Girl on the Net

As ever, when Jenby’s name pops up in my inbox, I strap in for what is definitely gonna be a fun and kinky ride. In the past, she has treated us to such awesome stories as being a service sub stashed under the table during a poker game, being hypnotised into becoming a bimbo, as well as literally being surveilled using smart tech in one of the most creatively-horny scenes I have ever had the privilege to read about. Honestly, it’s just all absolute gold and I am honoured that Jen (@JenetalTorture on Twitter) is kind enough to share her adventures here. Today’s piece is all about being put under lock and key: trapped, teased and tortured.

Decoration piece – under lock and key

Countess hadn’t told me much. Just that I’d be receiving a late birthday present from her, and that she’d like me to bring my opaque latex hood with the integrated oral condom.

I could tell it was going to be a good night.

The dungeon was our local club. I’d suggested the outing but Countess had very much taken the reins from there, planning the evening out in minute detail, while keeping me completely in the dark…

It only dawned on me just how minutely I was to be controlled when Countess approached me moments before we set off brandishing a generously-proportioned princess plug, pink jewel set into the base, winking cheekily in the light.

The journey to the club was heavily punctuated by speed bumps, a fact of which I’m sure Countess was fully aware.

Arriving an hour later, acutely cognisant of both my amply-filled butthole and my status as Countess’s toy, I paid our entry and followed Countess through to the changing area.

Wasting no time, she ordered me to strip and unplug, before handing me an even more fiendish toy comprising a thin stem ending in a firm, weighty kegel ball. It took a lot of huffing and puffing and a not inconsiderable amount of lube to insert, and once in I could tell it would be nigh-on impossible to remove by myself.

Satisfied that I was properly plugged once more, Countess produced a bottle of latex dressing aid, and after a liberal application we poured ourselves into a pair of matching black catsuits. That’s where our similarities ended however, as Countess donned her stompiest knee-high boots, and I slipped into a pair of shiny patent leather court shoes with a suitably towering heel, to keep me on my toes both literally and metaphorically.

Even so, my Countess still dwarfed me (heart eyes).

Back in the room! The time had come for my present.

Countess commanded me to close my eyes, and before I knew it my hands were being fed into two soft, padded casings. It turns out my ‘present’ was a pair of baby pink Segufix mitts, with locking buckles to which Countess held the only key.

Easily the best birthday gift I’ve ever received. Hands down.

(Well, I mean – that’s implicit)

Next came my condom hood. Countess delighted in feeding the latex sheath into my mouth before slipping the body of the hood over my head, plunging me into darkness as the zip glided home down the back of my neck.

To hold everything in place, a collar was fastened around my neck and buckled in back. What with this and my hands safely secured in the mitts, Countess had ensured there was no way for me to remove any of my bonds under my own steam.

I was now fully encased, head to toe.

It was time.

Taking hold of my proffered mitt, Countess guided her toy, tottering nervously on its precipitous heels, into the dungeon. The thud of music permeated my head, emphasised by the total absence of my other senses, and in short order I was bent over a spanking bench having my latex-clad rear tenderised, every slither of the flogger over my shoulders or thud of the paddle on my butt sending me further and further into subspace.

When Countess deemed me ready I was hoisted to my feet and led to my final destination. A vertical cage in the corner of the club, which Countess gleefully shoved me into before closing the door behind me and locking it with a click.

I was now hopelessly trapped, a blind, fumbling rubber ornament for the delectation of whoever happened to be sharing the dungeon with us.

The rest of the evening is something of a haze. I pawed at the bars of my display case, swaying slightly as the music disoriented and my legs grew weary, eventually giving out completely. As I rolled lazily from one wall of my upright prison to the next, my face burned beneath its latex cocoon, excruciatingly aware of how my involuntary gyration must appear to my unseen onlookers.

Occasionally Countess would reach through the bars and fondle my shiny rubber form, or insert a finger or two into my mouth condom, momentarily reducing my entire world to my boobs, my butt, or my oral aperture, but for the most part she abandoned me to my isolation, leaving me perfectly alone in this crowded room, little more than an objet d’art.

Then quite suddenly, she leaned in close, and spoke into my ear.

The key was in the lock, she told me.

‘Try to get out.’

Galvanised by her words I started grappling with my padded mitts in the spot I knew the lock to be, but my labours proved fruitless.

‘Pathetic,’ came Countess’s sneering response.

It was only later that I’d learn the key wasn’t in the lock at all. Countess just wanted me to dance for her amusement. She watched me wrestle with that latch for what felt like an age, and when she finally grew tired of my desperate fumbling, she unlocked me herself. But this only led to an even more startling revelation…

So total was my lack of dexterity, that even with the cage unlocked I was still utterly incapable of freeing myself of my own volition. Countess, unable to disguise her incredulity at my complete, unhoped for helplessness, leaned in once again, and whispered that if I couldn’t get free, she’d just have to keep me here forever.

Panic coursing through me, I let out a garbled plea for permission to come.

‘Granted,’ Countess purred.

And with that I exploded in an earth-shattering hands free right where I stood, slumping into the bars of what may as well now be my casket.

It turns out it hadn’t been a good night. It had been the best night of my life.

And I hadn’t seen any of it.

Just as it ought to be.

This piece links to various bits of kink kit for your info – some of these are affiliate links/sponsor links, so if you buy through them I get kudos or cash which helps me keep this site running.