Gromet's PlazaLatex Stories

Turmoil 15: Spinning Yarns

by Ludwig

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© Copyright 2011 - Ludwig - Used by permission

Storycodes: FF/f; FF; latex; bagged; inflate; susp; vacbed; toys; insert; electro; mast; oral; climax; cons; X

continued from part 7

Part Eight

Chapter 15: Spinning Yarns

She blinked twice to get rid of the stinging dryness in her eyes. The warming light from the fireplace and the gentle but pervasive heat made her drowsy, but it was hard not to look at the smouldering embers. It might have been one of those rare Zen moments, if she only had been able to clear her head. Now, random sounds, images and sensations kept bouncing smoothly in her mind. The weekend down south seemed so far away now, so very unreal, but yet so close that she could actually taste every single thing as if it happened a single breath ago. She smiled, wetting her lips furtively with her tongue, enjoying the salty flavour that still remained after lunch. That, too, had been something to remember. Alex had obviously decided to feed her up on top of all the pampering before she left, and André had given her certain ideas about cooking that would soon begin to show around the waist on both of them.

A little chuckle escaped her. She remembered having read a very strange story in a graphic novel when she was in her late teens. Tim had bought it in Belgium, and she gave it a try since she wanted to see how good her French was. There was this romantic, noble medieval fellow who stared too deep into the fire and somehow was caught in time, and his daydreams transformed into different realities in which the stories took place. She had been a bit disappointed since the stories merged and just went on and on, and soon enough she’d lost interest in how it all really would end, if it ever was meant to. Here, now, she understood perfectly how one could lose oneself totally just by looking deeply into a fire. The strange thing, however, was that the cottage, the armchair, the blanket and the overwhelming serenity with a slight aftertaste of pasties were parts of her daydream. Simply because it felt like sleeping. Waiting. The different reality they had left behind was hiding in the slowly rising sparks behind the grate. Not really here, but never far away if she only looked close enough.


“You up already?” Alex voice rumbled from under her pillow. The floorboards creaked like a barge in rough weather, and Niamh hadn’t exactly bothered trying to sneak like a ninja since it was nearly freezing cold on the floor. Her little morning jog to the window proved to be an effective wake-up call.

“Yeah. The sun’s out. Amazing.”


Niamh stretched and groaned when her body tried to get the message through to her.

“Shit, I’m not at all sure about today.”

“Friday night you were knackered,” Alex chuckled, surfacing slowly, “and now- half past seven the very last morning- you tell me the bunny has run out of batteries.”

“I’m not up for anything hardcore today, that’s all I say. You’ve hardly been wearing yourself out, have you?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t enjoyed yourself, Grumpy. Besides, I’m not really as bouncy as I was when I was thirty. You’ll have to understand I tire quite easily, and it breaks my heart to have to leave this lovely resort with its heavenly cuisine behind. That’s really wearing me down so badly I think I’ll stay between the sheets until you bring me a little something to... you know. Cup of tea would be nice, thank you.”

“Find the other sock and I’ll serve it to you naked and shackled.”

“Tempting as that may sound; I think I’ll stick to a teaspoon of honey.” Alex expertly threw the missing sock right in Niamh’s face. “If you forget the milk, though...”


A mass of hair crowning an oversized pyjama top greeted Niamh with a massive sneeze as she entered the kitchen.

“Steady now. You’ll spook the cows.”

“Aargh. I hate having to go this early in the morning.” Theresa landed clumsily on a chair beside the cooker. Niamh noticed that she sported the same kind of thick, woolly socks but not much else apart from the huge, striped top. “Once your arse leaves the seat you have to go again because of this fucking chill. No use getting back to bed.”

Theresa lifted the lid of a couple of jars and looked inside them, turned them upside down with a determined expression on her face, and put them down again with a sigh.

“Ironic, innit?”

“What is?”

“André is trying to help me quit smoking by getting rid of all me fags. Hah.” Theresa half-sneezed again. “No, that wasn’t even fun with half the brains on sick leave. Sorry. Fancy some sort of dubious-tasting coffee, Niv? I was about to try to start that bleeding machine.”

“Cheers, but Alex wants a cup of tea, probably within a minute or two.”

“She probably won’t be expecting you to give her sweet lovin’ as well, so I’ll fix us something barely drinkable until you get back. Be a dear and bring a blanket, won’t you?”

Shuffling along the hall, Niamh smiled to herself when she thought of the three of them together this morning. Hardly an erotic sight unless you were into seemingly jetlagged and bedfuzzed women with puffy faces and, oh yes, there it was- monstrous dogbreath. She made a note to herself to borrow some mouthwash later, and try to avoid any morning kisses.

The latter was hardly any problem since the mug of tea disappeared under the duvet with an approving grunt and a distinct slurping sound as soon as she had entered the room, so Niamh snatched a blanket and headed back downstairs where Theresa already was busying herself with trying as many functions on André’s rocket-scientist coffee machine as she could. Niamh couldn’t help but thinking of experiments threatening to go horribly wrong when she saw what was happening in the kitchen, but the aroma promised great success nevertheless.

“Buns, buns, buns...” Theresa chanted, looking around the kitchen a little distractedly.

“Blanket as per your request. Can I help?”  

“Find buns, heat buns.”

“You’ll spoil your appetite.” Niamh griped in a mocking tone, tossing the blanket for Theresa to catch.

“Hardly bloody likely.”

Once they had huddled up at the table their conversation grew more muted, and Niamh instantly got the strange feeling of a slumber party slowly turning intimate. The coffee wasn’t too bad, and it seemed to straighten her neurons out in quite a satisfying way. Theresa seemed to need a larger dose of it to get properly started.

“Can’t believe you’re going back home today.” She mumbled over the brim. “This place is going to feel really empty, y’know.”

“It’s been...”

“Out of this fucking world, I know.”

“I don’t see how we could keep going much further without medical assistance.”

“That’s just lack of imagination, love.” Theresa sighed. “But I reckon we’ve got to let go of it. Wouldn’t be as much fun otherwise, now would it?”

“Fun, eh? You almost had me with that ‘danger,danger’-shit before we got started, didn’t you.”

“Well, you were a fast learner. I’m... let’s say I’m impressed.”

“Thanks. Likewise.” But Andy would rather say ‘infatuated’. “I’d really- and you’ll hear this more than once today, and not only from me- really like to do something like this again.”

“Don’t let her keep you.” Theresa winked. “Bring her, let her decide if you want to...”

“Come on.”

“Just don’t let her loose on me if we meet at her place. I’m not sure I want to find out about the secrets of that house that much...”

“Well,” Niamh cleared her throat, “we have the Pink Room where you might get strapped down to watch horrid cartoons for 36 hours straight...”

“Ugh. Japanese?”  

“Finnish amateur animations... while being force fed cold Bovril and Carr’s water crackers.”

“Why pink? No, I don’t really want to know. Pass the butter, will you.”


A good few hours later, with breakfast and the tedious process of helping themselves back to a vaguely human state of being over with, Niamh stayed downstairs talking to André while Alex tidied up a bit and started packing. It was no use getting in her way. There really seemed to be a reason to believe that she would definitely miss their stay judging from her sullen face, and Niamh knew better than trying to cheer her up. Theresa had laughed when they sat around the breakfast table, calling them- and herself- ‘the unsexiest coven since someone last spoiled Macbeth on an amateur stage’. Only a trained eye could spot the tiny furrow between Alex’ eyes, and Niamh knew that cracking more jokes right there and then even if they were really innocent was not such a good idea.

