A Curious Fashion Statement

Jon was confident that the stage was set for a successful Friday night out. He’d made enough casual acquaintances in a variety of bars around San Francisco so that he could easily make a comfortable entrance, greeting a few folks as he surveyed the scene for attractive & approachable unattached women. His practice had usually enabled him to enjoy a satisfying one night stand on a fairly regular basis, but he seldom took the same girl home more than once, avoiding long term commitments at all costs. His sexual preferences were fairly tame by Bay area standards, but he’d had his occasional flirtations with kink in the past.

Tonight he dropped into one of his more frequent destinations, smiled & nodded affably to the bartenders & a few faces in the crowd he recognized. In a dark corner, he noticed a girl he’d seen before, but never quite found an opportunity to approach. She had smooth olive skin & long dark hair, appearing fit but quiet. In fact, her impassive, almost detached, neutral expression held a strange appeal for him. Eye contact didn’t really make her smile, divert her gaze, or react noticeably, enhancing her intrigue. It was almost as if she was waiting him out, patiently eyeing him over, awaiting a move that would reveal his vulnerability. This seemingly withdrawn demeanor intimidated him a little, but fascinated him all the more.

He watched her from a short distance, as she crossed her shapely legs alluringly; his eyes were repeatedly drawn back to her tight short skirt, gleaming high rubber rain boots & the curve of her calves. After such a long time that he began to feel a little anxious about his hesitation, he decided there was nothing to lose by offering to buy her a drink, make some small talk, & see what happens. The effort went smoothly enough; she told him her name was Monica, she was glad he came over to meet her, etc, but her facial expression didn’t match her dialogue. She showed no real facial expression of encouragement, as if she were just going through the mechanics of socializing, but without emotion. This made Jon all the more interested in pursuing what he thought was the prey. And so the evening proceeded…

Jon gradually awoke in a daze; it took several minutes to even realize he was in the process of doing so. He slowly realized he was in a dimly lit sparsely furnished bedroom, hands bound behind his back around a thick steel vertical water pipe. A firm female voice let him know he wasn’t alone. He recognized it from the bar he’d been to the night before.

A strikingly angular tall muscular young woman with lustrous long black hair appeared in front of his face. As he focused, he connected the image with the voice. It was Monica. He had agreed to go back to her apartment for a nightcap, pleasantly surprised that she’d offered without his prompting. And now this rude awakening! He began to understand – she’d spiked his drink with a sedative, Roofie, perhaps?

Her demeanor, compared with the night before, had changed, though. She now leaned imperiously against the edge of the bed, legs crossed directly in front of him, wearing the knee high boots that had caught his attention in the bar – tan, black, & pink plaid glossy lacquered rubber rain boots. They squeaked noisily in the nearly empty bedroom as she shifted her legs about, glistening in the faint light, but clearly accenting the strong, graceful curves of her well toned legs. Her calves filled out the top of the boot cuffs snugly, resulting in an almost imperceptible indentation in the soft, full flesh just below her knees.

As his eyes moved up to take in the rest of the sight before him, she slipped off her tight, shimmery mid-thigh-length spandex skirt, & Jon noticed she was wearing a glossy, well polished high-waisted long leg panty girdle of matching plaid lacquered heavyweight rubber. It had a thick black waistband, into which a heavy duty thick black zipper led up the front, from deep in the crotch to the high, narrow waist of the garment. A heavily reinforced thick black rubber handle on each side was installed to enable forceful efforts to pull the narrow waistband over the wearer’s hips.

Curiously, a padlock held the edges of the waistband securely together. 'No problem for me, if she wanted to be locked in that thing', he thought.

Thick, equally heavy black rubber cuffs accented the thighs. She stood up & casually twirled around, displaying the other unique feature of the unusual undergarment, a mouth-shaped opening right at the bottom of the seat of it.  As he gazed upward, he saw she also wore a glistening tight fitting rubber matching plaid halter-style jogging bra. 'Curious fashion statement', he thought.

