tagBDSMThe Extremist

The Extremist


The question went through her head, "How on earth did I get myself into this situation?"

Immediately the answer came to her, "Because I arranged this way."

She knew right away that, whatever she was feeling in her body and whatever was going through her mind, she had planned, managed and scheduled it in minute detail.

She reviewed her situation. She was in total darkness or, at least, no light was reaching her eyes. Her mouth was fully agape with a hard rubber inflated gag that had a stainless steel tube through its centre so that she could breathe and could feel the cool air hitting the back of her throat at each inhaled gulp. Her ears were plugged with wax and her whole head was contained in an inflatable hood. It had an inner and an outer layer. She could feel the pressure of the inner skin on her face and head, and down onto her neck although she knew that the outer skin was inflated to a perfect sphere. Her head was lost inside a rubber globe, inflated to hardness and she was breathing through a narrow rubber tube to the outside world, and into her gaping mouthpiece and straight onto the back of her throat.

She wriggled her fingers but couldn't feel them, and she knew why. Her arms and hands were encased in long leather gloves which had steel bones along their full length and had been laced tightly with leather thongs all up the front of each wrist, over the lower arm and elbow, and all the way to her armpits. She was obliged to have her arms stretched out akimbo. She could have thought "like a crucifix" but her religious upbringing wouldn't allow that.

"Like a scarecrow," she thought.

The tightness of those gloves had restricted the blood flow to her hands so that now they were just numb appendages at the end of two leather poles, sticking out of her shoulders. She could move not a single muscle in shoulders, arms or hands. She was glad now that her plans had included the gyno-couch to lie on because she couldn't possibly have stood with her arms out like this. As it was, she was supported down her spine, and her arms and legs were each held up on stirrup-arms, and her head was resting on a curved pillow set much lower than it ever would be for a gyno investigation; her massive blown-up head needed all the support she could get.

She tried to move her head from side to side but she knew that would be impossible as well. Under the rubber hood, her throat was enclosed in a choker of fiendish design and unforgiving tightness. It rested on her shoulders and collar bones, and finished right up under her ear lobes on both sides of her hear. Like the gloves, this choker was made of leather and boned rigidly with steel, and it was laced tightly all the way up the back. Her head was pulled backward slightly but, more than that, her neck was being stretched by a full two inches beyond its natural length. She knew that her throat was long and narrow. Sometimes, she wore a man's shirt with 14 inch collar but she'd designed this choker with a circumference of only 12 inches and now she could feel the force of its tightness. She sucked air noisily through the rubber breathing tube, noisily into the steel tube in the gag and noisily down her throat because the airway was so tightly constricted.

"I knew it would be tight," she thought, "but this is much more restrictive than I imagined. My neck must be twice as long as normal," she exaggerated to herself.

At the other end of her body, her feet were no more comfortable. She'd got herself the boots with ballet heels and she was laced tightly into them, with her feet held out in straight lines from her knees. For her size 4½ feet, the 6 inch heels meant that her feet were bent down at almost 90 degrees from a normal standing position. Even with her preference for high heels, this experience was more extreme than she'd imagined. She went over in her mind the "insertion" of her feet and legs into these boots. She had put on herself the pair of black hold-up stockings, before the boots were fitted.

The two assistants she'd recruited to help her achieve an extreme experience, had sat her on the edge of a sofa and gradually fitted her feet into the shoe parts. It was the first thing that had happened to her in her plan and, at first, she was aware only of the pull in the muscles of her instep, over her toes and strangely also of her calf. For a few minutes, she had sat there in her underwear with her feet in the shoe parts, still not fastened and the boots lying open all the way up, flopping to the sides on the carpet. Actually, they didn't just flop: they were boned from the knees upwards and they lay there like parts of armour awaiting their closure on her body. Then her assistants had started the process of lacing the shoes, starting very near the toes and up towards her ankles. They were not gentle, these two good-looking young men. They simply took a foot each, grabbed the laces, and leaner back away from her. In a few seconds, her feet had been forced into the straight ballet position and her ankles began to complain, and again her calf muscles.