“Oh, don’t you worry.” André said, fishing out a crumpled pack of Benson & Hedges from behind a hideous porcelain cow figure. “You of all people should know she has these sensitive streaks.”

“Mood swings.”

“You know, when I was a kid I never wanted to go to the circus. The boys in the neighbourhood always got hold of free tickets, and my uncle used to travel with one of the best in Western Europe... but I only went there once or twice.”

Niamh watched him in silence as he disposed of the crushed cigarettes, waiting for him to continue. Yet again, within a few seconds her patience ran out as expected.

“All right, why?” she groaned. “Allergic to sawdust? Coulrophobia?”

“Oh, no.” André grinned, thoughtfully glancing at Niamh. “You really surprise me with your...”

“Wordability? Tonguetwistedness?”

“No offense, Nini, I ought to know you better than that- point taken, and no. No, it wasn’t any fear of clowns, elephants or anything like that. Oh, I loved the animals. I loved it all.”

“Then what was it?”

“Just when I felt I grew into the show happening before me, the final curtains fell. The show ended much too soon for me, and I was so sad. After a few times I told myself it was better not to get disappointed by going there at all. C’est ça.”

“Poor you.” Niamh sighed. “But if you think that Ladyship suffers from that kind of melancholy, I might as well tell you that she is very keen on reminiscing by re-enacting. Let me give you a ring in a month or so and give a detailed bruise report.”

 She flexed her fingers and ran them through her hair. A familiar feeling of expectation was slowly building up within her along with a tinge of anxiety making her skin prickle.

“Speaking of which... I’m a bit curious about today’s events, Andy. You wouldn’t happen to know what the plans might look like, would you?”

“Since you seem to like metaphors, I’d like to describe it as more or less improvised theatre. Ad lib. I think Theresa wants to show you our work... and hers, especially. The fun stuff, not the oh-so-naughty.”

“Thanks for putting my mind at rest. I think.” Niamh pulled the hem of her chunky sweater. “And since you seem to be at home with having us clowning about here, I’d like to...”

Now, it was André’s turn to act impassive during a fleeting moment of silence. A neatly folded piece of paper tissue ended up in the waste bin with a flick of his fingers.


“Oh, nothing.” A loose thread hanging from a seam suddenly attracted a lot of her attention. “Just thought it’d be such a pity if I left without inviting that little poor boy to Blackpool next spring, to watch a really good circus show. For kids, that is. Nothing nouveau about it. No animals either, so I guess you’ll have to dress me and Terry up as sea lions if you want any of those. We know a few tricks, and we don’t eat a lot of fish either. The best thing is that we’re still there to entertain you when the show’s over.”

A grey cloud erupted from the field behind the house when a flock of rooks took wing at the sound of the hearty laughter.


Distractedly fingering the suit Alex had laid out for her to wear, Niamh sighed and tried to find a quick solution to the little problem she was having with the thought of wearing it. They were probably not going to get sweaty in a snug and warm place in a hurry judging from what André had said, and the thing slipping between her fingers didn’t seem like such a wise choice. It felt quite all right, even if Niamh never had tried it on. 

It was one of Alex’ transparent numbers, a two-piece catsuit that had been around for a while. The collar showed signs of repair. The sleeves and legs were a bit looser and puffier than the piece around the torso, which seemed too tight even for Niamh. Even if she could live with wearing something that didn’t really fit all that nicely, it was one thing that really put her off apart from that it seemed too flimsy, and that was the little spicy feature at chest height. There were two apertures where her breasts were supposed to go, leaving them bare and fully exposed. Not only was she a little less inspired of the thought of her knockers hanging out in the cold, but also the discovery of the reinforced holes being most certainly a few inches too small for her.

Instead of doing everything the hard way by asking Alex what the hell she was thinking, Niamh sneaked away to where she knew Theresa was preparing herself and her little presentation. Surely, there had to be a way to make everyone happy.

“Niv!” Theresa hissed as Niamh popped her head through the door. “I’m not indecent enough yet! What would people think?”

A quick look at what was happening in the little hiding place seemed to confirm what André had already said. Theresa, wearing an unflattering but warm dressing gown, held a hanger in her right hand with what appeared to be her choice of outfit. It was a quite tasty-looking variation on her Japanese kimono theme: loose-fitting long trousers and a generous, very stylish jacket in a silky metallic pewter tone. Nothing tight and raunchy with zips for quickest possible access.

“That you were eager to get back into your jammies before lunchtime. Look, I think I need your help with a... misunderstanding, I think.”

“Get in here and close that door. There’s a draught from somewhere, and I think I’m about to catch a cold.” Theresa shuddered, spinning the hanger gently before Niamh. “What do you think about this, then?”

“Classy. Now, have a look at this.”

Niamh held up, almost a bit accusingly, the suit in front of her with her hands sticking out of the breast apertures. Theresa stifled a gurgling laughter.

“I... Oh, sorry.” She coughed. “I think I can see what your little problem is. Are you sure that she has picked that one on purpose? I mean, it looks like she hasn’t.”

“I’m not going to question anything right now. Somehow we’ve got to deal with it, and it doesn’t matter how as long as I won’t have to freeze and look like a complete arse.”

“I like your arse.”

“So do I. So much, in fact, I’d like to keep it a bit warm sometimes.”

“I like your funbags as well. Are you sure you want to cover them up?”

“Terry. Help. I’ll let you play with them if we get permission from the authorities, but please help me sort this out now. I’ll owe you one.”

“That makes you entitled to access my private domains.” Theresa giggled. “Wardrobe-wise; for now. I think we’ll find just the right stuff for you in a minute. Please sit.”

“Er...” Niamh began, raising a finger. “Oh, never mind. Cheers. Do your stuff.”

She was relieved to see Theresa stay on the right side of the fence this time around. Instead of conjuring up something barely wearable but definitely spacey, she produced a nicely cut black bra made out of slightly thicker rubber and something that looked fairly innocent neatly folded in a bundle.

“This’ll hold your puppies in place.” Theresa twittered, tossing the bra in Niamh’s lap.

“What’s that?” Niamh asked and reached for the dark bundle, but Theresa unfolded the garments quickly and held them up before her.

“Jogging suit. Quite popular. Your neighbours would have to look twice if you strutted round the garden wearin’ this. Doesn’t look too shabby, yeah?”

Niamh watched her pose with the large jacket and trousers. She liked the silky sheen of the midnight blue surface, and the whole thing looked seriously comfy.

“Looks neat. White go-faster-stripes on the side and all.”

“Yeah.” Theresa breathed. “You’ll look great in it, I’m sure. Let’s try to get you into that ‘orrible camel condom first, shall we? This’ll slip on like nothing and cover all interesting nooks and crannies.”

“I guess I’ll have to grin and bear it. Don’t pretend it’s hard work getting me into this damn thing.” Niamh flapped the transparent suit like a rag. “Don’t get any weird ideas. I’m not quite in the mood just yet.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having naughty thoughts, can you?”


Not surprisingly, the old suit put up some strong resistance before Theresa was able to pull up the back zip. The legs and arms proved to be a few inches too long for Niamh, and it made her look like she was wearing a pair of strange-looking waders since the suit folded in a quite unflattering way around her waist. At least it was easy to pull on that far. The problem was, just as she had suspected, that the top piece was badly proportioned and far too tight. Luckily, it was easier than she had thought to get her breasts through the front apertures. The bra helped a lot, and Niamh really liked the feel of it.

A quick look in a mirror hanging on the wall nearly put her off further adventures.