Finally, with an arrogant tone, she spoke. "Jon, I know you were strangely attracted to these boots as we met. You probably don’t realize what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you should know that you’re now mine for the taking. No worries, you didn’t score last night, at least not with this girl, in case you’re thinking you picked me up in that sleazy bar. At least now, I hope you realize you should have had a little more respect for a girl you see wearing rubber boots like these, wondered if she had a matching undergarment like this underneath her street clothes, & imagined what agony she could conceivably inflict on you, like I’m about to! None of that really matters now, though, as there’s no way you can possibly survive what I’ve got in store for you." She shoved the inverted "U" of the ass of the girdle in his face. It reeked of lacquered rubber, with just a hint of female scent. He had no idea how evil her plan for him could possibly be.

"Perhaps you’re thinking I selected you at random for this little adventure. Well, think again, Jonnie boy. Remember a girl you used to date, about 10 years ago? Her name was Dawn, & she was my sister".

Jon became seriously nervous now, as he recognized the name of his one-time girlfriend who had succumbed to a bizarre high stakes Friday night bondage game ritual. She had devised a reverse timer release, which included an electrically timer-triggered lock on her total enclosure heavy latex hood & sleep sack. She had been counting on Jon to appear in the nick of time to release her before the timer went off. They had been teasing each other for weeks about the chances of forgetting or being late, which turned both of them on intensely.

In fact, when it was Dawn’s turn to rescue John, she purposefully held him hostage in a state of progressive oxygen deprivation before unlocking the heavy, restrictive cowl fastened tightly over his head & upper torso. He promised himself he’d had enough of such rough bondage play after that, & left town on a business trip the following weekend, despite Dawn’s plan to await his rescue. He didn’t expect her to follow through once he’d sworn off further participation. What he hadn’t realized at the time was that she had confided in Monica.

"So you thought the plane tickets, a few credit card receipts, & confirmation of your trip to Boston by your business associates would satisfy anyone investigating Dawn’s death, didn’t you? Well, it may have satisfied the Keystone cops who interviewed you when you got back to the Bay area, but it didn’t help me get over it at all! She suffocated, suffering horribly in that heavy latex cocoon you called a sex toy, while you casually went your merry way. I knew what really happened!"

She struggled for a moment to remove her right boot, turned it upside down, & let a small silver key drop noisily onto the floor. She then used the key to unlock her waistband, & with repetitive tugging & pulling, slid the rubber girdle off her buttocks & her hips, down her thighs, & over the left boot, which she left in place.

"Do you know what this is?" She held up the bright highly polished undergarment she’d just wriggled out of. Reaching into the aperture of its backside, she pulled the invaginated material down & out of the opening, to reveal a 6 inch collar of thick, plaid lacquered rubber, with a similar heavy duty black zipper extending down the back from the ass along the now exteriorized cylinder, with its own thick, shiny black rubber border. This zipper, similarly, was fastened securely to the edges of the border with a serious matching padlock.

"It’s a 3 legged girdle, but a specialized one, actually a locking rubber suffocation girdle, for your information, & you’re about to find out exactly how it works". With that she used the key she’d stored in the toe of her boot to unlock the padlock at the end of the girdle’s "middle" leg.

By now John was squirming uncontrollably, as it was plain that his fate was in her hands, & it was not a pleasant one at that. She held the sweaty, warm rubber boot up to his nose. "Here goes the only hope you have of survival." She dropped the key down the shaft of the bootleg, letting it loudly rattle as it landed in the bottom of the toe. He could see the deep, dark confines of the boot swallow the key, now hopelessly out of sight, as the acrid odor of rubber, sweat, & glue that held the boot together repulsed & disgusted him. She replaced the boot, key & all, on her right foot & pulled it firmly up her right calf, which produced a loud "whoosh" as the air escaped from the airtight boot. She patted the tight rubber cuff under the inside of her knee with a confident smirk.

Next she strode over to his corner & held the open end of the middle leg of the rubber girdle over his face. "Take a good long whiff, Jonnie, because that’s the second to last thing you’re going to smell". The strong, pungent odor of industrial rubber & glue that repulsed him just a moment ago from the boot emanated inescapably from the girdle. John could unfortunately read clearly between her lines, & could see what was in store for him.

