
The room is filled with her smell, so strong it is intoxicating, and it is having an effect on me.
My own arousal is mounting, and I cannot find relief, I will not find relief. Hot damned mess…..
She comes with a bang and a muffled scream. And she collapses on the bed kept in position just by the restraints, panting with her chest heaving.
I'm not done, so I free her wrists from her ankles and connect them together behind her back.
I can hear her mumbling behind her gag, wondering perhaps if I would be so kind to remove her butt plug.
Unfortunately I have other plans.
"No, not now."
And, just to reinforce the concept, I pump the plug once more and she yells in surprise.
"Something to eat?"
She nods. So I proceed to untie her feet from the bed, placing a chain to connect them.
Still gagged and blindfolded, I got her up from the bed, using a corner of the upper sheet to clean her sticky tights.
"We do not want to make a mess, do we?" I mock her protests.
Just as a joke, I lead her towards the apartment's front door and, making sure no one is around, I open the door as if I am planning to go out in the street.
She panics, I see her clenching her cuffed hands, frantically.
I close the door, and whisper in her right ear.
"I wouldn't do something like that without your consent, I was just messing with you. Do you trust me?"
She stands still for a moment then she nods with her head.
"Still, it would be a wonderful idea…" I tell her out loud, chuckling.
Finally I move her to the kitchen and put her on a seat.
She flinches as the butt plug hits the seat, lodging itself even more in her asshole.
Using the chain I tether her ankles to her wrists, and then start to remove the gag.
Her exposed breasts are moving in a frantic rhythm, up and down, up and down.
I imagine that if I keep staring at her nipples, I could easily be hypnotized.
She struggles a little to find a position comfortable with the thing in her ass, and I watch her looking for some discomfort sign.
I manage to take the gag out without unlatching the blindfold. I really dig her struggle to understand what's next.
As she is able to talk, she opens her mouth just to find my finger on her lips.
"Shush, honey." And then I plant a kiss on her mouth, tongue and all.
She is responsive, very responsive. Both our tongues start a fight in our mouths. My right hand reaches the pump dangling on the rear of the seat, and keeping her lips locked to mine, I give a squeeze.
I can feel that she was not expecting that. She is startled for a moment and then she returns to my tongue with a vengeance.
I feel so turned on by this that I feel some fluid oozing on the sides of the crotch part of the belt.
If only I could put her tongue on my clitoris.
As I end our kiss, I ask her.
"Are you thirsty?"
"I feel tipsy and I want some water, please."
Good, she is not asking for release. This is absolutely something that I have to tell Jeff, he will so want to hump me like a jackhammer that he will open this fucking belt with his own fingers.
I take a glass of water from the sink and put it on her lips.
“It feels like I’ve drunk a bottle of wine, but we did not.” She is puzzled in her voice.
I smiled to myself, deciding I will tell her later, eventually.
Then I turn my attention to the fridge, and pick up some anchovies in a glass jar.
With a fork, I put them in her mouth.
“Swallow….”
She obeys, just to be assaulted by the salty flavour, and as she is trying to spit them out, I close her mouth with my hand.
“You were hungry, bitch. Swallow.”
I survey her hands, still no clenching.
She gulps down that fish, and when I lift my hand, she asks to drink.
This time I propose to her some wine and proceed to go through the leftovers on her fridge.
After a while, after some food and some tongue, and after I eat her pussy with a vengeance, I open her cuffs and she gets the blindfold off to run to the bathroom.
Beside being locked in a chastity belt and bra, this is a powerful experience, so that I feel so entitled to stroll around Sarah's apartment dressed only in metal. I can hear that she is taking a shower, so I lean myself on the couch and fire up the television to browse some channels while waiting.
She takes her time, but when she emerges from the bathroom she is a different woman, relaxed and refreshed.
"It was wonderful, Tara." Naked as she is, she sits on the couch near me, still looking at my steel devices and so attracted to them that her hands are circling on the domes on my breasts, or the waist part of the belt.
I do not know if I am more turned by her attentions or frustrated by the belt.
She comes to my lips and we share another deep kiss. She tastes nice.

Undoubtedly, the chastity devices unleashed a part of my libido that I did not know before. Unable to tend to my needs, I turn to satisfy someone else.
Good to know.
After a whole hour of teasing and caressing, Sarah is literally surging with energy, so I proceed to bring her out to another orgasm using my mouth on her engorged clit.
My own labia want attention, they need intervention. But even if they are so close to me, they could be on the far side of the moon, for that matter.
I'm doubly exhausted for carrying around all the metal that is closed on me, and for the sexual tension that I'm not able to endure.