"Whoa," she'd said as if to a bolting pony, but the assistants ignored any attempt at moderation. And so they began the process of lacing the boots up her calves, looping the leather thongs over the toggle hooks and leaning back at each cross-over. For over an hour, they struggled to get her legs encased in the boots.

The first time they tried to close the boots, the thongs weren't parallel down the front of her legs and they undid some distance and tried again, leaning and pulling always harder. Eventually, the thongs were parallel and her legs were encased in leather, her feet were linear extensions of her claves and the tops of the boots came right up into her crotch. It was this last inch or two of lacing that presented a great difficulty at the finish. How to lace tightly in a location with no room for fingers and thongs and the boots themselves? But these guys were not to be deterred and they moved her around on the floor any way they needed until the boots were laced up hard and tight, and digging into the flesh of her labia and mons. The bones gave the most obvious of her sensations. They dug in just where her pelvis and hip joint came together underneath, and she was to be aware of that probing sensation for the rest of her time in the predicament she'd arranged for herself. Her toes began to complain, also, at being forced to bear her full weight inside the little steel cups at the toe end of the boots. She was standing on her big toes really, and they weren't used to such treatment.

Here and now, at this moment, she recalled the neck choker that came next, the gag, and then the inflated hood. By this time, 8 hours ago, she'd been rendered incapable of flight, even if she wished to flee. Which she didn't, because all was going according to plan. At that stage. Soon afterwards, things began to get out of her complete control. Not totally, because she'd planned everything that had happened but not quite to the extent or in the extremity of the way they'd been exacted on her body.

First had been the gloves, so that she had no option but to let the rest of it all happen. Her hands had become useless, stuck out sideways as she stood waiting for the next component of her plan.

It was the breast tying. She'd planned to have cords drawn around each breast so that they stood out like big grapefruits, and she could feel the stricture and the swelling. Her assistant had other ideas and went further. They tied the cords OK and pulled them nice and tight with four turns around each breast base. The globes formed beautifully and she complimented herself on the effect; just as she'd imagined. But the assistants then came towards her with two metal circles, they stretched them out like springs and held them over the cords, passed the metal through a little housing of some kind and then started tightening a little screw underneath that she couldn't see. After a minute the metal circles were in contact with the cords and the assistants struggled for a moment to untie the cords and unwind them from under the metal clips. So she was left with metal to hold her breasts like grapefruits, but they hadn't finished. Each reached to one side, produced a screwdriver and started to tighten the circular clips even more. She could feel the effect right through into her chest. Her mammary glands were being forced into spheres on the end of stalks and it was not comfortable.

"That's not comfortable", she said, "stop now".

They ignored her and kept tightening the screw until the stalk to each breast was only one inch across, And her breast were going dark with the restricted blood flow. They began to swell to the size of Ogen melons and they hurt. She began to whimper a little. This was not exactly as planned but, even as she complained, her breasts began to go numb. Like her hands. And her feet. After a minute or two, she looked down and saw her breasts as perfect spheres with the nipples standing out like fuses on cartoon hand-grenades.

The next stage went more or less as planned. The bra she'd designed, and had made for herself, was intended to hold these globes like two ripe fruit, only now they were rather riper than she'd thought possible. The bra was a masterpiece of construction. It was made in black satin over a base of cotton and had broad shoulder straps so that the full width of her shoulders was covered by them. It came down to her bottom ribs and contained her shoulder blades at the back and sternum at the front. It was boned over those areas from top to bottom so that it shouldn't ride up or move around. It fastened at the back with leather thongs, of course, and could be made to lie flat on her thorax, containing the entire upper part of her body. But the cups were the special feature. Although they were intended to hold globes, they were shaped like big bullets and were boned down the sides of each breast from the chest to the pointed end. And they laced up at the top surface, so that those globes could be remodelled into breast shapes again, inside the machine that was this bra.

