“Make me,” Holloway said, taking a position against the wall and reaching into her shoulder bag. As her right hand went into the bag, both Ted and Max made their move. Ted leapt across the room and grabbed the arm that was still partly in the purse while Max tackled the blonde and took her to the floor. As she fell, Holloway’s hand came out of the bag clutching a short silver tube that looked like a long lipstick but, upon later examination, turned out to be a pepper spray. Ellen opened a drawer in her desk and produced a small zippered bag which she brought over to the pile of three people now grappling on the carpet. She opened the bag, removed a small aerosol can and held it ready in her right hand, more or less aiming it at Holloway, but waiting to see if the men were successful in restraining the now franticly struggling woman. Ted had already used his own set of nylon restraints on the woman’s wrists, locking them behind her back, but she was kicking and both men had to dodge the powerful swings of her high heeled feet, not wanting to make contact with a spiked heel. Grabbing one kicking ankle and twisting it, Max used another set of flexi cuffs on the woman’s flailing feet, binding her ankles with one band and then slipping another around her legs just above the knees while her tiny skirt slid up her thighs. After that, things settled down. Another set of the nylon cuffs went around her elbows and was pulled tight, bringing her arms back until the elbows touched and the forearms were parallel. Her shoulders were now pulled strictly back and her full, actively jiggling breasts jutted out even further from her chest as she continued to struggle against the men.
“You can’t do this,” Holloway, shouted. “Let me go. Let me go.”
Ellen reached into the zipper bag again and removed a large pear-shaped rubber plug and jammed it into Holloway’s open mouth before the next sentence came out. The nylon band on the end of the pear wrapped around the woman’s head and was secured behind at the base of her skull and pulled tight by Ted. The fat pear disappeared into Holloway’s mouth and the noise stopped…more or less.
“I think a hog tie is appropriate, Ted,” Ellen said, stepping back to watch as the two strong men continued to wrestle with their charge and replacing the aerosol can in her bag.
“Agreed,” said Ted. He attached a longer strip of the flexi cuff material to the wrist cuffs and pulled it through the ones on her ankles, then shortened it until hands and feet were neatly joined and Holloway’s skirt was up around her waist, displaying all of her expensive black pantyhose with a semi transparent, black, French bikini built into the panty tops. Presented with this somewhat formidable array of feminine equipment, Ted took another pair of long flexi cuffs and wrapped them around the woman’s thighs, cinching it tight with a shorter length and sealing her legs tightly together from crotch to ankle.
“Whew,” said Max, standing up and surveying the still thrashing blonde from a safe distance. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Ellen. What was that you have in the bag, some kind of knockout drug?”
“She picked herself. This is what she wants.” Ellen said, putting the zipper bag back into the desk and shutting the drawer before she sat down. “And as for the little spray can, you don’t want to know.”
“You have all the papers?” Max asked more casually now as he sat in the chair the woman had recently vacated.
“Oh yes. She sent them back by courier with her instructions and the scenario, all signed and witnessed and blessed, but geeze, what a tiger, huh?”
“BBuuuummm, fiff theeem eee,” squealed the blonde through the pear gag. “Uuuu aaannnnk aaaaooo uuhhgh.”
“Yeah, well, maybe later, Honey,” said Ellen. “I think we need to close this matter now,” she said to both men, nodding towards Holloway.
Ted got up and went out the office door while Max opened a file cabinet and withdrew a nylon bag which was about the size of an airline carry-on bag. From the bag he pulled out an assortment of leather items and dropped them on the floor in front of the hog-tied Holloway, who eyed the pile with a mixture of anger and fear.
Ted came back with a heavy duty two wheeled hand cart; the kind used to move heavy appliances. He parked it near the door and then opened the office closet on his left and said over his shoulder: “I could use some help with this. Double your pleasure may be the rule, but two of them weigh too much for this poor old college wrestler to handle.”
“Sure, Ted, Sure. I almost forgot about Lynda,” said Ellen as she and Max went and helped Ted pull out the refrigerator-sized packing container that was neatly fitted inside the closet. The crate was about seven feet tall and three feet wide and deep. It was made from a blue synthetic material that looked a bit like painted plywood but was smoother and stronger with extensive aluminum frame and supports. Designed for shipping valuable electronic components, computers, printers and storage units, the crate was strong and heavy. The locking latches on the front secured a double door opening which Ted unlocked and then opened carefully while Max and Ellen stood back in anticipation.
