Having It All

by Jurgen von Stuka

  “Must be an interesting feeling,” Jim said to himself as he pulled the second strap snug across the slightly pointed tits and watched them compress somewhat but, because of the cones and clamps, fail to flatten. “I keep getting conflicted over whether we want your tits and ass reduced to flat blocks of fat and muscle or to leave them clamped and extended. What a fuckin' annoying dilemma,” he added as he repositioned the breast straps around the projections of her clamped, conical tits.

  The third strap went across Sandy's shoulders and the fourth held her head stable, pinning her forehead, what there was of it, to the cushioned headrest of the table.

  Strap number five went over the top of her thighs. Number six went over her lower thighs, just above the knees, number seven was tightened below the knees and number eight at the ankles. Each was equipped with heavy roller buckles and could be snugged down terribly tight, but since Sandy was in the bag for the night, Jim only applied moderate pressure and tension as he studied Sandy's vital signs and made appropriate adjustments when it appeared that one or more straps were too tight. Jim checked the gauges again and noted that her body temperature was a bit too high for his liking, so he opened a small valve in the foot of the bag and adjusted another that was at the top of the head enclosure. Even though the bag was almost a vacuum inside, these valves allowed cool liquid to slowly circulate through the entire capsule. In five minutes, Sandy's body temperature was back to normal. Once her pulse and respiration slowed to normal sleep levels, Jim again checked the displays and went to bed.

  Inside the double constraints of corsets and evacuated bag, Sandy studied her feelings as the suction pressed the bags tightly against every portion of her body. She found it remarkable that even though the corset seemed to leave no space for additional compression, the vacuum in the bag, and then, later, the eight body straps added more sensuous pressure. She felt the cooling solution begin to circulate and this relaxed her even more. A few minutes later, Sandy settled down in a sleep mode, controlling her breathing and letting the pressure take hold, imagining that she was sinking into deep water and the increasing pressure from all sides was the catalyst to put her into a deep, restful sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Milked Maid

  Sandy's next experience with the corset duplicated the one with the original prototype. It was no less strenuous with her nipples attached to the knitting needle and chains. By the end of the session, she was completely exhausted, but unable, of course, to do anything about it. The corset system was a continual torment, enhanced from time to time by the needle rod through her nipples and the rest of the accessories that played minor parts in the continuing drama of tormenting Sandy. At some point, she had no idea of time, she felt the tension on her pierced and stretched nipples relaxed and the needle withdrawn, only to be replaced with what felt like some kind of flexible rubber caps which engaged each nipple and remained there, held by suction. From Sandy's limited perspective, she was not sure exactly what would follow, but as Jim continued to manipulate her nipples, she felt pretty certain that he was going to suck them using these rubber caps.

  Jim's mission was setting up a new form of entertainment for Sandy, designed to periodically milk her heavily corseted and compressed tits, something they hadn't tried before. The compression cones on the breast flesh might, he assumed, help or perhaps hinder the milking process, but only a live experiment would tell, so he hooked up the dual suction hoses with their liter-sized receptacles and turned on the power. The pumps kicked in slowly, building suction as they pulled air out of the hoses and then tightened the nipple caps until each nip was snugly sealed inside the rubber cap and all air was removed from the system. Sandy shivered as the sensations, now altered from the needle rod suspension to a light and persistent tugging, increased.

  The first tiny jet of clear, milky liquid oozed reluctantly forth from first one nipple and then the other, visible in the clear plastic hose as it began its journey down the hose and into the container.

  “Just so we understand each other,” Jim said as he stood next to his corset-mummified girlfriend, “this minor procedure will improve as time passes. Each day, from now on, with increasing duration and intensity, I'll milk you and expect a more satisfactory result. Your rations, sweet thing, for the past two weeks, have included a lactation hormone and you have noted, I'm sure, the swelling and tenderness of your tits. To accommodate their increased size, I have obligingly reduced the compression cones on each tit. So now we're going to help alter that unpleasantness with more unpleasantness: your daily milking.”