“That’s it. I look like a fucking kolbasz.” She said, running her hands along her sides. “You’re right. It’s probably a mistake, this. If it isn’t, well, I don’t know what to think.”

“Don’t bother.” Theresa looked over her shoulder, unzipping the jogging suit jacket. Niamh could discern a certain glint of mischief in her eyes. “It’s on if she wants it on you, which I seriously effing doubt, but no one’s going to notice it underneath... this.”

Niamh shivered slightly at the cool touch of the smooth but surprisingly heavy jacket. As she zipped it up, she gratefully noticed that it was indeed very comfy and probably would keep her from getting too cold. Theresa helped her get the trousers up over her ankles and knees since they kept clinging to the creasy legs of the sticky suit underneath, which obviously hadn’t been polished or wash-dipped for ages. This gave her an opportunity to let her fingers linger a bit longer than necessary here and there, but Niamh let her have her way. It was nothing to worry about, and besides, her problem was solved.

“We got ourselves a proper B-girl here, sister.” Theresa cheered as she pulled the drawstring tight and gave Niamh an encouraging slap on her bum. “I knew I should have asked you to model for me.”

“Bollocks. But thank you so much for saving my day, though. Bit of a bother to have to guess what’s on her mind at times, know what I mean?”

“You’re one of the few I know of who actually can handle the old missus, love. I think you needed an excuse for coming in here to tease me.” 

“Did not.” Niamh snorted, pulling the trouser legs loose from the suit at her knees. “Honestly, this is what I needed. And I’m well impressed with how you got the bra to fit better than most of the, well, ordinary ones I have.”

“Hard work. Had to squeeze a lot of bubbies to get the right feel... It’s more than a handful, I can tell. Oh, wait. You’ll need something on your feet as well. Hang in there, apple bum.”

Niamh rolled her eyes, just letting it pass. Instead, she enjoyed a bit of preening in front of the mirror. The dark blue rubber made her face look a bit pale in the bright light, but the suit itself was not bad at all. This was the sort of thing Alex liked to wear when she just felt like pottering around the house, and it was certainly wearable for hours on end. Niamh tested the surface, pinching and stroking it with her fingers. It felt very delicate despite its relative thickness, and the smell was absolutely right. Compared to the suit underneath, it was like spicy perfume.

She knew that the sweeter, toffee and liquorice-like scent had a tendency to stick to her skin much longer than the sharper, oily odour of some of the heavier gear she had tried. It wasn’t as easy to wash away in the shower, and days afterwards she could get a little rush if she started sweating and the aroma hit her nostrils again. Much better than a piece of Madeleine cake to jog her memory.

Niamh played with the thought that it could actually work as a means of communication as well. It had certainly surprised Alex when she tried to go stealth under plain clothes to find that a little whiff of her second skin set off a catering girl and her companion, and Niamh wondered what that demure librarian from Stalybridge really did on her time off. The last time she had returned a few books that little familiar something had come swirling through the air as the mousy girl had brushed by her. She must have sensed that she had been spotted somehow, but she had a great poker face, Niamh thought. Very interesting. Not much sense in having to sniff each other to find out if there was any mutual interest in not-quite-the-vanilla stuff, though. Or was it? Certainly more social than just a silly ring or a handshake. Ask any dog.

Her bare feet started to feel a bit chilly. The carpet didn’t offer much insulation, and she hoped Theresa wouldn’t overdo her shoe search. Anything that kept her toes happy would be fine, now when the rest was sorted. She sniffed the sleeve again. Oh, yes. This would work out all right.


All I Want for Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth echoed through the passageway between the old workshop and the makeshift, only recently furnished new showroom. It would have been strange enough without Alex’ attempts to remember any of the words except from the chorus, which resulted in a brutal, hummed rendition that was occasionally painfully off-key. Now, both Theresa and Niamh considered returning to safe quarters even before they had set foot near where they were supposed to be having a bit of last-chance fun.

A strained mechanical noise grew louder as they approached, and they carefully peered through the doorway into the brightly lit room. Alex’ eyes met theirs from a point slightly below waist height, and they were greeted with a cheerful ‘hello!’ and a lot of violent gesturing. The girls quickly realised why she had felt the need to express herself vocally, even if they would never dare to ask why she chose that particular tune. Alex had found a toy she could sit on.

“This is quite fun!” she laughed over the din, pointing at the barely visible saddle-like black vinyl contraption she was smothering between her thighs. Her whole abdomen seemed to move in a slight blur. “Much better than those slimming belt-thingies.”

“Please turn it off!” Niamh said, waving her hands. “You’re not supposed to break it before you buy it.”

Alex quickly flipped a switch on a wireless control box in her hand and got to her feet in a single, lithe movement. There was a contented little smirk on her face. Niamh noticed that she didn’t wear much make up, which actually suited her outfit better than anything outré. The thin, smoky black cape that covered her from neck to waist was quite familiar, but what caught Niamh’s eye was the scarlet gloss of the suit underneath it. Alex’ arms and legs appeared to be dipped in bright red lacquer, and the tight fit suggested every single insidious curve only half concealed by the cape draped loosely around her. God. Even the shoes seemed to be a fixed addition to her already ridiculously long legs. Today, Niamh thought, she was going to play it... tall, as it was. And there’s the quick glance to let me know she’s spotted me gawking. A-aall right.

“This buzzbox is called a Sybian, isn’t that right, Terry?” Alex said without taking her eyes off Niamh. “I think I’ve seen some of them somewhere.”

“It’s a...” Theresa hesitated, “Let’s call it an unlicensed version. Home-made.”

“Another one? Not one of André’s little machines, I believe.”

“Oh no. That one’s my project. Lacks a bit discretion yet, but not power.”

“Sounds like a diesel version to me, it does.” Niamh added, prodding it with her foot. She noticed how Alex tried not to giggle, but thought it was as much her footwear as any silly comment. Theresa had equipped her with a pair of dark grey ankle-height wellies with a cute flower print. “I think you should make sort of a rocking horse out of it.”

“Way ahead of you.” Theresa laughed. “You’ll see what I mean later. Ready for the grand tour?”

They began in the far end of the oblong room where an old door had been sealed shut. The place was a whole lot bigger than it looked from the outside. In a few odd places on the wall the thick plaster had fallen off, and Niamh discovered that the barn wasn’t exactly what one would call a red-brick building. The stones she could see were not of the small kind, and there wasn’t any mortar joining them together. It looked like a great troll puzzle. The whole place was literally packed with all sorts of goods; most of it carefully packed and hidden, but not all of it. Theresa had been a diligent girl and put together a little exhibition, and she seemed really eager to play guide for a while. The trouble with being ingenious around a certain madam was that she took advantage of any given situation like an SAS veteran, Niamh thought to herself. Who was already in place when they got down here? She didn’t believe that silly set-up with the rotary cultivator ‘buzzbox’ for a minute. It was such an obvious red herring.     

Niamh wondered how long it would take before Alex would sidetrack Theresa and get her into a real quandary again. There was no doubt that it quickly would become quite an interesting tour.


A pair of half-closed eyes glinted in the blue light from the laptop screen. André had someone looking over his shoulder from an ideal vantage point in a bookshelf, to see what he was up to since he had ceased to be an entertaining companion and just sat there like a piece of furniture. It was much more fun to help him chase the mop round the floor, even if it didn’t taste very good, but the moving colours in the tiny window was at least some sort of diversion.

“Someone has to do a bit of work around here, you know.” André added in response to the I’m-utterly-bored meow from behind his back. “Otherwise, people will think: ‘Oh, they never bother about their site, and there’s hardly ever anything new, so’...”

