Chapter 42

Dana was unusually quiet for the rest of the morning, and Valerie tried to be on her best behavior, for fear of worsening the woman’s mood. Dana showered, disappeared into her office for a few hours of work. Around lunch time, she summoned Valerie to the bedroom.

Valerie had been naked ever since stripping out of her workout clothes the day before. She stood awkwardly in the bedroom while Dana inspected her. After a few uncomfortable moments, she dropped her eyes to the wood floor.

“Mistress, I— I wanted to…” Valerie began, but she was interrupted.

“Be silent.” Dana’s tone was neutral, but abrupt.

Wanted to apologize, she bit back. She was desperate to apologize, but not so desperate as to ignore a direct command.

“Hmm, yeah.” Dana stated, evidently to herself.

She busied herself behind Valerie for a few moments, who did not dare turn around to see what was happening.

“Put this on.”

Dana tossed a bundle of latex at Valerie’s feet. Valerie bent down to pick it up, and found it was one of the neck entry catsuits— more difficult to put on than a zippered one, but seamless.

Valerie accepted the bottle of silicone dressing aid that Dana held out. She hated the feeling of it on her skin, but despite that, she did really enjoy the feeling of latex.

“Yes, mistress,” she replied, nervously.

Dana’s manner was more brusque than usual, and Valerie was increasingly nervous about just what Dana planned to do with her.

“In here, or…?” Valerie asked, tentatively. Especially for more involved latex, she would normally do most of the dressing in the large walk-in shower, just to avoid splattering silicone lubricant everywhere.

“Here,” Dana replied, with a nonchalance in her voice that Valerie worried was a mask on top of cold fury. “You can clean up later.”

Valerie nodded, and began the process of dressing. She applied the dressing aid from the bottom up; the catsuit was footed, so after covering every inch of her feet and lower legs, she stepped into the latex and pulled it up, smoothing and stretching it as she went, careful not to tear the material with her nails.

Hobbled with the tangled suit around her knees, she then lubricated her thighs and continued pulling and stretching the material up her body. If she was not so anxious, she would have thoroughly enjoyed the way the material compressed and shaped her legs.

The suit proved to be crotchless, leaving her caged dick hanging free. The cage was feeling tight; just the process of pulling the latex on enough to turn her on. Her libido warred with her anxiety, but the usual cocktail of hormones that Dana had her on made the battlefield an uneven one.

Once she was sure the legs of the suit were pulled properly up, she moved on to her torso. Dana stopped her midway through— Valerie was awkwardly half-suited, with the neck of the latex garment stretched around her waist.

Dana attached adhesive eStim pads to either side of each of Valerie’s nipples, and her worry and anxiety starting to deepen into dread.

“Please, mistress, can I just—”

Dana silenced her with a gesture and a sharp sound before she could get out the word explain. She took in a shuddering breath, let it back out, and resumed her task.

She spread dressing aid across her chest, side, and torso, careful to avoid getting too much around the eStim pads.

“My back?” she asked, softly, looking to Dana for help in lubricating the harder to reach spots.

The woman was leaning against a wall, arms crossed, watching her. She shook her head no.

“Figure it out,” Dana replied, with her usual mischievous half-smile.

Valerie thought there was an air of menace to the expression.

“Yeah— yes, mistress.”

She spread as much of the dressing aid as she could on the inside of the catsuit, and drizzled it down her back, spreading it around where she could reach.

She worked the suit up until it was just under her armpits, and then pulled as much slack into the top half as she could, before awkwardly bending and twisting to get first one arm through the sleeve, and then the other; and then a little more tugging to get the sleeves settled properly up to her armpits.

She was breathing heavily from the exertion of pulling and twisting, and the air that Dana kept at a temperature comfortable for naked skin was too warm for full body latex and the exertion that entailed.

She turned back to face Dana, her breathing gradually settling down. Dana made a spin around gesture with one finger, and Valerie obediently rotated in place, letting the woman inspect her work.

“Good enough,” Dana told her, drily. “I’m going to need to work late tonight, and you’re going to keep me company.”

Valerie hoped the keep her company meant nothing more than being chained up again on the floor cushion, but she suspected something less comfortable was in store. Dana had not said anything explicitly, but Valerie felt certain that she was being — or was about to be — punished for accusing Dana of lying. She swallowed nervously and mostly succeeded at not panicking.