The inside of the crate had a divider panel from top to bottom, making two equal but separate compartments, each lined with a two inch thickness of closed cell foam and equipped with what looked like a dozen or more padded adjustable stainless steel hose clamps of several different sizes. Some of the clamps were open and others closed. The purpose of the compartments and the clamps was obvious, for the left compartment held the leather clad form of Lynda, bound with the padded clamps around her torso and limbs. She was immobile because of the fastenings holding her to the wall of the compartment and, other than her leather enclosed ample chest rising and falling with slow, rhythmic breathing, made no other movement.
“Looks okay to me,” said Ted, poking the tightly fitted leather body suit at the breast and buttock areas and getting a shudder and twitch from the well bound occupant.
“Right,” said Max. “Let’s get this little Amazon into her suit and packing as well.”
The trio then untangled the pile of leather on the floor, released Holloway from the stringent hog tie and began to stuff her into the leather body suit that they laid out under her on the carpeted floor. This procedure took time, as they put her feet into the bottom of the suit and started the zipper up the front, pulling the suit around her legs and torso, keeping her bound arms behind her and sealing the suit at the throat. To further secure it, they used wide leather straps at ankles, knees, thighs, waist, above and below breasts and around her upper arms, pulling the straps tight and closing the roller buckles with small locks. Holloway more or less cooperated, although her bondage allowed for little resistance anyway.
They completed the work by placing large cotton pads over her eyes and securing the pads in place with tape that overlapped the pads and sealed the areas around each eye. Elongated rubber ear plugs were fitted into each ear canal and held in place with a bit of adhesive jelly that also provided an additional seal.
When they finished, they had Ingrid Holloway, a neatly wrapped, 125 pound, nicely built blond, bound, gagged, blinded and packaged in a snug leather suit, so tightly strapped up that nothing moved except perhaps her fingers and toes. The toes didn’t count because they remained in her five inch high heels that had been flexi-cuffed to her feet before they began the suit enclosure. The silhouette figure with its strapping was complete except for the blond head with the pear gag filling its mouth.
“I think she needs something special on her head, don’t you guys?” Ellen suggested, sitting on the floor next to her new acquisition. “What would you suggest, Ingrid?” Ellen asked the trussed and gagged blond lying on her back, the dual mounds of her massive breasts rising and falling rapidly from the exertion of trying to resist the inevitable enclosure in the leather suit.
“Uuumm ehh ooff ehhh nee,” was the gagged response while the body in the suit flopped ineffectually on the carpet.
“Well, Ingrid, you’re right about that. I think the least we can do is find you something to protect your head during the trip upstate. How about a nice rubber ball?”
Max rummaged in another file cabinet and came up with what looked like a large, deflated, black rubber balloon with a zipper, two hoses and a small valve in it. “Try this,” he said.
Together, Ellen and Max stuffed the blonde’s head into the rubber bag, inserting a hose up each nostril, making sure that it led out through the holes in the balloon, and then they closed the zippered back carefully, being cautious not to trap any of Holloway’s hair in the zipper. When fully closed, the rubber bag fit snuggly around the woman’s head and the smaller base formed a neat black rubber collar around her neck. They checked the air hoses again and found they were working, then applied a small bicycle pump to the air valve on the side of the bag and slowly inflated it until what had been a rubber enclosed head shape was now an inflated rubber ball on top of the leather enclosed figure. The pump was removed, the air value checked for leaks and everyone, except Ingrid, congratulated themselves on a successful day.
“What about a bit more protection for that pretty head?” Ellen asked suggestively.
“You mean….?” Max offered with a wide grin. “Surely not that,” he added.
“Why not? You’ve been dying to try it out. Give her a shot,” Ellen said, also grinning a bit fiendishly. “She gave us enough trouble today. Besides it’s what she wants. Read the contract. It says, quite explicitly, that she wants to be abused and defiled to the max without inflicting any permanent harm, no matter how much she resists or objects. Note that there’s also an escape methodology.”
“She said that?” Ted asked, a bit incredulously.
“Right, no matter how she protests…and she has sure done a lot of protesting in the last few hours, I’d say.”
“Okay,” said Ted. “Just remember that we haven’t really tested this as much as we should, so be careful and make sure she continues to communicate while it’s being done.”