The answer was the sound of four carved figurines from Gabon hitting the carpet in a rapid succession, as if a tail had noiselessly swept them down. Anyone could press those keys, anytime. She had tried it herself and found out that it was completely pointless. A good chase, a warm hand or- even better- something to eat seemed much more important right now than some silly pastime. André was about to turn around when he caught sight of a note pinned to the ridiculous miniature world globe of the Italian hardwood pen set. The all-too-familiar handwriting made him wince as he unfolded the piece of paper.

 “Mais c’est chiant! Does she ever know when to stop?”


“Oh, that looks interesting! Terry, what’s that?”

Alex managed to throw a spanner in the works of Theresa’s promising new career as a smiling tour guide after only a few minutes. Niamh had almost lost herself in all the wonderful garments, accessories and nice little toys that were put on display for them, while Alex seemed a tad more aloof but still politely smiling and nodding. Now, she was pointing at a drab rubber bundle riddled with talc with badly concealed enthusiasm. Theresa looked questioningly at it.

“Dunno...” she said, instantly dropping her professional voice. “It does look like one of those suits, but I’ve no clue why it’s down here...”

“Let’s see what it is, then.” Alex demanded, turning the bundle over. “Would you like to show us?”

Again, Niamh rolled her eyes. She’s getting too bloody obvious, and that’s a fact.

Theresa unfolded the heavy, unwieldy suit for them to see. Niamh wondered what would happen next when she realised what kind of gear it was. Like an inner tube, the garment had a little valve stem jutting out from it. What’s a party without balloons, eh?

“It’s an inflatable suit. Double layers. Practically impossible to burst if you don’t go at it with an ice pick or something like that, y’know. Weighs a flippin’ ton.”

“Well, get inside it and let’s see how it works.”

“What, here?” Theresa frowned. “Nah. We’ve no air...We can’t...”

“Strip down. Limber up. Slip into it. Don’t worry about the rest. Do it.”

Alex smiled and adjusted her gloves a little absent-mindedly, but Theresa knew better than stalling or plainly refusing to go along with whatever was happening now. She was already shedding her pyjamas. Niamh helped her getting into the cumbersome garment, and noticed with a bit of relief that the temperature in the room was quite agreeable after all. The goosebumps on Terry’s skin seemed to have something to do with the tall figure towering in front of her, who was picking impatiently at a few buttons securing the cape around her chest. And here we are again...

It was a bit of a struggle to get Theresa’s hands and feet through the rigid cuffs, and the zip had to get more than a little encouragement to slide up, but she was ready within a few minutes. It seemed to please an increasingly impatient Alex, who hummed contentedly.

“Sweetie, I think you can find the compressor round the corner over there. Would you be so kind..?”

Theresa looked terribly puzzled when Niamh returned, pulling a boxy red machine on wheels after her. It was a bit tricky to steer, and Niamh tried the best she could not to bump into anything expensive.

“Where did you get that one? That’s not necessary. Where’s the pump?”

“It began playing up. Blew a few fuses, so I improvised.” Alex breathed, giving them an unsavoury smile. “Won’t that one do, you think?”

“It’s a breathing air compressor, “ Theresa sighed, “only on loan, so please be careful with it. It’s quite useful to have around, y’know, when you’re expecting guests and such...”

“Oh, I see. Ha. Well, I promise we won’t blow it up. Speaking of which...” Alex paused. A playful tweak at the valve followed by a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth revealed that she was getting in the mood for real. “You’ll have to say when, dear. I’m not entirely sure Niamh will be able to keep from turning you into a sphere, and I believe this thing works pretty fast. Right?”

Theresa had a slightly tortured look on her face when Niamh started fiddling with the additional and not entirely purposeful hose connected to the compressor, but as soon as they got the machine going, she gradually lightened up as cool air rapidly filled the thick suit. It soon became obvious that the compressor had a bit too much additional capacity, and Niamh had a hard time portioning the air into the valve with a nozzle that wasn’t really her friend. Within a few moments, Theresa had turned into something almost too big to fit in the narrow aisle, and Niamh aimed a kick at the emergency switch as she quickly closed the valve. She swore a bit under her breath, wishing that any ideas of this kind requiring basic engineering skills should best be left to the ones able to handle them. She had a feeling André wasn’t too happy about this.

Alex seemed very pleased, though, and so did Theresa. It was as if the suit felt better to wear once it was inflated, but Niamh wondered how they would be able to shift Terry in her current balloony state. She wasn’t going to roll her around the whole bloody shop, that was for sure.

“God, I’m going to capsize in this!” Theresa squeaked, making a futile attempt to move her arms. “Hello! Oh, I had completely forgotten how batty your limbs felt in this thing.”

Niamh ran her hands over the still slightly dusty surface of the suit bulging over Theresa’s backside. The springy sensation felt familiar and quite amusing, but the smell was more like that of a tyre storage. She thought it would be a good idea to stay a bit close to Theresa lest she really should keel over. Plus, she added a little guiltily to herself, it was fun to both touch and watch her.

“If you can manage to get as far as over... here, was it...” Alex said, backing up while pointing along a narrow passage between two shelves sagging under the mass of what seemed to be pieces of small furniture. “...I think we’ll be able to squeeze you through.”

Theresa wobbled slightly as she tried to turn around, but didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that she took up a lot more space with considerably less control of her motions. Niamh tried to avoid getting in the way, nearly tripping over the compressor.

“Why go in there?” Theresa queried, waddling carefully toward Alex who stood with her arms out as if to prevent a little accident if any brakes should fail. “There’s nothing back there worth looking at, if you ask me.”

“Well, we didn’t,” Alex grinned, “and suddenly there is.”


 He noticed that he had left the telephone behind when the signal echoed through the rooms, but the callers would have to wait a while longer. It wasn’t hard to figure out where a certain madam had been nosing about, and what she had been looking for. People often underestimated someone with a slight sense of detail, André thought. They most certainly did not have to leave any sort of note to tell what they had been after. Even if this part of the loft seemed a tad turned upside-down already, he had quite a good grasp of what had been touched. Well, what was he supposed to do about it anyway?

André shrugged with a faint smile and turned on his heels, heading downstairs to get back to business. If things were proceeding the way he imagined, he would get his share of the fun soon enough. There was also a possibility that he could get back at her somehow, and he would certainly not miss his chance.

“Encore comme les gamins, gran’ soeur!”


After some negotiation, Theresa was able to jiggle through the narrow passageway into the little lair Alex had set up. Niamh was tiptoeing right behind her, and she peered over her shoulder to find out what had been going on in there. This was, as far as she could see, the place where they kept the weird furniture. She wondered if Andy tried his skills in this department as well.

What looked like a hospital bed that had received the same stripping-down treatment as the menacing dentist chair stood tipped upright to the left in front of them. Niamh shivered at the sight of the stainless-steel frame and black padded bed board, but couldn’t tell exactly why. She was fairly certain about what the additional features bolted onto the frame were for, though. Better be in good health when you get on board on that thing.

“Wait a minute...” Theresa swayed to a halt. “That one isn’t ours, you know. It was broken when it got here, and I think André was supposed to fix it. We can’t just...”

“Seems fine to me. Nothing wrong with this.”

Alex unbelievably annoying smirk grew larger as she shook the bed vigorously. Even if nothing fell off, it didn’t seem to be such a good idea to play with it as long as it was in a vertical position. The rattling seemed to discourage Alex as well, for a given value of discouragement. She nodded slightly and hummed something inaudible.