  Sandy groaned. This wasn't in the plans she had formulated when she said she wanted a house with a bath tub. Somehow, things were totally distorted and out of control. As the pumps increased suction and her breasts ached from the cones, the corset clamps and the relentless tugging on her nipples, Sandy reflected that perhaps she should just go with the flow and see what happened. After all, there wasn't much else she could do, and Jim's endless offerings to increase her erotic pleasure certainly were much better than the horny dreams she still had at night. Perhaps, she thought, in time she'd adjust to all of this and the dreams, having been at least partly fulfilled, would stop.

  “But then what?” she thought. “Would he leave me? Would all of this painful, frustrating, unpredictable, sexually tantalizing activity stop? Hell no,” she thought. “This is too good to stop and too bad to continue. What am I going to do?”

  As if to answer her mental pondering, she felt a light touch at her ass and then a more pronounced contact as Jim shoved his erect member between her buttocks. Sandy could do nothing but try to unclench her rear sphincter and wait for the coming ass-reaming. When it came, she struggled and fought within the all-encompassing corset, crying and begging for more and less and then more. The tit-milkers continued unabated. The ass fucking went on longer than usual and Sandy, as usual, had more climaxes and mind stunning explosions than she usually had. “Perhaps, it’s the corset,” she thought as Jim drove his still rock hard, condom-wrapped prick even deeper into her colon and kept his strong arms wrapped around her corset-sealed waist. “Whatever it is, it's terrible. I hate it. I love it. I hate it.”

  When they finished, he removed part of the head corset and gag and offered her a drink and a bit of cheese. As she chewed, she mumbled something that Jim couldn't quite hear, so he asked her, “What did you say?”

  “Don't you ever do that to me again, do you hear?”

  “Well, okay. If that's the way you want it.”

  “I do…until maybe tomorrow…” Sandy's voice trailed off. “Yeah, tomorrow. More wine please.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Suspensions

  The idea that eventually Jim would hang her up from the overhead hooks in a full and unyielding suspension continued to tantalize Sandy. Even when inescapably bound in rope or chains in one of the rooms of the house, she found that she frequently fantasized about suspensions. Exactly how this might be realized continued to elude her, but at times she realized that what turned her on would in fact be physically impossible. Nevertheless, the fantasy remained. That the concept fascinated Jim as well was not lost on Sandy, so when he began one evening session by showing her a group of light chains hanging from various hooks, she held back her usual complaints and whining and just waited to see what would follow. As things turned out, she probably should have voiced her discontent because once she was gagged and hooded, she was in no position to object to the complex scheme that Jim implemented over the period of the next few hours. Safe words were not possible and safe moves, while still available to her, would have broken the spell, so she waited.

  Initially, the hanging was a simple thing. Jim forced her to stand on a small stepladder while he attached the padded wrist cuffs and spread her arms out just far enough to attach an adjustable spreader bar fastened directly above her wrists. The hood Sandy wore offered Velcro closures over her eyes and mouth, but these were closed, so she could only stand and wait for the n
ext move to incapacitate her.

  “Now, my dear,” said Jim in her ear as he busied himself around her always enticing, nude body. “We are going to get creative.”

  To Sandy's surprise, Jim did not move to her feet, but went instead to her ringed nipples and attached two separate chains there, taking up the slack until she was standing hazardously on the balls of her feet in order to reduce the tension on her stretched nips. Inside the hood, she moaned, but almost no sound came through the dense fabric packing in her mouth and the sealing gag pad, not to mention the hood itself with its tightly fastened series of straps that forced the gagging material deeper into her mouth.

