Chapter 3: Preparations and Beginnings

The day went as Thomas had planned, although I found it to be a difficult time when we went to be fitted for my dungeon suit. After finding one he liked, red and silver, three mm in thickness, I went into the dressing room, stripped off my outer clothing and put it on. The suit was unlined, so it was difficult to get into, but eventually, I managed it and looked into the dressing room’s mirror. I was horrified to see that the lines of my chastity belt showed clearly and there was no way to conceal its presence. In addition, the suit was quite tight, making me feel uncomfortable and somewhat claustrophobic once it was on, but when I emerged from the dressing room and whispered to Thomas that I didn’t really like these sensations, he ignored my concerns. He spent a lot of time with the store’s owner, indicating the modifications he wished to have made to the garment and describing the manner in which he wanted it fashioned and finished. My suit was to have a full, head-covering helmet glued and sewn onto the body; there was to be a zip-on face mask with holes for my nostrils, eyes, and mouth; and the back zipper was to be modified to have a lock-type fitting that could be secured at the base of my spine. He required three other rubber-edged-apertures, and I stood blushing furiously while he indicated that there were to be two made at the level of my breasts (thus allowing them to protrude) and the third was to be in a wide triangular shape that extended from just below my pubic bone, down between my legs to the base of my spine. This last would be cut so that the top, inner, ten cm of my thighs would also be uncovered, and the rear portion would outline my buttocks, coming tightly into the crease under them. Nearly in tears, I returned to the dressing room, peeled off the tight suit, and got dressed again in my street clothing. When I returned to the main part of the store, the two of them were finalizing arrangements and I was informed that the modified suit would be ready in a week. We’d return for it then.

Unknown to me, some weeks previously, Thomas had already taken a sample of the type and thickness of the material to Michael, and he’d made allowances for the thickness in the manufacture of my restraints. Nothing had been left to chance. Two hours later, after my hair had been cut, I felt nearly naked, but over the ensuing week, I soon got used to the new style and actually began to like the lack of care that came with it.

We returned to the house where Thomas revealed another secret; one I wasn’t sure I liked at all. As soon as we were inside, he ordered me to get undressed and follow him to the kitchen, then once there; he reached into the broom closet and pulled out a length of chain. I was told to turn my back then felt the cold, steel links trail up across my flushed skin. There was a loud click at the back of my neck, and he told me that, from now on, I would always be leashed while inside the house, and if he felt like it, I would also be cuffed. Hearing this, I shivered with a delicious sensation of deepening captivity while he left me standing there for a moment and went to his study, returning with the pairs of now-separated heavy-duty cuffs, each with a short chain dangling from it. I automatically held out my hands and he quickly closed the smaller pair around my wrists, then, taking two heavy locks from his pocket, fastened the free ends of their chains to the side rings of my chastity belt. That wasn’t all though, for he knelt before me and clasped the heavy, snug shackles around my ankles, then joined their short lengths of chain with a third lock. All were quite tight, but I soon got used to the sensation of restriction, and from then on, I was never without them while in the house, and many times even had to wear them when we went out. When this happened, my cuffs were always hidden by concealing clothing.

A week later, we returned to the dive shop and immediately went to its back room where I was handed the newly modified suit. Once we were alone in the dressing room, Thomas ordered me to get undressed and remain still while he unlocked and removed my chastity belt. Once I’d taken it off, he handed me a large bottle of oily liquid and told me to rub it all over my body and neck. I did as he ordered, finding the liquid to be extremely slippery, and all the time he watched closely. I pushed my feet into the suit’s legs, and its unlined interior felt funny, but this time, it slid easily over my feet and up my legs, thanks to the slick stuff I’d covered myself with. I slopped more of the lubricant onto my body, and the suit slipped on easily while I pulled it up, blushing red from the sensation and knowledge that the insides of my upper thighs, my buttocks, and my sex were framed and so visibly displayed in the wide aperture at my crotch. It felt so strange! Next, I leant forward and slipped my hands into the sleeves and down them into the attached gloves, then slowly straightened until its torso slipped up and over my shoulders. The tough material gradually settled into place, tightening slightly while I shrugged to get the upper portion to fit more closely and with a blush, I felt my full breasts being compressed, bulging somewhat through the two undersized holes for them. They didn’t hurt, but the compression, like a bra that is too tight, was uncomfortable. For the moment, the helmet hung down in front, then Thomas unlocked my collar and ordered me to pull the helmet up over my head and face. I obeyed, and my face emerged through the aperture for it at the front, also distinctly framed by its reinforced edging. He ordered me to stand still, then moved close behind and slowly pulled the zipper closed from the crown of my head to the base of my spine and I faintly heard a small click. I was surprised by how much of the everyday sounds the suit’s helmet eliminated and felt as though I was partially deaf! Thomas had had another addition made to the helmet so that now there was a double thickness layer of sound insulation incorporated into its sides, over and around my ears! He quickly passed the (until now slightly loose) collar around my neck, locking it in place once more so that I felt its width clasping my throat with increased authority and shuddered from the sensation.