“Well, we’re not here to destroy anything- permanently- but let’s be a bit careful anyway. Theresa, dear?”

“I’m not climbing that thing...”

“No, first of all you can’t as it is now, not by yourself. You won’t have to, either. I’ll just lower it so we can get you on top of it without too much fuss.” Alex grunted, turning a wheel on the side of the bed. It slowly tilted, creaking its way back to horizontal position. “Besides, I think it will hold your weight just fine. You’re not exactly obese, dear.”

“Bit bloated, though.”


“Didn’t say you were full of hot air as well, did I?”

“All right,” Alex cut in, “let’s get Terry comfy, shall we? Turn around and get seated; chop-chop. Carefully, mind you. Both of you.”

Once Theresa had slumped down on the bed, bouncing slightly, Alex deftly grabbed her by her feet and tipped her over backwards into what seemed like a less comfortable recumbent position.

“Oi! Woooh.” Theresa croaked. “All right. All right, I’m with you! Give us a minute.”

“Sweetie, would you help me push her into place?”

With a little effort, Theresa was soon safely lying down on the bed. Alex gently placed an odd-looking red jellybean bath pillow under her neck and stood back to admire their work.

“There we go. Now, keep her company while I arrange a few amusing details, won’t you? I’ll be back shortly.” Alex added huskily, adjusting her cape. She pushed a few stray strands of hair out of her eyes and swaggered off. “And do try not to bite each other.”

As she walked away, Niamh let her eyes wander up along the scarlet legs to where the rubber seemed to have merged with the buttocks, and longed for a quiet session of their own. Now, all she could do to amuse herself was to engage in a little dry rafting. It was, she thought as she tried to find foothold on the frame, a bit like mounting a fat horse. A very fat horse.


“Steady as she goes. Try to stay still, will you.”

“We’ll wreck this thing! What the hell are you doing?”

“Watched Andrea Marshall on telly last week, and now I’m all for that marine life saving know what I mean.” Niamh jeered, straddling Theresa a little clumsily. “Seems we got ourselves a beached whale here.”

“Nice. Thanks.”

Barely noticing it herself, Niamh started to wiggle her hips a little. She winced as the zip between her legs cut in, and snuck a hand into her trousers to release it. Before she could reach the little pull-tab, there was a cracking noise and the sharp pinching pain of forced depilation. Theresa giggled when she heard it.

“Didn’t realise I’d give you such a stonkering stiffy. Anything sore or broken?”

“Fuck this thing. Ah, Jesus, that feels better. Ooh, what a bastard...”

“No more cameltoe, then. Get rid of it while she’s away, will you? Think, for once.”

“Think, she says.” Niamh groaned, but realised that it would actually feel much better. “All right, then. She hasn’t mentioned anything about it. Did you notice?”

“Yee-ah, like right from the start, or what would you say? I bet it was all in your head, anyway. You’re lucky to have a face with those brains, love.”

“Shut it.” Niamh quickly slid out of the jacket and tore the zip of the suit open. “It’s not me she’s after, is she? You don’t know what’s coming to you, Teabag.”

Theresa laughed and yelled as Niamh bounced on top of her inflated body, making the whole bed contraption creak and sway as if in a storm while she peeled the loathsome suit off her skin.

“Wait! Wait...”

“What? If you need to go, then good luck to you.”

“Before you get the casuals back on again, give us a peek of those babbies, please.”

“You’ll see very little when I sit on your face telling you to kiss away the pain, Toto...” Niamh grunted, bouncing down on Theresa’s chest. She had to crane her neck to see past the bulging suit. “How is it like down there?”

“A bit hard to breathe, now. Hello, by the way.”

“I kind of like you like this. You’re like a big, soft love doll for fatty fanciers.”

“Not really my sort of thing, this.” Theresa looked away, suddenly turning solemn. “I don’t really know why. Guess I’ve never really thought of it as being, like, you know...”

“Then let me tell you something that make you feel more at home in there,” Niamh put in, spreading herself all over Theresa. The unpolished, powdered rubber felt strangely electric against her skin. “Think pool, water slide and Alex wearing funny flippers...”


When Alex returned carrying a pink vinyl bag, she seemed delighted to find them in such a good mood. Theresa had severe problems with looking her straight in the face without cracking up, but she received a little help by Niamh, who pinched her left pinkie toe through the thick socks each time she was about to lose it.

“What’s in the bag?” Niamh asked circumspectly.

“Flippers and goggles?”

Alex eyed them both as Theresa was forced to shut up by means of a naked foot nudging her face rather hard. She smiled and reached into the bag.

“Noo-o. Only something that might amuse us all for while. It must be tedious to lie there without being able to do anything interesting, wouldn’t you say. I thought so, and decided to bring this little beast with me.”

Niamh recognised the blue plastic handle of what she thought of as a Hitachi wand on steroids; one of the more vicious toys sprung from André Frankenstein’s workshop. She was feeling lucky not to be the guinea pig this time, since Theresa alias Igor appeared to be the victim. There was a muted curse from under her foot up front.

Alex carefully opened up Theresa’s crotch zip, which Niamh had barely noticed, and revealed an orifice wide enough to fit the libido shaker inside it. The large, soft cylindrical head disappeared into the puffy folds, followed by the sturdy handle. Alex aimed quite carefully, and once satisfied with the position she zipped Theresa up and unwound the cord. She stopped suddenly, pointing towards a sad-looking heap of transparent latex on the floor.

“What’s that doing there?”

“Sorry.” Niamh half whispered, looking down. “It just didn’t fit. And I busted the zip.”

“You had that underneath the track suit?” Alex giggled. “Sweetie, you weren’t meant to squeeze yourself into that. André was going to alter it- if there was anything left to alter- and surprise Terry with something a bit nasty. I wondered where it was this morning...”

“I thought you put... I thought you wanted me to wear...”

“Oh, I wouldn’t do such a daft thing. I must say, though, that I really like that leisure combo on you. One of Terry’s, perhaps? Quite flattering. And may I see what’s underneath?”

“Just a bra...” Niamh pulled the zip down and showed Alex. “I like it.”

For a split second, the spark of mischief returned to Alex’ eyes. She nodded her approval and mumbled something inaudible before picking up an extension cord from the floor.

“Now,” she cleared her throat and sidled towards the top end of the bed, “before I plug this- dare I say true and utter bastard- in, I thought I’d let you know that I happened to eavesdrop on your little conversation. You should be glad I didn’t have time to set up anything involving water, dear.” A sharp clacking noise was followed by a series of whirring pulses, and Theresa’s face contorted with intense surprise and agony.

“Oh, for f...”

“Accidents happen quite easily, don’t they, sweetie?” Alex sighed. “Well, we shall leave you alone for a while now. There’s maybe a sandwich waiting for me, and we have something to discuss in private. Just clap your hands if it gets too tough, dear. See you later.”

Niamh counted twenty-three steps before the moaning turned into wails of despair.


In nearly every news report nowadays, there appeared to be more financial than weather broadcasts. Times were again turning grim since the doping the system with free money obviously didn’t work much longer, but strangely enough, people seemed to consume more of their merchandise than ever. Perhaps it was no wonder at all. Perhaps it was a bit like selling dreams. He shrugged at the thought and his own futile attempts to understand the world. Best to keep the fingers crossed and the customers happy.

However, he had time to leave the business behind for a while. It would certainly be long enough for him to upset a few arrangements. Oh, how dull the rest of the week was going to turn out after they had left. Luckily, Jon would surely be famished when he returned. He could certainly do with putting on a few more pounds.


 “Stop. Turn around and let me have a good look at you.”