She is spent too and so we doze on the sofa. When I reach a fair level of awareness, I realize that midnight has just passed. I have to choose where to spend the night. Should I call for an Uber to take me home or should I stay here to sleep off the night?
I also need to arrange my return, if there is an easy way to address the problem. On the spur of the moment, I tell Sarah my problem, conscious that she is able to understand my plea, given what we did tonight.

She listens to me, and I see she is thinking about some options. Her face turns serious, she is going through her contacts. Finally she lightens up.
"Maybe I can help you. Tomorrow morning I will have to call someone. Do you want to stay for the night?"
A wonderful idea springs up in my mind.
"Yes. On one condition."
"Spit it out."
"I will decide your arrangement for the night."

We slept together in her large bed, she was hogtied for the most part, and even trussed as she was she managed to shift her position to snuggle next to me.
She woke me up with a tongue kiss, stating that she would have eaten my pussy, if available.
As I jump on the taxi to my hotel, I'm still thinking if a lesbian relationship is good for me. Maybe just as a hobby, we will have to talk about this, and maybe involve Jeff. As I try to call him the bastard is refusing my calls.
This is my last day in town, and tomorrow I will have to get my belted ass to the airport and fly home. Once I get in my room, I start to search for alternatives. Renting a car is the most appealing, even if I would have to drive at least four days, alone.
Train would be comfortable, but I do not want to share public spaces for a long time in this setup. Imagine showering in a train bathroom and dealing with rinsing a chastity belt, bra and leg cuffs without raising any suspicion. Well, I cannot.
My thoughts are miles away from the documents I have to read, so I order something to eat to be carried in my room. Jeff is still not taking my calls.

I'm halfway through my salad when the phone rings. It's Sarah.
"Hello, gorgeous. How are you?"
"Still a bit sore after last night, but it was wonderful. I have to thank you for letting me explore this side of me."
"Well, I have to admit that it was a sort of unexplored territory for me, too. It has to be a side effect of the thing I'm in."
"No idea, but the sight of those things will be in my dreams for a long time."
I am blushing at the phone, embarrassed.
"But I was calling to know if you had found a travel arrangement for your situation."
This news makes me speechless.
"What?"
"She did not go into details. Just to say that her name is Theresa, I gave her your number and she will be getting in touch tomorrow at nine in the lobby of the airport. I had to tell her the situation."
"Oh, good. Is she trusted?"
"Yes, absolutely. I could trust her with my life."
This makes me less anxious, but still, I have to put my life in the hands of a stranger.
As I put down the phone, there is a mixed feeling in me. On the one hand, I'm relieved that there is a solution to the problem, on the other, I fear the solution itself.
The rest of the afternoon goes smoothly as I inch through my documents, every now and then my hands go to my crotch or to my breasts and remind me of what is so close to me yet so far away.
Tomorrow is going to be a busy day, so I pack my belongings to be able to leave just after breakfast.
Needless to say, it is a sleepless night, the uncertainty is devouring my mind.
I wake up already tired and order a light breakfast to be carried to my room. I prepare to wear an outfit long enough to cover the tight bands.
I settle for a formal two piece, skirt and jacket, completed by a high neck blouse, to cover the top of the bra.
As I survey my look in the mirror, I think that I could pass any visual inspection, but the metal detectors will be a very different story.

When I'm paying my bill at the desk, the bellboy announces that there is a taxi for me. I feel a sense of inevitability, either I follow a plan hatched by a stranger that I do not know, or I tell the driver to carry me to the railway station.
And what will be the repercussions on my relationship with Sarah. She trusted me during our night activities, should I trust her back?

I'm still thinking about it when the driver, after putting my bags in the trunk, asks me where to go. I put my mask on before hopping on the vehicle.
"Airport, departures."
Oh my, where did I put myself into?
The drive in the city traffic is pretty uneventful. I am lost in my thoughts, obsessing about shame and humiliation. I picture a photo of myself in the buff on the first page of the newspaper. Well, not in the buff, but paraded with all my metal contraptions.
Then I think about that TV program where they report the things they find at the airport. They find snakes, drugs and whatever.
Imagine if they find a woman locked in a chastity belt. It would for sure be a field day. Yet the thought is somewhat arousing.
We arrive at departure while I am lost in my thoughts, and I pay for the ride in a haze.