Once the suit was completely closed up, it formed very snugly to my body and he came around then stood before me, smiling happily. I was told to stand still and he reached up to gently clamp my right nipple, then slowly pulled my compressed breast out through the hole. It hurt when he grasped the tender flesh, then even more when he applied a gentle tension and I could not stop the small yelp and whine I made. However, he continued gently tugging until the fleshy mound had slid all the way through, and the suit settled even more closely onto my rib cage around the now gently constricted base of my breast.

He repeated the process on the other side, and a moment later, I felt an even brighter flush of red cover my face, feeling how my breasts were now so blatantly displayed, bouncing, and jiggling with every breath I took! That wasn’t all I felt though! The holes he’d had cut were too small for the diameter of my breasts at their base, and each aperture was designed with a narrow but thick, thick, rubber collar! These, of course, immediately tried to resume their original size, garrotting my flesh gently so that my breasts slowly began to swell with sensitising blood, turning a deeper pink in colour and making my nipples stand out in rampant arousal, demanding attention. I became totally and completely aware of myself as a female, for there was no way to avoid it.

Thomas stood back and inspected me, then ordered me to stand still while he re-applied the waistband of my chastity belt. It was even tighter than usual, thanks to the thickness of the suit, but soon, it too was firmly secured. Because of the compression of the suit and the effect it was having on my breasts, I was already wet with arousal when he ordered me to spread my legs and he immediately brought the crotch shield forward between my thighs then up over my lower belly. It was cold and I shuddered uncontrollably with sensation when he pressed it tighter over my quaking loins, shutting my eyes when the tamper proof lock clicked closed. Around the rapidly warming steel covering, my slightly bulged and exposed flesh felt very vulnerable and I could feel the shield’s edges pressing lightly into the sensitive skin of my upper thighs.

He said he wanted to see how my mask looked and so I stood still while he joined the ends of the strong, nylon zipper under my chin then carefully pulled the rubber shield up over my face. In seconds, the zippers on either side had been drawn up then across my forehead to the middle and I both heard and felt another soft click! The sensation of the thick, obscuring rubber, both pressing itself onto and completely covering my face was quite unpleasant! Too, I knew it would also hide any expression I made, acting very strongly to depersonalise me and I didn’t like that one bit. The mask quickly began to feel sticky and even more uncomfortable, but no matter how I twitched my facial muscles I couldn’t avoid the sensations. However, the zipper had been locked closed, and I was unable to pull the awful thing off or away from my skin. I’d just have to get used to it.

Thomas handed over my leather skirt and silk blouse and I sat down to put them on, wondering what was going to happen next. I desperately wanted to wear a bra to at least limit the embarrassing bobbling of my breasts, but he didn’t offer to return it and so I quickly buttoned the blouse to cover myself. Even though it was now hidden beneath the concealment of the cloying rubber mask my face was flushed red once more. The skin around my eyes and mouth was all that could be seen, for even my hands were fully gloved by the suit. It felt very strange! Next, I put on my shoes, a pair of Converse Runners, and the suit’s extra padding felt weird at first.