There was a treacherous purr in Alex’ voice, and the warm, firm hand clutching her elbow was not about to let go easily. Niamh turned slowly in her step, cringing at the sounds coming from a deeply distressed Theresa. 

“Don’t worry about her, you. Look. Down there, right next to your foot.” Alex whispered, pointing towards an extension lead with a foot switch on the floor. “You decide how far we should take her.”

Niamh flicked the switch with her booted toes. Instantly, grateful moaning echoed between the walls. Alex didn’t waste any time, and had already sneaked her fingers in under the suit well under way to examine the bra closer.

“Mmh. Looks tasty. Is it too early to ask for a kiss?”

Niamh had no option but to accept the invitation. Her fingers touched the red gloss enveloping Alex’ imposing figure, and she could feel a glowing warmth through the slick layer. Swiftly, she unbuttoned the cape and attempted to lift it over Alex’ head, but she barely reached and guiding hands took over to make it less awkward. An amused smile surrounded by black and red was all she saw.

“Oh, I love it when your eyes turn like that, schat.” Alex hissed. “You don’t seem very tired to me now. Play with them for me. Only a little.”

The drift back into orchestration mode was virtually seamless, but she had still expected Niamh to think a bit faster. When she hesitated, a scarlet heel pressed the switch on the extension lead and Theresa cursed loudly as the toy knocked her over again. Niamh obediently let her left breast out at once and teased the nipple a little. It didn’t take much persuasion to work, since it was already stiff like a bead and very sensitive. She bit her lip, blushing with growing excitement. Alex seemed happy with that.

“Now, you run along and help her out. I won’t be long. I was hoping for a little tète-a-tète, but let’s see how she gets along with her little troubles first, right?”

Niamh rounded the corner as fast as her cute wellies allowed, and she was just in time to stop Theresa from rolling down on the floor and possibly hurting herself pretty badly. She was flailing her limbs as well as she could, and it only served to rock the bed to near tipping point. Her growling made Niamh think of a badger.

“Easy now! I’ll help you.” she yelled and pulled the plug out. The whirring, flailing and moaning stopped dead. What remained was a wobbling Theresa badly fighting for breath. Niamh tried to fish the wand out of the designated orifice, but somehow it had got wedged and wouldn’t come loose. The yanking and bending only made things worse.

“Oh, shit. Shit, shit, shit!” Theresa panted. “Please, please help me come. I’m going off my head here. Help!”

“You want this thing on again? It didn’t sound like it a minute ago, Terry.” Niamh gave the handle a swift slap, and was ready to plug the thing in and leave when she froze. “Oh, hang on. I’ve got it.”


The toy began buzzing again, but this time in a much more lenient tone. Theresa responded immediately by going limp, gurgling happily. Niamh played a little with the handle, stirring it around while moving to the other end of the bed.

“Got it set on low now. Hardly noticed the bloody controls on the side.”

“Oh, thank you. Thank you. Can we please let some air out... of the suit?”

“Feeling crushed? At your service.”

A curious whistling sound and the distinct smell of tyre workshop filled the air around them as Theresa rapidly shrank before her eyes. Niamh enjoyed herself. This was more fun fun than sexy, but she grasped the idea of fiddling about with inflatables. She was still up for trying it herself, but this was not the place for it.

“Ahh. Enough, thanks.” Theresa breathed, finally able to sit up. The suit was still quite full of air, but much less restricting. She didn’t get further than barely upright before the toy made its presence felt for real again. Niamh watched her face go blank and listened, not entirely unaffected, to the interesting noises she started making.

“Are you going to come?”


“Just lean back. I’ll help you.”

Niamh gripped the handle firmly and eased the power up carefully. She wondered if she would regret those words as Theresa turned her head and sucked half her right ear in between sharp teeth, breathing hot air straight into it. And here comes her tongue...


A few minutes later, everything was nearly eerily still in the small space between the wire netting divider and the shelves with weird things on them. They both looked knowingly at each other, Theresa slumped on what appeared to be a divan under a dust cover, and Niamh casually leaning against the bed. It still felt warm under her, and the vinyl cover made little stretchy noises as it crept back into place.

“Well, glad to be of service.” Niamh simpered. “That was a savage ‘un.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Want an encore? I’ll have to keep bits of my face away from you, though.”

“I’m good.”

Theresa looked like the spitting image of an inverted Pillsbury Doughboy, Niamh thought. Mostly black, nearly wasted but still relatively puffy and, well, equipped with interesting girly parts. She glanced at the toy lying tossed next to the bed. It surely was good for knocking someone out in more than one way.


“Yes, Toto? Is there an itch somewhere needed to be scratched?”

“As a matter of fact...” Theresa pivoted herself to her feet, swaying gently. The suit bulged in a quite humorous way. “I’m game for a little retaliation right about now, and I think I have an idea how to work things right...”   

“Can’t say I blame you...” Niamh massaged her sore ear, smiling faintly.  

“Well, then.” As if propelled by another crazed notion, Theresa quickly waddled off into the dark corners talking under her breath. “I think the frame will fit, but it’ll probably work anyway. It’s in here somewhere... Oh, there’s the bottom half, I think. Give us a hand, love.”

“Thought I already did,” Niamh moaned, “and it nearly cost me a cheek. What are you doing in there?”

Within a few confused moments, it all became somewhat clearer what Theresa had in mind for dear Ma’am. One half of an aluminium frame surrounding a thick sheet of transparent rubber ended up on top of the bed, and the other half was half hidden out of sight behind it. It looked quite the same, but had a couple of interesting apertures. Niamh liked the idea, but this particular kind of vacbed was something new for her. It seemed to work more like a sandwich. Speaking of which...

“Here’s the bleedin’ pump!” Theresa barked. “And it’s set on 110 volts. No wonder she muffed it up and invoked darkness...”

“And despair, as it were. Quit firthling with that now, I hear her coming.”

“You know what to do? I’m out of sight, then.”

Theresa had barely time to disappear into the back before Alex peered round the corner with a strangely expectant look on her face. Niamh noticed that she hadn’t put the cape back on, so she must have stayed indoors. Perhaps she had strutted off to bother poor André after visiting the kitchen and the bathroom. There was a thought behind that as well, she thought. Give the girls time and they will slip up. Right. Well, not this time either. Just a little. Quite innocent, really.

“Has she left us?” Alex queried carefully, sashaying languidly towards Niamh. The light pouring in from behind her bounced off her suit. Somewhere along the way it had received a little extra buffing, and it had the desired effect. It was impossible to get used to the feeling of knees going weak, Niamh thought.

“Yeah,” she murmured. ”I mean, she was well finished after that bout.”

“What’s that?” Alex halted, pointing towards the frame with ill-concealed interest. “Is it one of those vacuum framy-thingies I saw the other day? Is that for you?”

“No. I’d really like to have you in it... if you want to.” Niamh tried. “We haven’t done a thing like this before, and I’m...”

“All right.” A gloved hand brushed her neck, and suddenly there was a little nip in the air. “But only if you know how this... envelope works, sweetie. Do you?”

“No worries. It’s really easy, and you won’t be in any trouble nohow. Look...”

 Niamh demonstrated the features of the top half of the vacbed. It had a dry suit collar for putting the head through, which seemed to be a vital security detail for Alex, who nodded and tapped her lips with a finger. The second opening further south was clamped shut and would probably better stay shut for the moment to avoid unnecessary suspicion, Niamh thought. The frame was very light and was easily put in place on top of the other half. Even the locking devices only required a couple of fingertips to snap into place.