The driver is nice enough to put my baggage in a trolley, so I slowly approach the desk to ask if there are messages for me. The thigh cuffs are not a problem now, it seems I have found my walk.
There is a bit of a queue and as I am waiting for my turn, my phone rings.
"Hello?"
"Tara, you do not know me. I'm Theresa. Sarah told me about your situation. Where are you?"
"Hi. Information desk, departures terminal."
"Ok, good, let me get there. We do not have a lot of time."
A couple of minutes later, a woman appears at my side.
She is wearing jeans and boots, a plaid shirt and a leather jacket. She must be more or less my age, but she has an imposing physical appearance.
Under the jacket hem, I can see a gun holster and a handcuff pouch, she has to be police or something similar.
“Hi, Tara, nice to meet you. Could you follow me?”
The approach is blunt and direct, it leaves me speechless. I follow her in a trance-like state as she takes a door and guides me in a hallway and in a room.
I want to ask her what she has in mind, but she stops me in my tracks just with a finger.
“Let me be very clear. I’m a certified professional, I transport prisoners from different places in the country. If you travel with me you will pass the controls. But you will be my prisoner for the whole trip. Do you understand?”
I simply nod. How easy it is to take the role of a slave.
She continues with her speech.
“Ok, first I want to see what we are dealing with, so, enter there and undress.”
Her finger is pointing to a door, there is a tab on the side. It spells “Drugs”.
Obviously we are in the area used by police for searches and detention.
As I go into the room, I see an iron throne on the side of the room. As I get a more deep look, I see that it is a commode, entirely made of steel.
As if I have asked, she explains.
“This is for the couriers, the ones that swallowed drugs. You can cuff them there until they expel the merchandise. Wanna try?”
Oh my god. I’m in a room in an airport, reserved to detain smugglers until they expel the drugs they are carrying inside their own stomach. On top of that, I’m undressing in front of a stranger, and I am locked in a chastity belt and a steel bra both of which I do not possess any key.
“Well, I think I may have to use a toilet, after all.” I say softly.
As I discard all my clothes, she carries me on the throne, that is as a matter of fact like a high seat with a hole in the middle. Under that hole, there is a grilled tube that, I imagine, blocks whatever substance leaves the detained person.
As I sit there, I realize that it is an embarrassing position, everyone in the room can have a clear view of the matter. Absolutely no privacy.
And I’m still pondering on that, as she secures my wrists on the side of the seat.
“Oh, no.”
“Shut up, do your business and move it. We do not have all the time in the world.”
She is clearly inspecting my belt and my bra, since my hands are cuffed I have literally no way to hide myself.
“Well, well, what do we have here? Sarah described it to me, but in real life it is really something. Does it hurt?”
“No, it is pretty comfortable, yes.” I answer, feeling the weirdness of the position and trying to keep it casual.
“It’s all metal?”
“Yes.”
“It would be difficult to pass the metal detectors, wouldn’t it?”
“I think so.”
“Ok, let me take care of this.”
I force myself to pee in front of her, and in a little while I succeed. It is quite difficult to relax enough to let it go in front of another person.
After that I'm stuck there and she makes no move to untie my wrists.
"Well, we have to prepare for the flight."
And she starts to collect my clothes and neatly puts them in my luggage.
Then she takes some other clothes from a bag. It seems that I will have to wear a disguise. It gets weirder and weirder.
From the same bag she picks other things, but I do not have a clear view. From the sounds there are also some chains.
Oh my….
"Open up."
She inserts a ball gag in my mouth and then proceeds to secure a harness on the lower half of my face.
I'm startled by this move, but being still tied to the toilet chair gives me no way to flee or to refuse.
And then I think that, even if I would be able to escape, I would find myself in a restricted area in the middle of an airport terminal, locked in a chastity belt and bra. Without any clothes, at the moment.
Inside the cups I feel my nipples starting to get hard from excitement. My mind is already weighing the implications of Theresa's actions.
She said that she would treat me as he prisoner, so she must have a plan.
On the front of the waistband of my belt there is a d-ring. She threads a metal carabiner on it and a pair of handcuffs is fixed there.
Then she proceeds to free my hands. It is a very short lived freedom, since as a wrist is detached from the toilet it gets latched on the handcuffs.
At the end, my hands are stuck to the belt's waistband and Theresa has to help me to climb down the seat.
She positions me in the middle of the room as I try to test my freedom. I'm really not able to move my hands much. And every tug is transferred to the belt.
Interesting.
"Ok, Sarah told me to get creative with you."
Sarah? What did she tell Theresa? What does it mean to be creative?
The first part of the answer is a butt plug that is shown in front of my face.
"Lean forward. If you scream, we can see how good the gag is."
Reluctant, I obey while she is putting on some gloves.
I feel her smearing something on my butt crack then I can sense the pressure on my butthole.
I clench hard to stop her but she is relentless, to apply more pressure she grabs the rear part of the belt, blocking any chance of escape.
As the plug goes in, I feel a growing pressure, and when my muscles try to push it out, the pressure becomes uncomfortable. I scream in the gag, just to let a feeble whimper be heard in the room. Yes, it is definitely effective.
The pressure stops, and I hear a click from behind.
"There you are, locked and loaded." A key is paraded in front of my eyes, she must have the plug locked on the rear chain of the belt.
Wonderful.
I straighten up and try to look, but there is no mirror in the room.
She puts some collants on me, first a foot then the other. They are some fake garter belts so that the tight bands do not interfere with them.
From the pile she picks up something. At first I fail to identify the thing, then I try to say no, moving my head sideways.
"Don't be a fuss, we cannot let you make a mess on the flight, do we?"
It is an adult diaper, and she forces it on my body first inserting the crotch part between the belt and the thigh chain, then using the adhesive strips to close it in place.
I feel so humiliated, that some tears escape my eyes.
She places a plaid skirt on me to reach under my knees. It is brown, ugly brown. At this point, I realize that I have to comply with her plan, there is no gain in resisting.
There are also some flat shoes. Let's just say that they get along with the skirt.
Then she inserts my head in a white turtleneck sweater, and unties each hand just for the time it needs to pass it thru the sleeve, after that both my hands are fastened again at my waist.
She is very professional, it gives me reason to believe that she had forced clothes on people before. From her brisk ways, I would say that she had dressed uncooperative people, in the past.
I feel like a toy, unable to talk, unable to use my hands, I choose not to fight against her.
She tops my outfit with a jacket drawn on my shoulders.
"Nearly done, dear."
She takes another chain from the bag and I see that these are legcuff that go on my ankles over the shoes. There is a chain connecting them and also there is another chain that links them to my waistband.
Now I seem really like a prisoner.
Theresa takes a step back to inspect my transformation and seems pretty happy with the final result.
"Honey, we cannot let you around like this."
With a cotton cloth she cleans my face from makeup smudges and dried tears and then she puts a cloth mask around my ears covering the gag harness. The pandemic seems a perfect excuse to roam around gagged.