  “Now,” said Jim, loud enough so that she heard him easily. “It's time for your feet to join your hands.” He attached a padded cuff to each ankle and then raised one of her feet upwards in front of her until it connected with a hanging chain. The second foot followed and Sandy was suddenly suspended with her back to the floor and all four limbs, plus her tits, connected to the overhead winches. Instinctively, Sandy tried to bend her knees and found that this caused her nipple chains to tug even more, so she tried to relax and straightened her legs. Then she felt the probing cold of something metal nudging her ass.

  It's probably that damned hook again, she thought, although this time the head of the probe was much larger and felt like a cold metal ball being stuffed up her ass. She tried again to relax and felt the thing pop inside and then the momentary stretching sensation ended and the rest of the hook slowly invaded her rear passage. When it stopped, Sandy was again surprised to feel it angled forward, not backwards, so that the pulling effort was towards her sex, not up her ass crack and to the base of her spine.

  What the fuck? she thought and mumbled aloud into her gag and hood. That momentary mystery deepened as she felt yet another metal probe entering her forward cave and sliding without resistance well up inside. There was a bit of manipulation between her legs and then tension was applied to the hook and its accessories and Sandy found that her center was being lifted a bit by the ball-tipped steel hook embedded in her colon and assisted by the fat metal dick in her cunt. The feeling was not unpleasant, but it caused Sandy to ruminate about this sort of suspension and wonder if in fact that was what she had been subconsciously thinking about for the last few weeks. The moment ended as Jim clipped another set of cuffs around her legs just above her knees and attached hanging chains to these as well. Then he followed this with spreader bars at these cuffs and at her ankles.

  “Interesting, isn't it?” asked Jim in her ear as he stopped to survey his work.

  Sandy nodded her head, already well aware of the linked affects of her hanging bondage. Any movement sent signals up her impaled and hooked ass and into her cunt. Not coincidentally, the curved end of the ass hook was in direct contact with her clit, helping to bring about three simultaneous sources of stimulation. She felt Jim doing something to the top of her hood and felt weight being placed on her dangling braid. Then her head was pulled back and, if she could see, she would have been staring back and down at the distant floor. When she tested the head restraint, she was surprised to find that it put a different directional tension on her ass, cunt and clit since the braid chain was linked to the hook but pulling in the opposite direction.

  “Let me verify all of this so far,” Jim said. “I want you to be able to picture your predicament in the most graphic terms.”

  Sandy hummed and tried to shake her head to let Jim know that she really didn't need an inventory of her situation.

  But Jim persisted.

  “At several locations on your lovely body,” he said,” I have embedded tiny electronic, digital sensors. These register the slightest change in everything from body temperature to heart and respiration rates. If you are about to explode with an orgasm, I will know about it before you do…assuming these sensors work properly.”

  He sat in a comfortable observation chair next to his suspended partner, typing on his digital notebook and making notes on what he accomplished in terms of the unique multi-point suspension and the various sensations it should be causing.

  “By the way, love,” Jim added as he typed. “You should think about what works for you here and what doesn't. File those points away in your head since you really have nothing else to do.”

  Sandy hung motionless, also trying to identify the various sources of her excitement and pain. Certainly, the hood and its elaborate gag were an immediate source of discomfort. Complicated by the backward pull of the chain attached to her hair and the linkage to her asshook, this was, she noted, the most attention-getting complication for the moment. The nipple chains were probably next, she thought. Relaxing a bit and letting her back sag somewhat brought unwanted stretching and pull on her already sore nipples. The more the nipples were pulled upward, the more her whip-sensitive breasts stretched.

  No relief there, she thought.

  This would only get worse in time and she had no idea how long Jim intended to keep her this way. The rest of the suspension was almost nominal, she thought. She hung by enough points so that her weight was distributed among the nine hanging chains: two on her hands, two on her feet, two on her middle legs, one on the devilish ass/cunt/clit hook and two on her tits.

