Click and Collect: Self Storage

"Going somewhere after all?" I asked.

Brandon laughed. "Tempting," he said, "And Eve has been delightful company all weekend, but I kinda need to take my wife on this trip. It's our wedding anniversary."

My gaze shifted to the slight woman standing next to him. She was wearing a short dress and high heels, giggling at Brandon's comments, her straight, black hair dancing as she shook her head. Her skin was the colour of milky coffee and her eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Room for three?" she giggled.

"This is getting us nowhere," the taller man conceded.

Hayley stepped around them, already in her high heels. I could detect a nervous buzz in her demeanour: she wanted to do well.

"Can we see?" Eve asked, holding a hand to her mouth, eyes wide.

I took that as my cue and began to lift the floor tiles again, until we had exposed the shape of Brandon's wife, moulded into a glossy black sculpture by the latex that completely enveloped her body.

"She's not moving," Eve observed.

Hayley nodded. "I think she's asleep. She doesn't know whether it's night or day by now. Let me wake her up."

I watched as Hayley produced her phone and slid her thumb up the screen. All at once, the static shape came to life, straining and fighting against the sturdy plastic that held her captive as the vibrator surged powerfully inside her.

"Seems to be awake now."

With all the elegance she could muster, Hayley pulled up her skirt, as she had done before, revealing her stockings and a flash of her little black g-string as she slid down into the underfloor and began to unclip the water and urine bags from their tubes.

"Ready?" she asked, looking up at Brandon.

The bald-headed man could only nod, his mouth seeming to be suddenly dry. Hayley reached down and pulled a little plug; there was a faint hissing sound.

As we watched, the tightly-defined contours of the body in the vacuum cube became vague outlines and the body within slumped forward. Hayley began to run a finger around the front side of the cube, teasing the zip-lock seal apart. The latex wall crumpled as a shape pushed through, sprawling in Hayley's outstretched arms.

I was struck by the change in the woman's appearance. On Friday night, Brandon had escorted Bronte, his wife, into the back of the store. We had spent an hour detailing the process, showing them both the equipment and the safety measures. Bronte had hesitated before signing the release form that effectively turned her over into our care and removed her say in how her body was to be treated, but it had been nerves rather than unwillingness to go through with the storage process. I had taken her aside and had an earnest talk with her, watching as her eyes danced between the tubing, the cavity below the floor that she would be kept in, and the inscrutable black latex cube that would become her prison until her husband requested her release.

Brandon had played his part too, brandishing two plane tickets, leaving her to question whether she would be using the second one, or whether he would be taking another woman in her place while she spent her days imprisoned and helpless. In the end, Bronte had merely nodded, accepting what was about to be done to her, and let me fit the breath gag with its breathing and feeding tubes. She even bore it stoically as I applied the adhesive pouch between her legs to capture her wastes into another tube. I could still remember the clear blue eyes staring back out from where she huddled in the middle of the latex cube, her blonde hair wrapped in a tight, neat bun, as Hayley sealed her up inside the glossy black volume.

The creature we helped up from beneath the under-floor was very different from the bright-eyed, intelligent, curious woman we had sealed up two days ago. Now, her blue eyes were hooded, dull. She appeared to be utterly spent. Brandon took a step towards his wife, but Eve reached her first, crouching down in her heels to take the blonde woman's chin in her cupped hand.

"Bronte," she called, "Can you still hear me?"

Eve's expression lost its vapid buoyancy for a second as she surveyed the kneeling woman carefully. Bronte nodded. Eve's expression changed back again, and she giggled sexily.

"Aww, looks like someone had a good time down there in the dark," she tittered, condescendingly. "I had a good time too, just so you know, with your husband. I just can't believe I talked him into getting you out of the way so I could ride his wonderful body the entire weekend."

Eve stood, looming over the other woman in her heels, one hand on her hip. Eve stepped forward until Bronte's face was inches away from her crotch.

"I can't believe he talked you into being sealed up, unable to escape your little black cube as we fucked all weekend. I mean, it's your wedding anniversary, but instead of choosing to spend it with you, he took me home and fucked me on your bed, after he put you into storage."

Eve placed the palm of her hand on Bronte's forehead, tilting her head back until their eyes met. Eve's fingers explored the other woman's cheeks, tracing the red marks on her skin left from the breath gag.

