Having It All

by Jurgen von Stuka

  The group met in the huge underground room that was reserved for F&E’s special events and personal activities. This was the room with the steel tripod that was used to suspend the body bags. At other times it had other uses. For example, for this meeting of the group, the tripod was raised to a greater height so that a person of normal stature could stand under the apex of the structure, have their arms fully raised and be lifted off the floor. That was how Betty Lee Kim was using the tripod at this moment, the pretty, petite Asian, who was usually the occupant of the Yellow Room, hung by her wrists from the tripod’s center hoist. Her tiny feet and toes were six inches above the floor, so all of her weight was being supported by her wrists, which were tightly bound in padded leather suspension cuffs, which were quite different from ordinary cuffs. The design of the suspension cuffs was such that the hanging body’s weight was not applied to the circumference of the wrist, but rather to the entire limb, making it safer, easier and more comfortable for long periods of suspension. Her ankles were cuffed with ordinary steel shackles which were attached to two different legs of the tripod and a 1.2 meter long metal spreader bar connected the shackles, making any lateral change in the position of her legs quite impossible.

  Kim wore a contemporary ensemble of garments that were unique to the Cabin Crew. Her little, sharply pointed breasts were sticking out through small, metal rimmed holes in the black carbon fiber reinforced bra she wore above the tiny black thong of similar material. On each side of the bra and panty were leather cases, similar in appearance to what one might use to hold a cellular phone. At the front of the panty was a slightly larger black leather box. On the bra, between the cups, was another identical package. Kim’s head was encased in a thin leather hood that had the eye holes and mouth covered with removable panels. She was breathing through her nose and the nostril holes in the molded hood’s face. The normal look of the hood, bra and panties, was deceptive, for they were, as Kim would have told anyone who allowed her to comment, unbearably tight. Fashioned with an internal spider web of nylon fibers and spines, the hood had ratchet closures that required the binder to use small cranks which were inserted into the tiny hex screw heads spaced at small intervals along the closure panels at the rear of the hood. Once the captive’s head was inside the hood and the leather was smoothed over the skin, hair and bone of the skull, the individual ratchets were slowly cranked, one by one, pulling the edges of the enclosure closer together and molding the hood to every detail of the wearer’s tormented head. Kim’s nose and ears were pressed flat against her head and the front of the hood showed only small contours of the covered eyes and plugged mouth. Ellen had described to Kim her own personal experience of wearing this fascinating device and suggested that Kim might find it interesting. Ellen had also developed the bra and panty combination with the same materials and function. The Asian, who was clearly obsessed with maximum discomfort and what many would have considered to be unreasonable pain, immediately agreed to be the next victim of all three items.

  Frank’s Hat, as the hood was called, served the function of keeping the wearer very much in tune with his or her facial and cranial senses. As the ratchets tightened, the brain registered the compression in various ways…some uncomfortable and others quite stimulating.

  Actually, there were six different versions of this hood, each with its own special peculiarities and perverted affects. There were a full range of sizes in the hood, bra and panty collections, but all performed the same functions…squeezing the head, tits and lower sexual organs of the wearer. Kim wore rev.2.2 and, based on the sounds coming from inside the hood, she found it more than moderately amusing. The bra and thong were equally distracting to the wearer. The small pouches on the garments housed batteries and small electric motors that caused the bra cups to contract, squeezing the breasts at the base and forcing the rest of the mammary tissue out through the metal circle in the front. As the cups shrunk, there was nowhere else for the flesh to go, so it slowly oozed out of the opening at the apex, nipple first and then angry, red tissue following. The thong had a similar operation, but it had a two-part function. The tiny motors and spines in the front of the thong pushed the lower lips outward, splitting wide the central slit, opening it dramatically and pulling the lips to limits beyond tolerance. At the rear of the thong, two thin, almost wire-like probes, could enter the rectum and carry out unscientific, but highly sensual explorations of the inner anal cavity. It was, as Ellen had described it after she experimented with her first prototype, like having a cockroach up your ass and not being able to scratch it. Frank thought, after trying it out, that it was more like an itching hemorrhoid, but in any case, in tandem with the frontal activity, this rear end action became more than an annoyance as the intensity increased.