  That was when Jim added another element. Actually, two additional elements: First there was a thickly padded collar, something she expected anyway. A chain from the overhead to a ring in the front of this helped further distribute her weight, so she placed this addition in the plus column of her mental calculations. The second was another story. Jim slipped a sort of belt or sling under her ass. She only felt it for a moment but what she felt was hundreds of tiny pinpricks across her buttocks and hips. When he tightened the overhead chains holding this sling, the pins lightly dug into her ass further. In reaction, Sandy tilted her pelvis away from the belt and relieved the prickling. The intent of this added “support” was quickly apparent. If she kept her back straight, which was not easy, she was not supported by the sling. If she relaxed, there was some weight support afforded by the sling, but the million tiny, sharpened pins went into her butt. The pins were too shallow to inflict deep wounds, but resting her weight on them felt something like resting on a series of saw teeth.

  Sandy now hung in total suspension. She was blind, unable to speak and suspended from winches in the ceiling by nearly a dozen or more chains that could be tensioned or relaxed as Jim saw fit. Her asshole, cunt, clit, nipples and butt were all under some sort of punishing pressure and each movement, each muscle tremor, every twitch brought both discomfort and sexual stimulation. It occurred to her, as she contemplated this position, that if Jim was more creative, he would have found a way to attach a few other sensitive body parts to the web of chains. For instance, she thought, there must be some way to connect her nose, her tongue and perhaps her earlobes to this intriguingly complex web. Still, she thought, this was a pretty thorough suspension. There was no relaxing, no release. Nothing got better with time. Everything got worse as the clock ticked off seconds and minutes and hours. Everything Sandy knew and recalled from the recent past told her that Jim would leave her here for the night, if not longer. She swallowed, tried to bring her head forward and got the jarring spike of the ass hook pulling her stretched rectum upwards, the steel dildoe in her cunt thumping the walls of her sex and rubbing annoyingly on her already excited and swollen clit. As soon as she moved her head back slightly, the braid lessened the backward tension and the overhead chain yanked the hook and attachments up and forward, bringing different sensations. Without any warning, Sandy experienced a massive orgasm, something that built up while she was mentally studying her predicament and then came like a tsunami that sent a massive tidal wave of heat and shock across her body and brain with each nerve center responding to the impact of the multiple stimulations. She shuddered and shook and each tiny movement further aggravated the already electric overload to her nervous system. The orgasms came again and again, without any notable respite. When she
finally hung lifeless in her chains, the sensors imbedded in several of her body parts all showed that she was finally coming down, but slowly and with secondary tremors rattling her body and mind.

  Jim, at his notebook computer, noted these reactions and reminded himself of what might improve them next time. He figured it was time to let Sandy sleep, so he flipped over the sling to its plain side, reduced some of the tension points, mostly those on tits, hair braid and hook, allowing her to sleep in suspension until morning.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Silver Hat

  Tired of Sandy's continuous murmuring, gagged and ungagged, muffled and unmuffled shrieks, Jim decided that he needed a day or so of silence, so he pulled the now common penis gag out of Sandy's wide-open mouth and started shoving in long pieces of a clean dishtowel, cut into strips. He stuffed the long strips into each cheek, making sure there was no space left before he added more cloth to the area between her teeth. When he was sure he'd filled every tiny crevice inside her mouth and half way to her throat, he took a long strip of the towel and used it to cram the packing deeper. He wrapped this around her head, pulling it tight and forcing the rags deeper inside her mouth, spreading her teeth apart and opening her jaws as much as possible. As usual, Sandy alternately fought this invasion, but the wrist to elbow cuffs kept her hands immobilized and the shackles that had become more or less her household hobbles held her in a position of little resistance. So, thus encumbered, she simply gave up and allowed Jim to do what he wanted to her packed mouth. He wound the retaining strips around her head twice and tied it off in back. Sandy now presented a ghastly picture with her jaws wide, teeth showing because her lips were drawn far back. But Jim was not finished. He folded another towel into a small, compact square, placed it over Sandy's open mouth and then tied it in place with twine, forcing the already dense packing back further into her throat and sealing the area around her mouth, from below her nostrils to her chin.