"Were you very desperate to orgasm? That was my little twist, you know," Eve giggled, "I couldn't resist the idea of laying on your bed, climaxing on your husband's wonderful cock, and all the while thinking about you, all wrapped up in latex, brought to the brink but just unable to tip over the edge. I hope you were thinking about me too and what we were doing while you were stored, nicely not able to get in our way."

Bronte's face betrayed the first flickerings of emotion at these words, as Eve's barbs began to penetrate her post-sensory-deprivation mental state. Eve ran her fingers through the other woman's hair, tracing down her cheek to her jaw and applying gentle pressure. On command, Bronte's mouth opened in a little 'O' shape. Eve slipped a delicate finger into her waiting opening.

"But why am I telling you how much your husband enjoyed my body," she laughed, "When you could just find out for yourself?"

Eve's finger circled the tip of Bronte's tongue and then she began to raise the hem of her dress up over her thighs, exposing her naked, shaven pussy. Eve cupped the back of Bronte's head and gradually pulled her face into Eve's crotch.

"When you can taste for yourself."

The room was silent. Even Brandon appeared to be frozen to the spot as Eve began to rock her hips, rubbing her pussy lips against his wife's face. Bronte closed her eyes and when Eve withdrew her pussy again, I could see Bronte's tongue emerging from her entrance.

"Good girl. Can you taste him? Can you feel how much cum your husband released into me? Can you taste his cum on your tongue, right now?"

Eve didn't reply. She pressed her pussy against the kneeling woman's face and after a moment I could see Bronte's throat moving as her tongue began to work inside the cavity of the woman who had imprisoned her. Eve closed her eyes for a moment, emitting a low groan.

"That's good. You're so eager to clean me out aren't you? To give pleasure to the woman who took your place in your husband's bed."

Bronte began to suck and lick harder. Brandon and Hayley were standing behind her, so that when Eve looked up, only I could see her expression. She winked at me and broke out into a broad smile.

"So good. Like you were born to eat pussy. Did a weekend in storage turn you into a lesbian? Sealed up in the dark, I bet a lot of things went through your head. Maybe we should book another storage session. I could have more fun with your husband while you begin to crave the taste of pussy as much as you do of cock."

Eve's eyes fluttered and I could see her breathing had become shallow, more rapid.

"I... I think with enough time in storage, uh... we could turn our prim little school teacher... oh yeah, just that, just there, good girl... turn her into a proper orgasm slut. Oh. Yeah, okay."

Eve's fist bunched in Bronte's hair, pulling her head tightly into her crotch. I saw Eve's thighs began to quiver as Bronte's desperate, probing tongue brought her tormentor to the edge of climax. Eve broke off, repositioning Bronte's lips over her clit. Bronte sucked greedily and Eve shuddered into a violent orgasm, all the while holding the kneeling woman's head in place while she let the waves of climax ripple through her body.

Eve broke off her grip and stepped back, looking down at the blonde between her legs as she gasped and panted.

"That... that's my girl. You're going to be very useful."

Eve crouched down, her face close to Bronte's, to survey the juices she had smeared across the other woman's face. Without ceremony, she reached between the reddened, achingly swollen lips of Bronte pussy, slipping her fingers inside. The kneeling woman flinched, groaning loudly.

"I know, I know," Eve cooed sympathetically, "So close, just one little flick of that swollen clit and you'd go over the edge wouldn't you. I just can't imagine how you can stand it, let alone being kept like that for days."

Eve's fingers didn't move, still embedded in the eager blonde.

"Do you want me to do it? I could just stroke you now. You can feel where my fingertip is, can't you? Pressed up against that little spot inside you," Eve laughed, "What do you say?"

Bronte quivered. She was staring up into the dark eyes of her tormentor, then nodded.

"What?"

"Please. Yes," Bronte hissed, her words rasping from her throat, "Please make me cum. I've been so good. I've been such a good girl, waiting for you. Please."

Eve's fingers moved, but instead of granting her victim the release she begged for, she pulled out the bullet vibrator that had been embedded inside the shuddering woman all weekend. Below her, the kneeling woman crumpled, her face a mask of need and despair.

Eve stood up and handed it to me, grinning. "Yours, I believe."

