Influencers: Closed System

Looking over my shoulder, Ashley remains frozen in place, aghast, traces of my cum in the corners of her lips and her pussy dripping with her own desperate juices, kneeling naked on her own back lawn. She knows that I just used her only for my own pleasure, and that somehow I had been able to make her to do that for me. She has been shown that I have successfully turned her into my toy, her body and her orgasms now firmly under my control.

We have all weekend, and we're just getting warmed up. I leave her kneeling there in the dappled light of the morning sun and head to the shower.

---

Ashley makes lunch while I busy myself in the back garden, laying a plastic sheet down over the patio pavers. I bring in more equipment from my car, lugging it past her curious eyes. She knows she's not allowed to speak, and although I can tell she's burning with questions, I don't give her the option.

We've discussed it all, what I'm going to do to her and how she's going to be for the rest of the weekend. She's imparted enough of her paramedic training to allow me to do the things I need to her without hurting her, or so I hope. I'm here to cause her torment, but I'm not here to inflict pain.

After the morning's activities, I'm dressed again, but in ratty old shorts and a t-shirt spattered with pain drips. Ashley is in the kitchen, naked still. I retrieve a toilet bag from my carryall and walk up behind her in the kitchen, wrapping my arms around her waist and brining my lips close to her ear. In response, she doesn't stop chopping the tomatoes any longer than is needed to tug her mane of dark hair out of the way of my face. She resumes her task.

"Couple of things," I say, my voice casual. "First, only one set of sandwiches."

She twists in my grasp, frowning at me but unable to speak. I unzip my little bag and begin to drop sachets on the countertop one after another.

"This is your lunch, and your dinner," I tell her, "And breakfast, and lunch tomorrow."

I hold up one last sachet and wiggle it in front of her face.

"Depending on how we go, this is dinner for you tomorrow night, but I'm going to give you that choice."

She looks at the sachet I'm holding, and what it means to be fed the contents of these rather than having the lunch that she's preparing. I can see how this is suddenly very real for her. I extract one last item, a smooth purple ovoid about the length of my finger. Her nostrils flare.

"You know what this is," I murmur, "You're going to believe it's part of you by tomorrow night."

Without asking, I reach down between her legs and spread her labia with my fingers. I run the tip of a finger along the delicate fold of her inner lips, teasing her entrance. She's still moist, but not because of the merciless edging ordeal from earlier this morning. No, Ashley's deeply aroused by the prospect of what I'm about to do to her, the inevitability of her fate for the rest of the weekend. I can tell that she is still deeply in submissive mode, her body eager to be exploited. I press gently with the purple vibrator and it slides easily inside her. I follow it with my finger, positioning it carefully deep inside, nestled against her g-spot.

"There, how does that feel?"

Her eyes search mine for a moment, until she decides that it's a direct question and she's permitted to answer.

"I feel full, but also not. It's strange."

"Have you ever used one of these before?"

"No."

"This is going to become part of your life from now on. You see this?"

I hold up my phone. There's an app on the screen with a graph tracing a line down the bottom.

"Think of this as the remote control to your body. Even after we're done for this weekend, I want you to get used to the fact that each and every orgasm you're permitted will be controlled by me, through this."

I slide a finger up the screen in full view of the woman before me. The line on the graph lifts immediately and she gasps in surprise. I hold her there as I talk.

"This is your future. You don't ever need to touch yourself again. You just slip the vibe in like a good girl and wait for your master to decide whether you get pleasure," I say, tracing my finger further up the screen to intensify the feeling against her g-spot, "Or denial."

I swipe down, removing all sensation. Ashley groans, rubbing her knees together. I notice how white her knuckles are, clutching the chopping knife.

"Now, why don't you mix up a sachet? I think we should have lunch out on the grass, seeing as how it's such a nice day. You might as well get some vitamin D while you're still able. After this point, it's going to be challenging for your skin to soak up the sunlight."

I leave her and walk out through the open bi-fold doors into the little back garden. I can feel her lovely honey-brown eyes on me, I can imagine the look on her face, the uncertainty of what exactly was going to be done to her. I sit on one of the white plastic lawn chairs, not the one in the middle of the grass: it's still wet from her piss.