In fact, peering up into the interior of the girdle, he saw dark stains over the portions of the lining that had been rubbing tightly against her pussy & her asshole.  He really did not want his head in there - it was dark, smelled awful, & was hot & sweaty from Monica’s womanly secretions. She snugged the middle leg down over his head & neck, anyway, tugging right & left until it lined up perfectly with the nape of his neck. Jon felt Monica pull the zip down smartly, tightening the stiff rubber cuff around his neck, & heard the sharp snap of the padlock. He could only smell her cunt & the rubber as his nose pressed against the interior lining of the crotch & looked up to the narrow waistband of the girdle as his only hope of continued air supply.

"Take a good long look at the view," she ordered, "because that’s the last thing you’ll see".

"You’re not giving me a fighting chance, Monica!" Jon now realized he was struggling for his life. "At least Dawn had a choice to back out of the game, not knowing whether I was playing any longer. Give me a way out, you bitch", he splurted into the heavy, smothering rubber device locked onto his head & neck.

"Sure, how about if I unlock your handcuffs, wiseguy?" Monica then unzipped the front zipper of the girdle, & the next thing Jon saw was the lug sole of her boot coming through the waistband down alongside his head.

"Hey, what do you think you’re doing?" he protested.

Immediately, the other bootsole scraped along his other cheek, & she pulled the long legs of the garment smoothly upwards. Jon was being drawn higher & higher, all the while glimpsing only a sliver of light over the crack of her ass. Now, as she spread her asscheeks, all he could see was the dark crescent of skin between her pussy & the waiting star of her anus, & then his sense of sight was gone. Before he knew, her crack was right over his nose, her round cheeks engulfing his face.

She gave one last forceful tug, slid into the form-fitting girdle, & an airless, dark space between her cheeks became his whole world. His nose & mouth were tightly pressed against her bunghole, which overwhelmed his sense of smell & was now his only air supply. He could just barely hear Monica’s angry words: "Now I’m going to make you SUFFER, just like Dawn did, struggling for every breath until you breathe no more."

She lowered her voice & slowly exhaled the word "suffer", with an evil smirk. "I’m doing this for Dawn, because she can no longer get revenge from her grave. Start eating me, sucker! Think of your predicament as "the crack of Dawn".

With that, Monica forcefully zipped the girdle’s waistband closed. Jon could feel the stiff rubber of the ass of the girdle stretch tightly over the back of his head, & he heard the 'snick' of the 2nd padlock. Her asscheeks were now pressed firmly over his ears, & his sense of hearing was eliminated, as well. As Monica bent forward, & Jon’s nose & mouth were forced up into Monica’s bottom, he had forgotten about her promise. He cursed her silently for flexing at the hips & forcing his face & head more & more tightly against her asshole, but as she bent over, she unlocked his handcuffs, giving him a panicky, airless moment of hope for escape.

Every attempt to inhale, however, sucked Jon’s face deeper into her crack. He began to feel faint, & pounded on her cheeks, slapping the smooth, tight rubber to no avail. He tried pulling his head backward, but the secure zipper & padlock wouldn’t budge, or be pulled off with all his might. As she stood, her muscular cheeks compressed his face & head even more, & he tried reaching up the back of her thighs, but the thick rubber cuffs of the legs of the girdle just wouldn’t give enough.

The waistband was even tighter, thicker, & pawing frantically at the zipper & padlock with his arms above his head was wearing him out. He thought of his last hope, the key in her boot, but this was out of his reach as she easily resisted his feeble attempt to get the tight, clingy rain boot off her foot.

Finally, with all the force he had left, he tried to appease the she-devil with his tongue. He felt the firm grasp of her anal muscle over the middle of his tongue, the horrific taste of her innards filled him with doom & dread. He could no longer taste even this, her repulsive waste. With one last gasp, sucking his face forcefully into her bottom, he as well lost his sense of touch as all went numb & limp. 

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13.08.14