Eve turned back to Brandon, her expression changing again to assume the role of the vacant, sated bimbo.

"Baby, maybe we should get her packed," she said in a high girly voice, "I don't want you to miss the flight."

Eve bent forward to wipe a thumb across the smear of wetness on Bronte's cheeks.

"You don't mind getting packed up again, do you? At least this time when you're sealed up in the dark you have something to taste."

Brandon popped open one of the large suitcases. It was empty. He wheeled it over to his wife's body and laid it down next to her, open. I watched as the kneeling woman wordlessly shuffled across and laid down inside the suitcase, tucking herself into a ball so that her husband could close the case and zip her up inside. He stood the suitcase up and wheeled it over to the other one. We all stood in silence for a moment, looking at the two identical sets of luggage.

"She didn't even protest," Eve mused, then looked at me. "It looks like storage is quite a transformative experience." She tittered to herself.

I cleared my throat and addressed Brandon. "Just remember which one has your clothes in it, and which one has your wife. We don't want you checking in the wrong suitcase at the airport."

Brandon laughed, beginning to recover from the impact of witnessing his wife being forced to clean his cum out of his lover.

"Yeah, imagine the x-ray scanner," he said.

He seized the handles of both suitcases and began to wheel them out of the office, down the ramp to the shop floor. Eve followed behind. At the door, I turned to Hayley and murmured close to her ear.

"Good job. I think the clients were very impressed."

"All part of the service. You're the maestro, right?"

"I guess. Do you want to see them out with me? Bask in the glory?"

"Nah. Let me clean up the cube while you schmooze the clientele," she replied, then cocked an eyebrow, "Maestro."

Hayley had a strange look in her eyes. It could have been tiredness, or it could have been arousal, or maybe both: the weekend had been quite a test for both of us. I left her in the office and walked the clients out through the front doors to their cars.

Brandon was crouching down in front of one of the suitcases, his hand resting protectively on top of the shiny plastic shell, talking in low tones. Eve was standing at a little distance, giving the big man some privacy with his wife. She looked at up me as I came to a halt next to her, her head level with my shoulder.

"It's always good to see that, Tom. Never gets old."

The ditzy, bubbly persona was gone now, replaced by a shrewd demeanour.

"Do you know he actually filmed us fucking on the marital bed? He said it would get her off, the humiliation of it. He's going to show her when they've taken off. He wants her hot to trot by the time they land. I think she's way past hot to trot already. You should have felt how eager she was."

"It all sounds exhausting," I murmured.

"I disagree. I think it's romantic. He put a lot of preparation into giving her the perfect weekend. I just hope if I ever get married that my husband would care that much about what I needed."

Eve patted me on the arm.

"First rate work, as usual, Tom. Would recommend. Five stars."

"Always happy to help."

"You know, you could make an actual living at this. You're wasted as a store manager."

I laughed. "I'd miss interacting with the general public."

"Said no-one in retail, ever."

We watched as Brandon lifted the suitcase containing his wife gently into the back of the car. He turned to us and waved before getting in and driving off.

"See you in the club on Saturday? We can compare notes."

"Yeah."

"Bringing your, uh...?"

"My business partner. Sure, if she wants to come."

"My round, it's the least I can do," Eve said, patting me again on the arm again before heading over to her own car. "I should invite you to play more often."

I turned, shivering a little at the chill in the deepening dusk as I walked back into the darkened store. It was probably the longest I had spent outside in days; the needing to keep close watch over my client had taken its toll. It only took a moment to lock the front doors behind me, and then I was left to soak in the silence. Now that the adrenaline of the moment was draining away, I became aware just how tired I was. Self-storage was a good earner, but I would need to rethink the bedding situation if we did it in future. At the back of the store, I could see the light on in the office. After spending the weekend looking after Bronte, it was time to close up the store and spend the night in my own bed for a change.

Hayley was waiting for me in the office, sitting cross legged in the chair, still wearing her high heels. The floor tiles were still stacked against the wall and the latex cube was still fully assembled in the underfloor area.

"Uh, I thought you said you were packing up."

Hayley was looking at me strangely, and she replied, "Cleaning it up, I said. It's clean, so are the accessories."

"We should dismantle everything. Just in case."