She comes out after a few minutes, carrying my sandwich on a little plate and a tall glass of clear, orange-tinted liquid. I take the sandwich from her, but as she goes to sit in a chair I stop her.

"You can stand and drink. You don't need to use furniture."

A thought occurs to me, and I continue, "In fact, I think you'd be an ideal piece of furniture yourself. Kneel here."

I indicate the spot of grass next to my chair and watch as the naked woman in front of me complies reluctantly, getting down on her knees, still holding her drink. I grasp the wrist of her other hand and position it in front of her, palm up. I set the plate down on her outstretched hand.

"Ideal. Now drink your lunch. We need to keep your strength up."

Tentatively, Ashley raises her glass to her mouth and takes a sip.

"I got orange flavour. Hopefully it's not too bad. It should keep you going without you needing to defecate. That would be inconvenient," I say, smiling wryly at her uncertain expression, "Actually, a logistical nightmare, so we really need to avoid that."

We have lunch in silence, and then afterwards I tell her to take the enema kit from the kitchen table and flush herself out. Ashley complies silently, a part of her very used to the process from her medical training. However, I suspect, she would never have expected to perform it on herself at home while naked, under the direction of someone else.

When she returns, she's looking uncomfortable.

"All clean?"

Even though she can speak to answer a question, she chooses merely to nod. I'm standing next to the plastic chair in the middle of the grass. I've wiped the piss away and I tap the back to indicate to her that she should sit. She notices that I'm wearing latex gloves and I can see the trepidation in her face as she settles her bare bottom onto the white plastic seat. I have a plastic pouch in my other hand and I rip the top open, extracting a long, flexible tube with an attachment at one end. I pause.

"At this point, you're allowed to speak."

I expect her to ask questions, or express her concerns, but she doesn't. She remains silent.

"I mean it. I don't want to mess this up," I say.

"You won't," she replies, but like she's encouraging me, not like it's an admission of the inevitable.

She tilts her head back and takes a deep breath as I hold the end of the tube to her nostril. I take out a tube of lubricant from my pocket and coat the end, hesitating. She can see the concern on my face and unbelievably she gives me a wink, making me laugh out loud, dispelling the tension. I roll my eyes and take a deep breath of my own, then begin to feed the tubing into her nostril. I'm slow and careful, doing it the way she taught me, marvelling to myself at the length of the tube I'm pushing into her body.

Ashley nods and I'm done. I blink, suddenly aware of the tension in my shoulders. She reaches up, wobbling the remaining length of tube as it sticks incongruously out of her left nostril, then gives me a thumbs up. I take a shorter length, and she tilts her head back again while I slide it into her right nostril not much deeper than my outspread hand.

"All good?" I ask.

"Mmm hmm."

"I'd tell you that you're not allowed to speak again, but I think that's a foregone conclusion from this point."

She looks up at me, eyes twinkling with two tubes poking out of her nostrils and makes a sound that could be a laugh. The trepidation is gone now and all I can see in her face is excitement because finally the waiting is over and we're underway.

I take a length of surgical tape and secure it over her nostrils, holding the tubes in position while also sealing her nose. After that's done, she settles in the chair while I go inside to retrieve the next pieces of equipment: a plastic tube, a water bottle and a funnel.

I use the pedestal lampstand for height, securing the funnel and joining the free end of the tubing to the tube threaded into her stomach, dangling from her nostril. I catch a look in her eyes, sparkling with mirth at my obvious unease with being outside my own comfort zone for once. I raise the water bottle to the funnel suspended above her head and begin to pour, watching the expression of the naked woman seated below me. She watches the funnel fill and then closes her eyes, accepting the liquid into her stomach. When she opens her eyes again, the amusement is gone, replaced by a calm acceptance of her loss of control.

For some reason, seeing her trust in me settles my jitters. I kneel in front of her and rip open a second pouch, extracting another length of tubing. She spreads her legs wide and tilts her hips, presenting her crotch for easy access. Delicately, I spread her labia and use my gloved fingertip to locate the tiny aperture nestled below her clitoris. I present the end of the tube and moisten it with lubricant before delicately sliding it into her.

I push in as far as I can and she squirms a little, trying to relax herself. The tube slides further and a tiny dribble of piss runs down the tube and onto the grass.