Her assistants fitted the bra over her shoulders and laced up the back alright, but getting the big spheres into the cups was more of an undertaking. They tried to push and pull her swollen breast, holding them in place with one hand and trying to close the cups a round them. But it wasn't possible for one man to do a breast all by himself, so they helped each other. One held the swollen globe and the other slowly closed the cup around it, and began to lace up the bullet a little to keep things in place. The onto the other one to the same end, so that both were ready for the final tightening into their proper artillery shapes, and that was done without a moments hesitation by these two men. Both simply took the leather thongs, hunched their shoulders and pulled so that the cups closed into the required shapes. Her breasts had been spheres and now were items of ammunition, sticking out of her chest. And they were tight, really, tight, impossibly tight. The stalks by which here breasts were attached to her chest were being stretched out even further and she wondered what was happening to the skin under those metal circle clips. She'd wondered also how she could stand this sort of tightness for any length of time but for her that worry was part of the excitement and anticipation.

Then came the corset she'd chosen for herself. It was black leather and made to reduce her waist by 8 inches. This part of the exercise went exactly as planned and within 20 minutes she had the hourglass figure she'd desired. Actually, the process of reducing a fully grown woman's waist is not as easy as that sounds and she knew she'd managed the effect in double-quick time. The first time she'd tried a reducing corset, it had taken her all day to draw the laces together gradually. This took just a few minutes and she was ready for the sudden restriction and breathlessness. Her ribs were already enclosed pretty tightly by the formidable bra, and the corset went over the top of it, right up to the line of steel bones at the bottom edge of her breasts. She was expecting the feeling of being crushed in the corset but the double effect over her ribs took her by surprise and she gasped audibly. The assistants both smiled and tied off her waist at 20 inches. Below her waist, her abdomen curved out slightly, shaped by a carefully chosen spoon-shaped busk. The corset came very low down on her hips, and held her buttocks slightly together but the smoothness of her derriere was still free, as she's planned for later. She knew that she looked the perfect figure of a woman. Her hips were now 16 inches bigger than her waist and the knowledge made her excited in a new way. She began to moisten between the tops of the boots!

By this time, the only part of her body that was not contained in black clothing of some kind was the part around the bottom of the corset, and she could not move, and certainly not walk. Her toes had complained even more, and her arms which had been held out horizontally by the steel boned gloves. At this stage, she had instructed them to lay her on the gyno-couch and that is what happened. The assistants lifted her off her feet and together placed her in the stirrups and she began to relax a little, but not for long. Without a word being spoken, the floppy empty mask appeared and had been fitted over her head and onto the choker. The back was laced up and the gag with its breathing tube inserted properly into her mouth. Then came the inflation, first of the gag which forced her mouth fully agape until her jaws began to creak. She had heard the air being forced in with each thrust on the foot pump. She had known what was happening but even so it was a surprise to feel her head being lifted off the pillow as that began to inflate also, and the world outside had become more and more remote and silent. The pressure on her face and head had also been surprising: rather more than she had expected. Only later did she discover that the assistants had pumped her head to 60 cm instead of 40 cm, and that caused the extra pressure and her immobility.

In her secluded and stationary situation, she had become aware of a new set of sensations that hadn't been planned. There were hands on her body and caressing her breasts and buttocks and she could just about feel the squeezing of hands at her waist. She did a quick count and there were more than four hands at any time. She concluded that the assistants had introduced more of their friends to this experience and they were all getting to know her body and its accoutrements. She guessed six or eight pairs of hands. This had not been part of the plan and she wondered two things. First, what she could do about it in her powerless state, and concluded nothing. Secondly, she wondered what these six or eight men would do with her – to her – over the next few hours, once her instructions had been carried out.