Thomas left the dressing room for a moment but quickly returned with a full, head covering, motorcycle helmet of the kind with the chin cover and drop-down face shield. That wasn’t all, for in his other hand he carried a thing I’d begun to hate with a passion: a harness gag with blow-up mouth filler. He silently held up the mouth balloon and I unwillingly opened for it, then he slipped the straps around my rubber-encased head and rapidly tightened the whole network. I felt that he was unnecessarily harsh with his adjustments, but soon, the un-inflated balloon was held securely within my mouth. Seconds later, he attached the filler bulb and its hose to the fitting on the wide strap that covered the whole of my lower face, then with a half dozen quick squeezes, made the bladder within swell into a hard firmness. I almost retched, feeling my tongue immobilized on the floor of my mouth, but he knew how far I could be pushed and gave the bulb yet another squeeze! A small, whistling moan was all that could be heard when I tried to protest, but then I looked at the helmet. The shield was up, and I saw that it was tinted a deep grey, supposedly to reduce the sun’s glare for the wearer, but I was absurdly glad because it would conceal the fact that I wore the dive suit and was now most thoroughly masked and gagged.

He slipped it over my head and tightened the strap under my chin, making it even more difficult for me to open my mouth, even if I wasn’t already wearing the harness gag. When he dropped the facial shield, I heard another small click and knew I be unable to raise it on my own. Next, he handed over my light leather jacket and I slipped it on. He zipped it closed right up to my chin under the helmet’s bottom edge then buckled it snugly over my steel collar. I was deeply embarrassed at being gagged in public, by the strange underclothing I wore, and the knowledge that my breasts were bouncing freely on the front of my body, but anyone who looked at me would have just assumed I was a motorcyclist ready for a run on her bike. That was his intent.

Once he was happy with the way I was dressed, we left the shop and walked hand-in-hand along the street to his car. I was terribly conscious of myself and how I looked, but none of the people we passed even stared. I looked perfectly normal! Once in the car, Thomas provided my next surprise. He said he’d already made the arrangements with Michael, and today I was to have my nipples pierced and fitted with shackles that could not be easily removed. I gasped with surprise then growing arousal, for I’d always wanted to have it done, but had never gotten up the nerve. Now, there was no choice, and it was going to happen! I shivered in my seat, hunching myself against the restriction of my new dungeon suit, feeling even more vulnerable when my swollen and sensitive breasts rubbed against each other, with my nipples sliding against the slick fabric of my blouse whenever I took a breath or exhaled.

Three quarters of an hour later, we’d returned to Thomas’ home and gone inside. He immediately instructed me to remove all of the clothes I could, but didn’t release me from the helmet, nor did he raise its visor. A moment later, he’d locked my house leash chain to the back of my collar and cuffed my hands securely to the side rings of my chastity belt, then fitted my ankle shackles and short hobble chain. Both sets of cuffs fastened more tightly than usual, having to sink into the cushioning of the suit, and so I felt their restriction even more intensely than ever before. He left me standing in the kitchen, saying he’d be back a little later with Michael then the door closed behind him. My leash was long enough that I could reach the back door, but it would not permit me to go outside, nor could I get near the front door, and so I was confined to the ground floor of the house, waiting nervously for what was soon to be done to me. There was another chain upstairs that was just as restricting, and of course, the leash in the small cell in the basement, but by now I had grown used to being limited by them.

I stood quietly for a few moments, still fully gagged and helmeted, feeling utterly foolish. My breasts bounced sensually with every breath and when I tried to walk, they swung freely from my chest, snared captives of the suit. I wanted desperately to reach up and massage them and feel my nipples, or try and shift the oppressive mask on my face, but my wrists had been strictly fastened to my waistband so that I couldn’t move them to touch myself. The slipperiness that had allowed the suit to glide over my body when I’d first put it on had begun to disappear, being slowly absorbed into my skin and the result was that the suit became more and more sticky over its entire inside, seeming to bond itself onto my skin and trapping me ever more thoroughly inside its cloying encasement. For the next hour, I shuffled distractedly around the main floor, barely able to see where I was going. I couldn’t do a thing other than stare out of the windows at the garden and world beyond, and surprisingly enough, began to enjoy this newest facet of my erotic captivity.