After checking the room, she takes my luggage and connects a leash to the waistband ring.
"All set, we have to go. We do not have much time."
Ok, right now we are talking of carrying me, dressed like this around an airport to catch a plane.
Like me in ugly clothes, locked in a chastity belt and gagged? Maybe this is a step too far. I think about refusing to follow her, but then I remember that she has Sarah's trust. And she would not put me in danger on purpose.
So, meekly, I subject myself to whatever is going to happen in the next couple of hours.
As we leave the room, I happen to understand what the leg cuffs are causing to me.
My steps are shorter than usual and I have to make an effort to keep her stride. If I fall, unable to use my hands, it is going to be a gruesome accident.
As we enter the main departure area, I see that just my appearance gets stares from people.
Theresa is going her way like it is nobody's business, but I get conscious. They are all looking at me.
With a steady gait we reach a police security control.
"Special transport, I'm with the DOJ. This bitch has to be in court tomorrow morning."
She hands some papers to the agent in charge.
"They did not warn us. Mrs…."
Without breaking contact she pushes it further.
"Usually we do not warn. This is Organized. So…"
"Mmm… ok… let me check credentials and tickets. I need you to free her hands."
"Honey, not on my watch, she has tried to flee three times last month. You can check her out with the hand thingy."
Surprised by the blunt response, he takes the small metal detector and passes it on my body, as he gets near the belt, I can hear it bleeping.
"Must be the cuffs." He says,
After what I think is the longest time in my life, he lets us enter the departure area.
Theresa rummages in my bag, eventually finding my phone. She gets to the contact list and finds Jeff's number among the ones that I call most.
She asks me if it is my husband's phone and then proceeds to call.
"Hi there, my name is Theresa. I'm managing your wife's travel arrangement. Right now she is pretty tied up, but she told me to tell that you should pick her up at the airport at…."
She tells him our expected time of arrival, then there is silence as if she is listening to his words.
"Oh, well, ok. Let me see."
She takes a step back and before I even realize she takes a picture of my predicament.
"I've sent it now…. No, she can't talk to you."
Theresa puts my phone near my ear. I can hear Jeff's voice.
"See? I was sure that you would find a way to return home. We have a little punishment that needs settling, remember?"
In this precise moment, I feel completely defeated, I have no power over my own situation. Maybe I did lose any control of myself for a little while, but this is the moment I realize. And at the same moment, I picture the humiliation potential that is part of this whole setup.
What if someone recognizes me, under the mask, the gag, the clothes?
What if my skirt rises up, showing my metals to the world?
And what if someone has the brilliant idea to take some pictures with his or her phone and post them on the net?
After all, I’m an attorney, I’m known, I can fall from grace.
I should be terrified, but I’m aroused, and I really wish that someone, preferably Jeff, could fuck me to kingdom come, here and now.
“We lost her. I will call you when we touch down.”
The leash pulls me out of my reverie, as Theresa keeps a brisk pace towards the gate. She goes directly to the counter in front of all the people already waiting to access the plane.
I'm keeping my eyes to the ground, knowing that they are all staring at me. I firmly believe that all of them know all the truth behind my disguise.
And this makes me even more horny.
I hear her dealing with our place on the plane, but I'm so much in turmoil that it is difficult for me to follow their words.
The only thing I understand is that we have to sit in a special area in this lobby, waiting for our turn to embark.
As Theresa conducts me to a seat in the lobby, I have the chance to look around.
They are all looking at me, oh my goodness! I really would like to scream to relieve the urge that I feel inside me.
Lucky me, I'm thoroughly gagged and I can't really make a scene. But as the dizziness stops me in my tracks, she is tugging the leash in her direction. They call for us, and we go into the tunnel to the plane before anyone else, in front of anyone else.
A hostess gives Theresa directions to our seat. I’m not brave enough to look at her in the eyes. I have this irrational thought that if I make eye contact with anyone, they will immediately get to know the whole of my situation.
Theresa’s hands help me sit on an economic class chair, and once my butt rests on the plastic, I feel that the plug is being pushed even further inside.
My moanings are muffled by the gag, and once she secures my safety belt, I really feel stuck in place.
Then all the other passengers are let on the plane, and to my horror I see that all of them are going to pass in front of me, getting a clear view of the prisoner.
I fight to not cry, then I realize that they are not seeing me, but a disguise of me. And the thought that my situation is so on display is enough to get me horny again.
"Unfortunately, you will not be able to read a book, so I thought that you will need some distraction during the flight."
Theresa is showing her smartphone to me. She has opened an app, and she is connecting to something.
Then she flickers with some controls with her fingers, and at first I do not understand what she is doing.
After a couple of seconds, the butt plug comes to life, and starts to slightly vibrate.
She is intently looking at me, while she ramps up the vibrations. At first, it seems like an itch that obviously I have no way to scratch.
As the movement intensifies, the vibrations are transmitted to my vagina, already alert and engorged.
It is enough to propel my horniness but nowhere near enough to let me get an orgasm.
She must have caught some movement in my hands, so the thing abruptly stops.
"Ok, we have ninety minutes. I do not want to spoil the fun."
I look in horror as she sets it to random frequency and random intervals, and with a broad smile, she puts the phone in her pocket. In desperation, I try to free my hands, but the cuffs are unyielding, and the only result that I get from tugging the belt is to push the plug even further up my own ass.
Ok, I'm in the middle of a crowded plane, full of people well aware that there is someone handcuffed on board. Therefore there is someone guilty, someone dangerous enough to be restrained for the whole flight. I have to relax and control myself.
I feel the brunt of the humiliation, yet I'm definitely horny. I can feel that my pussy is literally oozing. And then there are the relentless attacks from the buttplug.
As soon as I relax enough to slump on the seat, the damn thing chooses to start again to torment my ass.
As i open my eyes, I see Theresa looking at my hands, they are clutching the air, in a spasm. If I had something to catch, to stroke, I would do it.
Between the cuffs and the belt I'm pinned to the seat, and every vibration makes me squirm to no avail. The gag does a good job in silencing my pleasure.
The final humiliation comes in the middle of the flight as I feel the need to pee, due to the stimulation and the air conditioning.
Now I understand the plan, and feel trapped as I realize that Theresa has decided to force me to wet myself.
In a diaper. On an airplane. Cuffed. Belted.
The situation is both a nightmare and a dream come true, and this is what it needs to let me get an orgasm here and now.
As she gets that my head is swaying in the throngs of pleasure, she grabs my chin and looks directly in my eyes.
"Don't you dare, bitch."
The force in her voice is something that makes several heads turn in our direction, while I catch that she is cranking up the plug.
It is literally too much for me. And as I come down from it, I pass the rest of the flight panting and trying to catch my breath, exhausted I finally slump on my seat and manage to relax.