“Good!” Alex clapped her hands. “Seems fun to me. I’ll simply hop in, then?”

Tiny beads of sweat formed on Niamh’s forehead when she strained her arms to widen the collar enough for Alex to get her head through without making too much of a mess of her hair. The rest was easy, and Alex smiled with her eyes closed like someone expecting a nice spa treatment when the two halves locked into place and were sealed shut.

“This won’t hurt, will it, sweetie?”

“Nah. I shouldn’t worry about that. Just relax.” Niamh muttered, reaching for the pump switch. Hurt? Says the one who zapped the shite out of us? It went to work with a fairly quiet whirring noise, but there was a slight smell of ozone telling Niamh that the experiments with it had been quite tough. Maybe it was supposed to work as an inflating pump as well, even if it didn’t seem likely.

It was quite amazing to watch the layer of transparent rubber gradually tighten around Alex’ curves without the ear-deafening din of a hoover or the whistling of leaking tubes, Niamh thought. This was a cool invention. The lady in question didn’t complain, either. The telltale little tongue tip became visible the very same moment the pump began running on empty, and her moaning sounds felt like fine whisky slowly trickling through Niamh. Tiny, warm bubbles burst in her bloodstream, making her giddy with excitement.

Once the two layers were glued tight around the bright red body, the pump went silent and a valve secured the vacuum. It took Niamh a few seconds to get used to the sight and the sudden silence, but then she sprung into action. Alex’ face looked far too inviting to resist, as did indeed the rest of her under the milky transparent film, but Niamh knew better than to rush things when she decided about the when and how. Ideally, this would have taken place somewhere else, she thought. You couldn’t get it all straight in one go, but it still felt a little awkward to play in a storage for nutters with a touch of chicken run. That would remain Terry’s speciality only. Niamh took comfort in the fact that the lips and the pair of dark eyes below her erased any impression from the surrounding universe. She was hers, and hers only for a short moment, and was not letting it go to waste.  


Another set of eyes were carefully surveying Theresa as she sifted through a heap of unsorted toys. André cleared his throat discreetly to announce his presence, and Theresa wobbled to her feet.

“Oh, there you are.” she sighed. “Everything all right?”

“So she wrapped you up in that thing? It fits you, sort of. Or really not.”

“Somehow this is your fault, you bastard. Don’t give me that face. Anyway...” Theresa pinched her waist with both hands, creating an instant pneumatic hourglass figure with added sound. “At least I can move now. She’s in for such a treat now, that woman. Would you help me find some stuff here, Andy?”

André raised an eyebrow and proffered a neatly packed plain hemp bag, which seemed a bit on the heavy side.

“I made sure she wouldn’t get her hands on these. Perfect for the occasion, I’d say.”


She had already lost herself in the landscape before and below her. Just to let her hands slowly sweep across the soft and warm curves sent shivers through her own flesh, and her imagination ran amok. It was perhaps not such a good idea to leave her in charge for long. Niamh tried to shun the thought of herself as a walking accident waiting to happen and turned her attention to the only part of Alex that was currently above surface.

“I don’t hear any complaints, ma’am...” she whispered.

“Sshh...” Alex barely bothered to articulate. “Don’t spoil... anything...”

“I have a feeling Ms. Dunlop will when she comes bouncing in here.”

“Ze kan mijn vuile aars k…oooohh.”  

”Yes. Now you know how I feel…” Niamh rumbled, pausing her fingers. “…when you won’t allow me to touch myself. Serves you right, ma’am.”

She withdrew slowly and reached for the discarded vibrator on the floor. It felt heavy and unwieldy in her hand, and she had yet to figure out the story behind the supersizing and supercharging of nearly all the toys in this place. What would it be like if Andy and Terry decided to build one of those automated, ridiculous fucktoys some people found so amazing? Niamh imagined it would be a yellow, six-cylinder all terrain penetrator requiring a hard hat and a licence to operate it. The thing resting in her hand probably had a three-page manual. Do not use if pregnant or easily frightened. She switched it on, keeping it on a very gentle setting and let it find its own way over the landscape she loved so much.

Niamh considered sharing a few dirty secrets to stoke the fire into a bright, blue flame, but decided not to. Alex little sounds were music to her, and there was no reason to disturb her little blissful moment as she lay there rendered motionless save a few shivering fits. Besides, it would be more interesting to let Alex find out by herself. One thing in particular was guaranteed to be a pure success.  It has to do with your eyes, my love. Or rather what happens inside this frizzy little head if I look into them for too long.    

All too soon, a flapping noise marked the entrance of Terry, the Nightmare of Pillsbury Executives into their little private sphere. Niamh looked up like a lioness unwilling to share her dinner.

“Oh, wow.”  Theresa breathed, but had the decency to let go of the rest of the sentence. She flopped down in the same spot on the divan as before, half pulling the dust cover off as she did so. The nondescript hemp bag released parts of its contents as she carelessly let go of it, and metal clanked against the floor. Now, Alex opened her eyes and squinted with well-measured curiosity over Niamh’s shoulder.

“I see you brought a few surprises.”

Miniscule shards of glass were in her voice, and Niamh was the only one detecting them. She removed the heavy wand and pressed Alex’ right hand through the membrane. Easy. I’ll handle this. Turning around slowly, she watched Theresa try to sort the different parts of what André had packed in the bag. There was a familiar, black box and something that looked like a large, curved probe with a handle. Niamh thought it looked a bit like a weapon. A funny little knob sat on top of it, and the wiring had a very business-like approach to it. In this moment, ‘what’s it for?’ seemed like a silly question.

“They call it ‘the Samurai’, but I don’t really get it.” Theresa blabbered on without really taking her eyes off Alex’ body. “It should be named after one of the swords instead, know what I mean, since it looks like one…It said something about samurai being some sort of servant, and therefore…well…”

It only took a single, meaning look from Alex to shut her up, making her forget everything she wanted to tell about her favourite culture. Niamh decided that she had to learn how to do that. It was devastatingly effective, and made a lasting impression. Although, despite being hushed, Theresa plucked up some much-needed courage and got to her feet.

“Help me get the bed a bit more upright, will you?” she asked, still sounding a bit nervous. “It’s that crank-thingy down there.”

Reluctantly, hoping to turn things in her favour if she played this right, Niamh turned the squealing wheel and watched Alex slowly rise. The bed frame showed tendencies of sliding off, but appeared to stay put at the point Niamh decided to stop challenging the whole contraption. Now, Alex lay on display in a not too daring thirty degree tilt, still rigidly secured. There was a look of mild interest in her face, which made Niamh feel a bit better about the situation. Unfortunately, Theresa proved a little too eager when she went for the lower opening on the vacbed, and Niamh caught her hand faster than a mongoose.

“No.” she snapped. “I’ll do it. Plug that thing in and give it here.”

“Girls, girls. Do behave.” Alex sounded unusually jolly, all of a sudden. “Terry, please let her try. Didn’t André want you to, well, do him a little extra favour apart from having me punished for nicking his biscuits, so to speak? I believe there is a little camera in there somewhere.”

“Yeah.” Theresa seemed a bit off balance again. “How did you know?”

“He knows humiliation better than you will ever do, from whichever viewpoint, and though he’s not that keen on women- bless his wicked little French arse- he knows I’m not really comfortable with being immortalised when I’m not in control, vulnerable... Pretty much like this, if you like. Hence, the camera. Naturally.”

“There’s a funnel gag in here as well.” added Theresa, holding it up.