  All of the bra and thong operations were remotely controlled. From time to time during the group meeting, the ratchets on the hood and the devices on the bra and thong were slightly tightened by whoever was the delegated monitor at that time and it was something of a game to find out who could evoke the strongest pleas and complaints from Kim as the three garments drew ever tighter. Mostly, Kim just whimpered into the built in leather gag that was fastened to the inside of the mouth hole covering. Her whines and moans were an annoyance to other participants and she consistently ignored the instructions from the monitors as to when and who was supposed to be making noise at any particular time. The penalty for unauthorized noise was five strokes with a nasty, brine soaked cane. Application of the cane usually drew the opposite of the desired effect and Kim simply yelled louder.

  “I suppose we’re going to have to do something about this racket,” said Don/Donna, who had drawn the short straw that afternoon, meaning that instead of participating in the therapy session, he/she would serve as one of the two monitors. “Thinking back, I seem to recall that there’s an over hood for this rev 2.2 model. Let me take a look around in the storage bays and see if we can get some peace for awhile.” He/she went off into one of the adjoining rooms and soon emerged with a much larger version of the same hood, but this one had a soft foam liner, dual rubber breathing hoses and a simple zipper closure.

  “Let’s get this on little Zipper Head there and shut her up,” Donna said. She was Donna at that time, dressed in a shiny PVC cat suit that showed off her excellent breasts and the rest of her artificially augmented body. She wore tall, thigh-high black PVC boots with five inch heels, roundel spurs and a shackle set that allowed her to move around but still provided some sensation of ankle restraint. With gloved hands, she quickly fitted the additional hood over the first one, plugging in the bases of the air hoses to Kim’s nostrils and then zipping the back closure tightly shut. The noise from the Asian girl diminished considerably as the foam liner soaked up much of the stream of continuous abuse pouring from the gagged and sealed mouth.

  “Now that that’s settled, I think it’s your turn, Patty,” Donna said, smacking the upraised bare buttocks that protruded from the top of a small metal box. Only the ass and a bit of waist and thighs were exposed. The rest of the body was confined inside the box. Donna delivered the smack with a long narrow wooden paddle that she kept hooked to her belt. The response from inside the box was immediate and urgent, indicating Patty’s usual degree of discontent with her situation. She bellowed and babbled incoherent complaints and threats to Donna who responded with additional whacks with the solid wooden instrument.

  “Sthop ith, sthopp iths, bleeeeze,” Patty screamed, her high pitched voice distorted by the confinement of the box, her upside down position inside and the combination gag bit, cheek retractors and nostril pullers which were installed with a leather skull harness. Her nose was being pulled upwards by two metal prongs hooked in the edge of each nostril, creating a somewhat animal like appearance. Larger metal hooks were seated at the corners of her mouth, protected by soft pads to prevent tearing the tissue. These hooks were pulled back and connected to the usual head harness and could be tightened or loosened with only minor efforts
on the part of the monitor. Finishing Patty’s oral punishment was a large combination bit/snaffle/gag that pressed her tongue down and pushed up on the roof of her mouth, making speech and anything else normally done with the mouth somewhat difficult. The sounds that came out of her oral cavity were thus more or less unintelligible and indicated that the harness and its hooks were working satisfactorily.