She had left two remaining instructions for the two assistants. The TWO assistants who now seemed to have invited every Tom, Dick and Harry to the party. She had smiled at herself in her mind, not her lips, at the thought of a Dick being invited to her party. She had wondered if there really was a Dick and if he was notable in the anatomy department. Anyway, the two remaining instructions had been carried out. First her bottom was greased and slowly probed with a small vibrator, only about ½ inch diameter. This was left to vibrate in her for a few minutes before being replaced with a slightly larger one. She'd selected a little "family" of four of them that went up to 2 inches, and the process would take an hour or more. She knew all that at the start but the finish was different from what she'd planned. Slowly the vibrators were eased into her one after the other with 5 or 10 minutes for her to relax between each one. She counted them as the man reached under the gyno-couch and gently pressed them into her. She counted two, three and four, and knew it was at an end, so that her bottom was stretched more than ever before. She liked the sensation of being opened so widely.

Then came a fifth. A FIFTH?? Where the hell had that come from? What was happening? And she'd had no means of calling out or exerting control. Anyway, the fifth one had slowly crept into her and resided there, vibrating gently for a few minutes. Then the vibrations had become more insistent and faster; then more again, until the thing was bashing around inside her and she was writhing as much as she could inside the corset and trussed up as she was. After that, she tried not to count but she'd known the sixth and seventh had gone into her and more besides, and she'd felt stretched further than any girl could be or should be. And she'd felt the intrusion right up inside her torso, inside the corset, vibrating on the lower edge of her stomach. The thing must have been ten inches long and 3 inches wide. It was held in her by some sort of tie-arrangement from her suspenders. She'd felt them tying it on in and pulling things tight. The thing wasn't going to come out by itself or by mistake, that was obvious, so it must have been meant to stay in her for a long time. She'd wondered and worried how it could be so high inside her when intestines are well known to coil around – aren't they? The sensation was scary at the same time as exciting and erotic. She creamed some more onto the tops of the boots.

The final stage had come a few minutes later. The timing she'd planned but again events got out of her control and she remembered now the anxiety and some of the discomfort. Her vagina was lubricated and nice penis shaped vibrator inserted, nicely vibrating, and nicely nestling again her clitoris. Even with the massive bulge in her bottom and the stretching in her intestines, she'd become more excited and felt her body reacting slowly towards an orgasm. After 5 minutes, the vibrator had been slowly removed and a bigger one inserted, as she'd instructed. That also fitted nicely and vibrated nicely and excited her nicely. The third and final model had also been inserted and she'd known that it was 8 inches long and 2½ inches diameter, as big as she'd ever used for herself. Alongside the bulge in her bottom, she'd feel them vibrating against each other through the membrane and known that orgasm was inevitable in a few minutes.

Of course, as she'd begun to predict and fear, the assistants hadn't stopped as instructed and had inserted more and bigger penis-vibrators into her. The fourth had stretched her more than she'd experienced and the fifth had taken two men to ease it into her. No, they didn't ease it into her; they slowly forced it into her, both leaning on the end of it until it slipped slowly but rigidly into her. She hadn't known the size of this final one, but she'd felt it must be the same size as the one up the back, in her bottom. She'd been simply impaled and stretched and had been full of vibrating machinery. And she was going wild inside her erotic prison. She'd longed for someone to touch her clitoris or massage the inside of her thighs, or squeeze her globular breasts through all the equipment that had held then in their controlled state for over two hours. No one had and she'd had no way to ask.

Now, as she lay there, at the end of all these procedures, she considered her state. Blinded and gagged. Stretched out like a rack victim by her neck, arms and legs. Crushed into the most feminine of shapes by corsetry and steel bands on her breasts. Filled to capacity and vibrated almost to orgasm by two massive vibrators. He sensations had truly been taken to the limit and she was expecting to climb towards her own orgasm slowly in her own time as the two assistants watched and enjoyed her impossible movements and sounds. Now she was thinking: TWO assistants. What about the others? Her sense of involvement and her experience of men led her to expect more and maybe worse things still to come. For a moment, she began to regret setting up this extreme experience but the pleasure between her legs and up inside her body was inexorable and compelling. She tried to empty her mind of anxiety, and to let the pleasure build.

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