“That does not come close to my face unless you have a bottle of Krug on ice behind you, understood? Otherwise...” Alex gave Niamh a glistening wink. “ ends up where the sun don’t shine, as it were. I do hope it’s not a kind of snide comment on my appetite, or I’ll break into tears.”

Finally, Niamh managed to understand how the cuff worked and opened it up. The pump automatically responded by revving up to cope with the sudden loss of vacuum, but as soon as the seal became airtight when the cuff moulded itself against Alex’ thighs and crotch, it slowed down to a halt. Carefully, Niamh unzipped Alex, who giggled endearingly at the touch.

“Slowly, darling. I don’t want to be snagged down there.”


“There’s half a gallon of lube in your bag,” Theresa went on unabated, but careful not to look in the wrong direction. “and I won’t ask why, exactly. It could come in handy now, though.”

“Terry. Just shut it and give me the whole package. Stop messing about.” hissed Niamh. She was getting frustrated for real, and seriously aroused to the point of losing her temper. Theresa handed her the sword-like device and the power box, looking a little ashamed of herself.

“It works like the rest of the stuff- pulse rate and frequency here, vibe there- and this thing is adjustable. I’ve set it on…”

“Lean, which means you’ll keep the skin on your buttocks.” Alex put in, grinning. “What are we waiting for?”

Theresa took up station on the divan again while Niamh set to work. Almost reverently, she massaged Alex’ swollen sex with her fingertips until she felt her relax and open up. She knew it would be impossible to get past the gates if she made one false move and tried to force anything in. Niamh remembered how easy it was to get a pair of fingers trapped. Things had to take their natural course, and if Alex didn’t decide to be difficult, this would work out fine.

Without turning any of the dials on, she gently eased the gleaming shaft in between her fingers parting the labia, and to her relief it slid in almost without friction. Alex sighed.

“Oh, you could at least… have warmed it first, sweetie. Brr.”

To be close to the centre of events with all her senses on full alert was starting to take its toll on Niamh. The sight and smell made her mouth water very badly, and she could barely withstand the urge to bury her face in the soft and moist flesh embedded in neoprene and latex. Her hands were beginning to feel a bit shaky, and it was hard to handle the knobs on the power box carefully enough. A little red light announced that the countdown to interesting events had begun, but there was hardly any reaction from Alex yet save an expression of mild amusement in her face. She was trying to keep an eye on how the thing worked. Theresa, on the other hand, was already having difficulties with her breathing.

“More like an ovary tickler, this Samurai.”


“Turn it up, please, sweetie.”

Niamh recognised the signs, and her fingertips told another story than Alex would let on. It was fascinating to feel the racing pulse through the skin on her mons, and it made Niamh’s heart pick up the pace even further. She gave the dials a good twist and jump-started the vibrator function by pure coincidence. Eager to do her best to make things happen, she started moving the sword slowly in and out, carefully enough to make every fraction of an inch noticeable without thrusting it too hard or losing rhythm. The little bug rattling in the cradle on the upper side of the shaft made soft touchdowns on the perfect spot each time Niamh gently pushed it in.

An unexpected effect was that the intensity of the current seemed to vary depending on how far Niamh pushed the toy. Alex tried to squirm when only the tip remained in her, and her face became happily relaxed as it slid in to the hilt. By now, her cool composure was rapidly evaporating as the combined torture began to wear her down, but still there wasn’t as much as a whimper from her. Niamh heard another buzzing sound grow louder, and realised that Theresa had fished the jackhammer vibe out from under a shelf and was desperately trying to find the way into the thick suit via the crotch zip to deploy it. She didn’t succeed very well, since she had a hard time focusing on anything but the magnificent sight of Alex slowly succumbing to Niamh’s increasingly confident manoeuvres.

Putting Alex under pleasurable duress was a dangerously addictive thing. Niamh recalled their little yoghurt incident smiling a little to herself, and bit her lip quite hard when the images of her kneeling before Alex in the luxurious shower cubicle brushed past. It was quite an art to find the keys to her weaknesses, Niamh thought. Once you had them, you were in control even if you were strapped to an office chair with a rubber sheet over your face, wordlessly begging to breathe, or with half a fist impaling you while you...Oh, yes. I can’t believe this is me, but it still is, somehow.

She looked up and admired the way the light illuminated Alex, caught like a red scarab in amber. Little frizzles of electricity wandered through her arm as the moisture made her hand highly conductive, and it told her that the setting she had it on now was probably nothing for beginners. Alex’ mouth was slack, and she could hear her mumbling. This was no match for her, Niamh thought with a strange tinge of pride. She could go on for much, much longer. Theresa, on the other hand, fought her constant prematurity in a furious and noisy battle with herself. She had finally found a way to push the wand in through the narrow opening, and judging from her groans and throes, it did exactly what it said on the tin. Niamh wondered how she would be capable of handling a camera in her slightly unfit state. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Kids with matches in a fireworks factory.  


Someone less gifted in the philosophical metaphor department had once told her that really good sex was like chocolate in more than one respect. You could in theory get too much of both, but with any luck, they proved their ability to spur a total moral amnesia, which would enable you to repeat the mistake over and over again. Niamh wasn’t ready to fully accept the theory yet, since her body told her that any penetrative action was out of question for at least a week- and that included front and back entrance- although she was ready to go to pieces any minute now. She would kill to feel those wonderful rubbery fingers sliding into her nether hole while that broad, smooth tongue caught her clit and let it...ooooh.

“Oh, God...” A strained grunt from Theresa broke the spell. “She’s coming. Look at her. She’s... oh, fuck...”

Niamh thought she would have found a better use for the funnel gag, without question. She was about to tell the prospect for her idea to buzz off, but that was in a sense what she already was busy doing, and there was no way Niamh could utter anything intelligible in the state she was in now. Anyway, Terry wasn’t wrong in her assumption.

Air seeped into the vacbed via the waist entry, making a weird, sucking sound when Alex lost control over herself and sent the pump working overtime. She was strong enough to contort the whole frame structure, and each jerk made the bad rattle unsteadily. Niamh hoped to God it wouldn’t fall over, and tried to hold on to it. By now, Theresa was losing it as well, and not in a small way. It was impossible to misinterpret those noises. Alex, on the other hand, just breathed very heavily as she fought hard to ride out the storm. Keeping the sword firmly into place, with the little vibe at the hilt fiercely chewing away under the swollen prepuce, Niamh tried desperately to do her best not to let go of things too soon.

Fuck this, I’m going in. With trembling fingers, she unhooked the humming capsule from its cradle and put her mouth in its place, sucking softly but insistently until she felt the big bead between her lips. Alex tasted heavenly, and she barely took notice of the smarting jolts hitting her tongue when she went exploring down south. Now, to her immense delight, something big slowly came rolling in. Little kitten noises from above revealed that the last of Alex’ cool was finally thawing out as she was pushed over the edge. A few bitter-tasting drops ended up of the tip of Niamh’s tongue, telling her that the last dam had just burst. It would have been a bit difficult if someone had passed on the little visit to the loo earlier, but now it was only a sheer delight to lap it all up.

A huge flopping sound followed by a smothered cry was coming from Theresa’s direction. She had fallen-or rather rolled- over the divan and down on the floor without the slightest possibility to stay put. The toy was still stuck between her thighs, relentlessly egging her body on to perform yet another climax, which by now appeared to hurt quite a lot.

Alex drew her breath, and for the second time this day, Niamh felt her spine tingle as the whole place resonated with a heartfelt, gilt-edged baritone laughter.

Do you smell the sawdust, Andy boy? The circus hasn’t left town. Come see the clowns.



Story continues in Part 9

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