The rest of the flight is pretty uneventful, I rest as I feel the impact of the plane's wheels on the tarmac. As we dock to the finger, Theresa pulls me by the leash before all the passengers.
I feel the humiliation of the whole parade, along the whole plane, along the runway, and it seems she is purposefully dragging me in the most crowded areas of the whole damn terminal.
Suddenly she stops on her tracks and she clips the leash to a stair rail.
I'm surprised by this and I'm even more startled as she grabs the neck of my sweater and with a swift move tears it off me.
As a matter of fact, it seems that all the clothes I wear are designed like some stripper's outfit, which you can shed in a single move.
As she moves away, I realize that now I'm covered by the belt, the bra and the mask hiding the gag underneath.
In an airport, chained to a rail, with hands and feet cuffed.
I look around in complete horror as I see people grabbing their phones and starting to take pictures and videos. I frantically try to get free but there is no way I can open the cuffs and free the leash.
As I scream her name, muffled by the gag, there is space around me. People are fleeing from me.
In a pandemic world, with the occasional terrorist attack, I myself would take a safe distance from a situation like mine.
There is a crowd around me at a safe distance, and I try to see Theresa, but I cannot locate her face among them.
After a couple of minutes, there is security around me, they are speaking to me, asking for my name, the reason I'm here, dressed like this.
Obviously, I try to give them the answers, but the gag is still blocking my mouth, but they cannot see it under the mask and I cannot reach it with my hands. It's humiliating and frustrating so much that I start to cry.
Then the buttplug starts to vibrate and it goes directly to my brain.
The security guards hear the sound of it and immediately think it must be a bomb.
I try to tell them as I hear they are calling for the bomb squad in their radio.
It must be Theresa, nearby, playing with the controls of her phone.
A lot of people are recording the whole scene on their phones.
I'm beyond scared, so beyond that it is a situation stirring something in my core. The helplessness, the embarrassment, the exposure, bring me pleasure instead of terror.