  Her forearms were strapped together behind her back and the biceps were bound to her sides. Straps holding her arms crossed her chest above and below her breasts and held a set of breast cups that were lined with tiny sharp spikes. When Patty tried to move her arms or hands, the metal breast cups moved and the spikes did their thing. Naturally, being Patty, who was anything but stoic during her sessions, she howled incessantly. She wore the usual wide leather collar and it was joined inside the box by a short split chain that led from the collar to a junction where one chain went to each shackled ankle. Thus, even though her ass and waist were confined at the top of the box, Patty wiggled around inside and created loud thumps and bumps, especially when the paddle made contact with her glowing red ass. There was little sound in the room other than the continuous weeping from the woman trapped inside the box, but her assailant continued to administer the beating, working slowly up one thigh, over the tight cheek and then down the other side, again and again. The blows were timed to about every twenty seconds, so at the end of five minutes, Patty had a bright red butt and no remaining white flesh for Donna to attack. Putting down the paddle, Donna slowly inspected the swollen and glowing ass, touching each raised weal with a fingernail of matching color and tracing the individual marks as if she was looking for anything she might have missed. Patty simply whimpered inside the box, her facial cheeks and nose distorted by the hooks and the gag.

  Donna finished up with Patty for the moment, triggered a few short remote bursts of tightening on Kim’s three appliances and walked over to one of the more interesting exhibits in the large room. It was, from all appearances, the trunk of a large living tree, but it began at floor level without roots and ended in the second floor ceiling with only a few heavy branches. These branches were currently serving as supports for two female bodies that hung by their roped encircled breasts, from either side of the tree. Hooded, gagged, blindfolded and wearing nothing except a tight waist chain with matching crotch chain, the two women were twins in every respect. From their light brown hair, which was tightly pulled back in a top of the head braid, to their carefully maintained, ultra fit, tanned bodies, the two seemed to even twitch at the same time. When they did, the bells and weights attached to their nipples and lower lips jingled and jiggled. The twins came to the Cabin most weekends and insisted that they be treated equally. They usually were, but when they were in their room in the cellar, the game was to mix them up so that no one knew which was which. At times, this resulted in the same twin getting double the treatment and one going without. So, aside from these twin decorations dangling from the branches, the really interesting thing about the indoor tree was its bark.

  The dark brown, slightly weathered tree bark was in perfect condition and it looked like the trunk of a large tree was running through the floor and ceiling of the room. Closer, much closer inspection revealed tiny vertical and horizontal cracks in the tree’s rough bark. Donna touched what looked like a circular knot, perhaps the scar from a long ago lost limb. The bark surface changed and a long, narrow panel opened out, revealing a tightly confined and totally bound woman inside. It was the former Dallas Cowboys Cheerleader in all of her celebrity finest. She was, of course, naked.

  “I just love this Wooden Maiden thing,” Donna said to the group, as she inspected the restraints on the tree’s struggling captive. The girl was squeezed into a narrow compartment no wider than the door. Her arms were strapped to her body at several points; her torso bore additional restraints in the form of thick metal bands. Similar bands restricted her legs, neck and feet. She was standing on tiptoe in a pair of extreme high heels that forced the toes to bend at ninety degrees so that the rest could follow the high curve of the arch and the heel could remain in contact with the inside of the shoe, except that they weren’t really shoes. They were welded metal copies of shoes and the feet they held were locked into place with metal bands over the toes, at the top of the arch/instep and again at the ankle. Other bands over the shins, knees, thighs and upper thighs held the captive in strict compliance with the contours of the compartment. The final detail to this clever confinement was a hardwood brank that contained the head and face. Made by a local clockmaker, the details of this headgear were usually lost to the observer and left to the wearer to discover. The clamshell device was fitted face first, with small apparently wooden plugs going into the nostrils and ear canals. A much larger and longer, egg-shaped wooden plug was forced into the wearer’s open mouth. Two almond shaped, hollow cups covered the eyes and then the shell was closed, sealing the wearer in a snug and diabolical mask/helmet. The nose plugs held valves that allowed breathing, but these were controlled by tiny clockwork mechanics that could open or close the breathing openings. If the operator wanted to, he could shut off the captive’s air supply or substitute some other breathing medium, like laughing gas or helium.