Hayley didn't answer. Instead, she recrossed her legs, showing me a tantalising glimpse up her skirt. I saw the end of a tube between her thighs and my heart jumped.

"Hayley," I said, "What's going on?"

She didn't reply. Instead, she stood and slid her arms behind her. I heard the sound of a zip and her grey work skirt dropped to the floor. I stared.

Where I had seen the neat black strip of her g-string previously, there was now a clear plastic pouch with a length of tubing emerging from it. My mind reeled at the implications, but I felt myself hardening at the sight of Hayley's beautiful body. She undid her blue and white blouse, dropping it on top of the skirt, and then unfastened her bra.

Standing before me in just a pair of stockings and high heels, she returned my gaze nervously.

"What's going on?" I repeated.

Hayley stepped out of her heels and stripped each stocking down her legs, slowly and carefully. She swallowed hard.

"I want you to store me."

She picked up the breath gag from the desk and held it out to me.

A part of me recoiled from the idea of reducing my assistant to a shiny, black shape, trapped in the middle of the cube. Another part of me admitted that this moment had been something I had been looking forward to for a long time. My hands seemed to move on their own as I took the gag. Hayley opened wide to let me slide it into place and I threaded the strap around the back of her head and through its buckle to pull it tight. Only then did I realise that I hadn't given her the opportunity to talk me through this and outline what she wanted me to do. Too late now.

I held her hand, helping her down into the under floor. She kicked off her heels and backed into the glossy cube. I connected the breathing tube to the aperture in the side of the cube, then the feeding and waste tubes.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I confessed, but all Hayley could do to respond was appraise me with her wide, green eyes.

Her cheeks were flushed and rosy. The idea of me putting her into storage was clearly a huge turn-on for her. Just before I sealed her inside the cube, I took a long look at her as she knelt gagged and naked in the black latex, and asked again.

"Are you sure you know what's going on?"

Hayley nodded.

"And you want me to do this to you?"

She nodded again.

"How long for?"

This time Hayley shrugged.

"You want to be treated like Bronte was? Not knowing when I'll let you out? You want me to have complete control?"

Hayley nodded emphatically, and without seeking any further acknowledgement, I sealed her inside the cube and started the vacuum. It buzzed away for about a minute until the latex surface began to bulge and distort as it contracted around the kneeling figure in the middle of the cube. Abruptly, her body fell into sharply-sculpted relief and the pitch of the vacuum became higher as it fought with the lack of air. I disconnected it and screwed in the stopper. Hayley was now inescapably secured inside her tiny latex prison.

I knelt in front of the prone figure of a woman, caught in the glossy sheen of tight black latex. I brought up the app on my phone.

"The full client treatment," I said. "Full? I wonder, did you...?"

I tapped the screen and the shape before me squirmed, answering my question. She'd even inserted the vibrator so she could be teased.

I reached out, touching her face. She pushed her cheek into my outstretched hand, nuzzling it as best she could in the confines of her latex prison. I increased the vibrator setting, feeling her squirm as the embedded device did its work. My hand slid down her neck, finding the orbs of her breasts, sealed in the shiny black material. Her nipples were hard and erect. I took one of them between thumb and finger, rolling the firm nub gently. The shape inside the glossy cube began to writhe and buck.

"You realise that I set the shifts and approve the sick leave?", I said, "I can arrange things so that no-one else finds it odd when you don't turn up to work."

I let my hand drift down the slick surface, feeling the contraction of her abdominal muscles reacting to my touch. I cupped her crotch, feeling the tube there and the plastic pouch sealed over her entrance. My own hand began to shake as I gave in to long-denied temptation and pressed my hand against Hayley's pussy, feeling her squirm and rub against me, grinding her clit against my palm, building up to climax. I didn't move, watching the glossy black shape contort and writhe with its approaching orgasm. I could see the shiny latex that bound her thighs begin to quiver as she reached her edge.

I withdrew my hand and turned off the vibrator. The shape reacted furiously, twisting and arching, its groin thrusting out, desperate to find the slightest contact to allow release. The head shook violently, but without making a sound. It couldn't: the gag embedded in Hayley's mouth would prevent her from making any noise at all. I stroked the shape's cheek gently, giving her a few moments for the reality of her situation to sink in.