"Hold please."

She takes the end of the tube while I take more of the surgical tape, this time cutting longer lengths to lay over her pussy, layering them until she is sealed completely, just the rubber tube emerging from the white square of tape. I take the end of the tube from her hand, and she brushes her fingers over her crotch, exploring.

"Closed for business, sorry," I tell her, then I twist the knife, "If only you had held out this morning, you would have gotten to cum. No longer in your future."

I tap the square of white tape with a finger.

"That eager little clit of yours is very definitely packaged away for the duration, but you've still got the vibe to fill you up. Talking of which."

I stand up, and motion for her to do the same. She's careful in her movements, conscious of still being attached by her nose to the funnel.

"Turn around and kneel on the chair."

Ashley does as she's told, sticking her bottom out. I let my gloved hand inspect her firm curves, before tracing a finger between her buttocks. I find her little puckered opening and stop.

"Orifice number two. Stay still."

I place something on her back, so she can feel the weight of it. It's a plug with a set of beads and as she's contemplating what I'm about to do to her, I begin to drizzle lubricant into her crack and over her rear entrance, working the slick fluid with my finger, pressing insistently until I feel her sphincter relent and let my finger inside.

"Good girl."

I know how challenging this is for her. It was one of the sticking points in our early discussions, the idea that I would also be attending to both orifices. Ashley had never done anything like this previously; her boyfriend had certainly never brought it up, but we had talked for a long time, about submission and giving up control, and how it was not the submissive's choice how her master decided to use her body. Ashley had understood what I was asking and had eventually come around to it. Even so, the beads are a new addition. I run them through my fingers, smearing them with lubricant.

"Here we go. First one."

I hold the bead against her opening, letting her come to terms with it, then begin to push. She relaxes and it slides inside.

"Good. Next."

I push the next bead into her and she grunts. I don't relent, continuing until she's filled. There are five beads on a thin, stiff spine, pushing each bead deeper into her as the next is inserted. Finally, there is just the plug at the end. I slather it with more lube and then push it in. She stretches to accommodate its girth and then abruptly sucks it into herself, her sphincter closing around the narrow neck, leaving only the flattened, flared disc showing, nestled closely over her entrance. I wipe off the excess lube and apply more surgical tape, binding it in place.

"Okay, back around please."

Ashley turns to face me but doesn't sit.

"On the chair."

She hesitates, unsure of how it's going to feel with her front and back entrances now filled and plugged. We are in new territory now. I wait, making it clear that I expect her to sit, and she lowers herself gingerly to the seat. I watch her face as she rests her weight on her bottom, wiggling her hips to get comfortable.

"Does it feel okay? Not hurting?"

She can see I'm sincere and she shakes her head.

"That's good. If ever it does, then let me know and we can assess. Now, let's speed things up a bit. You know what's next."

I go back inside and when I return, I'm carrying a smooth, black latex hood and a dildo gag. I can see that Ashley is unperturbed; we've been here before. She opens her mouth and accepts the thick, two-inch black phallus between her lips and I secure the straps behind her head.

"Good?"

She nods. I pass the hood to her to hold for me, and then she frowns.

"I need you to see this."

My final item is a stiff, black posture collar, much thicker and larger than usual. I show it to her.

"I asked Tom to do the collar because frankly it's beyond me. I gave him all the details and he came up with this. I hope you don't mind me sharing your private fantasises with someone else," I soothed her, "He's discreet."

The collar closes via a latch at the front, but it's the back that's interesting. Set into the thick moulded plastic are two compartments. The larger one has a clear latex bag with two tubes sticking out of the top. The smaller one has a battery pack into which a pair of earbuds have been wired.

"This is your last chance to say no, Ash. After this, your ability to communicate is going to be reduced to clicking your fingers, so I need to know. Are you good?"

Her eyes dance between the collar with its outlandish modifications, and my face.

"I'm not asking you as a sub, I'm asking you as a friend. This is going to get quite intense."

Very slowly, Ashley nods, her eyes locked on mine, fierce. I imagine that buried somewhere behind the tape, her poor, imprisoned clit is throbbing.

"We're finally, really going to do this."