The plane touches down with a sharp bump, and I wake up in my seat.
I look around astonished, I'm still wearing my clothes, I'm still stuck in my seat, cuffed, belted and leashed.
It was just a vivid dream, enhanced by the thrill of this whole situation.
It is sheer luck that I'm wearing a diaper, because I can feel another hot stream of piss leaving my body.
All the other passengers are guided out of the plane before us, and there is another line of stares and looks. It seems like they all have x-ray vision and they are all able to see what is hidden underneath my clothes.
If I had less fear, I would have flashed someone my tight cuffs.
In the end, we are allowed to leave the plane, while walking I can feel how cumbersome the soaked diaper has become between my legs.
Like in my dream, it is a walk of shame to walk through the airport in this condition.
It's puzzling that the same humiliation seems to fodder my horniness, what is wrong with me.
After what seems like a thousand stares that are obviously seeing through my disguise, or so I think, we finally reach the outdoor runway. Theresa picks up my phone and calls Jeff.
"We are just outside the terminal. Where are you?"
I am not able to hear his answer, but staying there in the open is quite nerve wracking.
After what seems ages, finally Jeff gets to the curb.
I cannot wait to be released by all of this, but first I really want these cuffs opened. And then the plug. Oh my, how much I want the plug out. And the gag, too. And this soggy diaper.
Yet Theresa makes no move in that direction, she greets Jeff, telling him that the flight was splendid, and then she gives him my phone and the keys.
While he is placing the baggage in the trunk, she helps me to sit in the rear of the car, locking the belt, thus pinning me to the seat.
I try to protest but the gag is still lodged in my mouth.
She closes the door and I see she is talking to Jeff. They are looking at something on my

 

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