  The plugs in the ears had similar clockwork capabilities. Minute, hair-like projections could be activated to tickle the inside of the ear canal to the point that the wearer could go insane. Sounds too would be provided for recreational use. Ellen had once piped in a few uninterrupted hours of mindless, idiotic babble by Snot Puppy, a gangster rapper, while Frank was inside the tree and wearing the brank. When he was released, Frank had been reduced to a babbling vegetable and stayed that way for a few days while a contrite Ellen nursed his damaged mind back to reality.

  “Anything, please Darling, anything but rap,” Frank pleaded. “Kill me if you want, drive a stake through my ears, but please, in the name of Allah and God, not rap. I might survive the moronic gibberish, but the constant, repetitive background noise that sounds like someone banging garbage can tops together will melt what’s left of my brain.” Ellen had agreed and had since carefully restricted the audio in the brank to more human content.

  The present wearer of the wooden brank inside the Wooden Maiden was the usual inmate of the Purple Room. She was apparently enjoying her session and simply hissed through the brank gag when the tree door was opened. There wasn’t too much else she could do anyway. Every part of her body was restrained in the most stringent way possible. The coffin-like enclosure in the tree trunk allowed no movement and the wooden head enclosure kept even her eye lids from moving. When the hidden door was closed, the woman in the Wooden Maiden was content to breathe and think. That was the extent of her activity. As part of the group that day, she made very few actual contributions. Eyes, ears, lips and all other body openings were well sealed. Before being placed in the wooden tomb, Purple’s digestive tract, which was always functioning minimally, anyway because of her strict diet, had been thoroughly purged. Cleansed from throat to rectum with multiple flushing and evacuations, she was extremely aware of the fact that there was nothing but low nutrient fluid in her system. Before her rectum was plugged with the invasive inflated plug, she endured three different enemas, each calculated to first remove any internal debris and then to clean out and sooth her gastro-intestinal system. The enemas were uncomfortable, but the after effects were nominal. A catheter took care of the fluids that were fed to her through the mouth-filling plastic gag, so she was more or less in a condition of stasis without having to do or move anything. Purple was essentially a live tree, standing alone, doing nothing and going nowhere. The straps and clamps that held her were really functional in that they held her limbs and torso in their snug and restrictive embrace. But even without them, she would not have been able to do more than perhaps wiggle a finger or a toe now and then. Lining the interior of the tree trunk and holding Purple tightly in place was pressure sensitive, closed cell urethane foam that accepted her body contours and th
en, after a few hours, became eighty percent hard from the catalytic action of her body heat and the non-toxic hardener chemical in the foam. After the third hour, Purple was completely immobilized and the foam liner was a sort of extension of her body.

  So, that is why she only hissed when Donna opened the door, letting in a cool blast of room air and exposing only a small amount of Purple’s lovely, captive flesh. Donna thought it might be useful to stimulate Purple a bit, since she was so totally inanimate, so he bent over and applied his tongue gently to Purple’s soft left nipple. Almost at once, from the first touch, the pink nipple began to harden and then became rigid as Donna attentively applied more and more moist tongue to the now active apex of her breast.

  “Guess you aren’t dead,” Donna said, flicking the right nipple with his glitter painted index finger. This nipple also responded quickly and actively to his attention and he switched back and forth with his mouth and tongue, licking, sucking and nibbling with his teeth until he got the desired response from Purple in the form of increased respiration and a swelling of the breast tissue around the now engorged nipples.

  “Very good,” said Donna, admiringly. “Very nice. Glad to see that you’re still with us, Elle.” He used the cheer leader’s real name because he thought being called by the room name was demeaning and Donna had endured enough demeaning communication over the years to respect Elle’s probable need for a more civil form of address. By now the cheerleader was puffing and panting through the brank and gag. Donna took the remote control from his jump suit pocket and adjusted the control valve on the brank gag, opening an additional airway through the gag so that Elle got more air without as much effort. He then activated another control that allowed for small increments of pure oxygen to mix with the incoming air, giving the girl an additional respiratory assist.