She nods again, then angles her head back to present her throat to me. I open the collar and fit it around her neck. It only takes me a few seconds to seat the earbuds in her ears and then I secure them in place with more surgical tape, applying more layers than necessary, until her ears are complete cocooned. I snap my fingers in front of her face.

"Did you hear that?"

She shakes her head.

"Lip reading?"

She nods.

"We can cure that."

I unplug the tube connecting her nostril to the funnel above her, then make her stand up. One end of the tube is plugged into her crotch, threading it between her legs and up her back. Carefully, I connect the other end into her collar. When I step back, I see the anxiety on her face, but I don't stop. I connect the tube from her left nostril to her collar also. Ashley's hands begin to explore, touching the tubes, eyes widening as she realises what I've done to her. Liquid emerging from her bladder will now be channelled into the plastic sac in the collar, and from there, up into her feeding tube.

The final task is to connect the tube from her other nostril to a nub on the front of the collar. There is a hole set into the collar beneath it, threaded on the inside with a screw thread. Holding my hand up to it, I can now feel her breath passing between my fingers.

At last, I take the hood from her hand and slide it over her head. She doesn't resist. There are no eye holes and the shiny black surface erased her features, transmuting her into a faceless doll. I pick up my phone and press a button, holding it to my mouth.

"Can you hear me?" I ask the featureless figure in front of me, watching it nod.

"Good."

Her hands are tracing over the hood, over the tubes and their connections to the collar, trying to work it all out. I leave her standing there and go back inside to bring out the last of the items. I catch her hand and feed the length of hose through her fingers until she grips it. I allow her to explore the object, tracing her fingers down to one end of the hose, finding a screw thread, and then up to the other end, fingers squashing a large, deflated rubber sac. I give her a moment to process it, let her build up the anticipation, then take it from her fingers.

She can feel me screwing the end into the hole in the front of her collar. I let go of the hose and it flops, the sac coming to rest between her bare breasts, inflating and deflating with each breath of the helpless woman. I bring my phone to my mouth again.

"To help you, let me explain," I begin, "The water from the funnel is in your stomach now, then will collect in your bladder eventually. Your bladder will push it up to the pouch in the collar, which holds about the same amount as I poured in. When it fills, the overspill will pass down the other tube and back into your stomach, recycling."

Ashley's hands dart anxiously to the back of her neck, feeling the pouch and the tubes. I turn her around. The first trickles of a pale yellow liquid are already accumulating in the bottom of the clear plastic.

"Meanwhile, as you breathe out, the air is passing into your collar and out via a hose to an airbag. It's good for a few minutes, but it's a sealed unit. When you breathe in, that same air is going back into your lungs, minus the oxygen your body took out the first time, so little by little you're going to run out."

Her hands find the airbag and she spreads her fingers wide, frantically trying to judge how big it is, how much air she has left. Her movements are jerky, but I can't tell if it's terror at finding herself in this predicament, or excitement. There is only one way to be sure.

"And finally, you have no smell, no taste, no sight, and the only sound you hear is when I allow you to hear my voice. Listen to me very carefully now. Place your hands behind your back."

I mute the phone and wait: this is the ultimate test. Ashley brings one arm behind her with agonizing slowness. I grasp her wrist and she freezes. The cold, unyielding steel of handcuffs brush over her skin and I close the cuff tightly around her wrist. I stand to the side, watching her other hand dithering on the airbag, exploring the hose, touching the tubes and then the collar. The airbag pulses rapidly as she draws in little breaths, trying to control the tempest of emotions welling up inside her. All I can do now is wait for her to decide. She can either reach up and unscrew the hose from her neck and stop everything, or she can let her free hand be cuffed, removing any chance of being able to rescue herself, becoming completely helpless under my control. I know that her air is starting to run out.

Ashley balls her fingers into a fist, her breathing rapid and shallow, as her entire body bristles with a strange, wild energy. Her thighs quiver and she thrusts her arm back, letting me secure it with the handcuffs, surrendering her body to me. I tighten the cuff inescapably around her wrist, and she's powerless, utterly at my mercy, dependent on me for such a fundamental thing as her very next breath. She seems to freeze, her body going suddenly rigid, and then I see her shudder, and I realise she's orgasmed, her thighs quivering as the waves of her climax tear through her helpless, doomed body.