“Yeah, sure,” said Max, “she’s very communicative. What’s the escape factor, just in case?”
“Well,” said Ellen starting to rummage through the information packet that had been delivered earlier that day. I think it’s simply SOS in any form. But let me check. You guys want to give her a squirt, go ahead. It’s non toxic in any case. Worst that can happen is we have to peel it off her later on.”
Max was already kneeling next to the twitching, strapped, leather bound figure on the floor. He had an aerosol can with an attached hose in his hand. The container looked like the kind that is used to inflate flat tires. He was screwing the end of the hose onto the air valve of the rubber head enclosure.
“Okay,” he said. “Here goes.” He pressed the release button on the can and the contents hissed as they went through the hose and the air valve of the inflated rubber hood that encapsulated Ingrid’s head. The hood slowly inflated more. When it was almost double its original size, Max stopped the flow from container to hood, unscrewed the hose and then bled some air out of the valve, reducing the hood’s size to close to the original
“It’s going to take a few minutes to harden,” he said.
Ingrid was flopping about on the floor, grunting and groaning through the gag and the hood. Inside the rubber hood, a gelatinous mixture of sterile foam was expanding and covering her face, surrounding her head and sealing her off from all senses except breathing, which was through the hoses. The material was warm because of the chemical reaction that first caused the foam to expand to fill whatever area it occupied and then from the hardener that had automatically mixed with it as it left the aerosol can and entered the hose. The overall effect was probably a bit like drowning in some sticky, clingy mass, but Ingrid was able to breath and her respiration rate increased rapidly as the sealer encompassed her face, closing off and sealing the areas around her mouth where the pear gag provided an effective seal. The same happened to her nose and eyes where the hoses and cotton pads protected the organs from contact with the foam. The plugs in her ears had the same effect.
Everyone else watched and listened to make sure she wasn’t signaling in Morse code, but the struggles seemed random.
After about five minutes, Max poked the hood and confirmed that the material inside it was now hard and the consistency of inflatable insulation foam.
“That ought to do it,” he said. “Let’s load this mother.”
Ingrid was stuffed into the second compartment of the crate, the multiple steel bands with their tightening screw closures were closed down around her voluptuous figure, in most places duplicating the positions of the already in place straps and securing the blonde to the wall of the container in the same position as her companion in the other compartment. The rubber ball head was held in place by foam supported brackets.
“That should do it,” said Ellen, happy to be done with Holloway for the day. “She’s got what are essentially triple bonds….the flexi cuffs, the suit, the straps and the steel bands. Think that’s enough to hold this tiger? She’s going to be fun to break, wouldn’t you say, Max?”
“Most definitely, I’m looking forward to that,” Max affirmed. “Most definitely.”
They loaded the locked crate onto the hand cart, extended the double safety wheels from behind and took the load out to the elevator. Two new recruits were headed for the camp.
Lynda was having second thoughts about her decision to go with F&E. As far as she could tell, it was four days, (or maybe three), since she’d been packed in the crate. From that time, she had no idea where she was going or where she ended up. Her present situation wasn’t exactly part of her fantasy. It was unpleasant and confusing. She lay in what seemed like a pile of straw or hay. She was tied in a stringent hog tie position, still as naked as when she had been taken out of the crate and unceremoniously removed from the leather suit and metal bondage. They had left the hood, with its gag, in place and tied her as she was now, with arms pulled back and tied with several layers of coarse rope around her biceps. More rope was on her wrists and pulled them close to her bare ass, with the ends pulled through her crotch and tied to the multiple rope bands around her waist. Her feet were tied at her ankles, with additional rope under the arches. Her big toes were tied together, more for the discomfort it caused than for security. Rope from her bound feet led up and joined the elbow restriction, keeping her in the bent position for hours. Her body was cramped and all of the muscles hurt, but no one offered any release or relief except that every few hours it seemed, someone came and stuck the end of a small hose through the front of the hood, through the gag plug and told her to suck. Lynda sucked and swallowed water, juice, tea or whatever else was offered. Much less often someone came and released the ropes between her feet and her elbows and made her sit on a bucket and relieve herself. She peed on command, soaking the rope between her legs and eventually not caring. She had had no solid food for days and was living off whatever nutriments were in the liquids she took through the hose. The only good thing, as far as she was concerned, was that she was losing weight.