At last, I faintly heard the garage door open and close, and walked slowly to the back door then knelt as I was supposed to whenever he arrived. I wanted the gag out very badly, but it was not to be. Thomas and Michael came through the door, then stopped and stared at me for the longest time. I wasn’t embarrassed that Michael saw my nakedness, for that had happened many times already, but he immediately came over and cupped my ballooned, left breast, bouncing and squeezing it gently and now I did blush and whine. Still holding me, he asked Thomas if he was ready to have the piercings done then with that confirmed, Michael’s grasp on my swollen breast tightened, and I struggled to my feet when he pulled upward. Maintaining a firm grasp, he pulled me to the door of the stairwell leading to the basement. Gagged and with my head concealed inside the helmet, he could not hear my wail of distress, nor could he see my face and eyes when he’d mercilessly drawn me to my feet then after him. In the meantime, Thomas had released my leash from its ring and followed Michael and I down the stairs and into the dungeon, all the time keeping a tension on the chain to ensure I knew that I was fully a captive. Michael also maintained his firm grasp on my tender breast until we reached the room outside the small bath cell, then once inside, released me. Thomas tugged me over to the back wall and made me kneel. I was pushed toward the wall until the soles of my shoes pressed against the cement, then he bent me back and drew the chain from the rear of my collar to a wall ring, just below neck height. A lock went through a link and was immediately closed, leaving me bowed uncomfortably backward from the waist, my hands still fastened at the sides of my cinch and gagged within the locked closed helmet. In a loud voice he told me what was to come.

“Sabrina, you are going to be left precisely as you are now for an hours or so while Michael and I make the final preparations, then your nipples will be pierced and fitted with shackles. After that, you’ll be fed a small meal then remain here overnight, leashed, cuffed, gagged, and helmeted. In the morning, your regular life will resume.”

They left and did not return for a long time, for he obviously wanted me to think and worry about what was coming. All the while, I shivered, whining into the huge gag filling my mouth. I couldn’t move away from the wall, and so knelt where I was, held arched uncomfortably backward with my breasts sticking out prominently, swaying and trembling gently with every breath. I was somewhat frightened of what was to come, even though I wanted it to happen, but still spent all of my time worrying until at last they returned. Even though I couldn’t see very well thanks to the dark tint of the face shield, I struggled what little I could when they moved closer.

Thomas walked slowly into my field of vision, then, saying nothing, his hands pressed my shoulders tight to the wall. A calloused hand cupped my right breast then I felt a coldness swabbed over its apex. A second later, a blazing pain erupted at the base of my nipple and I screamed frantically into my gag while it went on and on, shaking my helmeted head frantically. I cannot really describe the sensation, for the white-hot lance seemed to be centimetres thick (but was, probably. only about three mm) and I felt it push slowly through then pull back, burning fiercely all the time. I panted as though giving birth while this was being done, for it seemed as though the needle being withdrawn was far longer than the one that had been inserted, but it was actually the straight, cross-pin of a shackle. The pain radiated away from my nipple, seeming to suffuse my entire breast, especially now that it was swollen and sensitive, constricted around its base.

My other nipple was swabbed and again, the fire erupted! More wailing pants hissed through my flared nostrils while the piercing was done, but at last it was over, or so I thought when my shoulders were released. There were some gentle manipulations at the tip of my right breast, then I felt a vibration and a small, but substantial, un-ignorable weight came on it, swinging slightly. It didn’t hurt, but I was definitely aware of the drag!

The same thing happened on my left side, then my collar leash when it was released from its shortened length and while helping me to stand, they both congratulated me on having withstood the piercing so well. My leash hung from the back of my collar to its full length of just under two metres then they left, closing and locking the barred door.

Inside, still helmeted, gagged, with my hands secured at my waist, I sank to the floor overwhelmed with the knowledge that each of my breasts now bore a shackle I would be unable to remove, no matter how I tried. I could feel their weights swinging slightly back and forth with my every breath, but couldn’t reach up and touch them!

For the longest time, I just sat and thought aimlessly, wondering at some point why I had allowed myself to become enmeshed in this life, but wanting to experience even more!