“Wait in my office,” Dana told her.

Valerie moved quickly to obey, thankful that she at least could walk down the stairs unhindered by locked cuffs and towering stilettos.

She waited nervously in front of Dana’s desk, feeling more than ever like a schoolchild about to be scolded. Dana entered a few moments later, carrying an unnervingly large assortment of leather and latex. She dumped all of the items on her desk, sorted through through the pile briefly, and then turned, holding a pair of long boots— ballet boots, designed to keep her feet pointed, with much of her weight transmitted through her toes.

Valerie had never worn them before, but she had seen them often enough in the erotica she once consumed; another latent desire that was out of the reach of her non-existent budget. This pair, unsurprisingly, looked well-made, high end if not custom-made for her. She did not expect this would substantially increase their comfort.

“These first,” Dana stated, handing the boots over.

Valerie slipped her feet in and laced them up, an awkward task. The first boot was easy enough, but she found that she could barely support her weight on it. She lacked the strength and balance to pull on and lace up the second one, even with the wall to lean on. Dana frowned in dissatisfaction.

“Lace it tighter,” Dana instructed her, gesturing to the already-worn boot.

Valerie did as she was instructed, pulling slack into the laces from the bottom up, and then re-tying the ends to take up the extra. Her foot felt crushed inside the boot, and her calf and instep were starting to warn that they would cramp, but she found that she was more stable, at least enough to allow Dana to slip the second boot onto her other foot, and lace it even tighter than the first.

Dana snapped steel cuffs around each ankle, ensuring the boots could not be removed before the cuffs. They were the same restraints that Lucca had used, a recognition that came with an pang of heartache. Valerie still did not know if Lucca had brought them and simply left them behind; or whether Dana had owned them the whole time, stored somewhere that Valerie had never seen.

A corset was next; not the first that Dana had given her to wear, but this one was heavier, longer, and more severe than the others; a rigid and heavily-boned leather over-bust corset that reached down to her upper hips, and promised to severely impair her mobility— though Valerie expected that whatever Dana had in store would not involve mobility, especially considering the boots that she could barely stand in.

Valerie laced herself into the corset as tight as she could, and carefully turned to allow Dana to inspect the laces. Dana tightened them further, and she was not gentle about it. Ultimately, Valerie felt like her ribs were just shy of fracture from its squeeze.

“I’ll tighten it more in a few hours,” Dana assured her.

Since the corset was new, the laces and corset material would stretch and relax as the garment broke in, over the course of a few hours. This would have been a relief, but for Dana’s promise to take up the slack.

An armbinder in similarly heavy leather was next, and Valerie’s physical discomfort was already beyond a point that she knew would be torturous. She did not have nearly the shoulder flexibility for her elbows to be bound touching behind her back, but Dana slipped the armbinder up her arms, held as close together as her body would allow, and then pulled the laces as tight as possible. Two more passes of pulling slack and taking up the excess achieved a tightness that slowly became a burning in Valerie’s shoulders and the muscles across the front of her chest.

The pile of toys that Dana had carried downstairs had dwindled, and it was small enough for Valerie to make out what awaited her— including more steel cuffs, and the tie rods that Lucca had used to secure her to the wall upstairs. It was not a great leap of imagination to presume that there were similar attachment points in the office.

Dana secured steel bands around Valerie’s waist and thighs. Without a word, she put a hand on Valerie’s chest, and pushed her gently backward against the wall of her office. Each restraint was, in turn, rigidly secured to the wall, in the same fashion Lucca had bound her upstairs.

Her legs were bound close together, almost but not quite touching. The rigid cuffs around her ankles and upper thighs meant she could not really fall, but it also meant she had absolutely no escape from the growing pain and discomfort of her feet in the ballet boots.

The waist belt was held in place by two rods running diagonally from the side of the belt back to the wall, leaving her arms free of rigid steel, but pressed lightly against the wall; she had virtually no range of motion in the armbinder.

Dana stepped over to the desk, and sorted through the last few items there— a tall leather posture collar; another steel band about the same size, clearly a collar; a latex hood; the blindfold and gag that attached to it; and a pair of over-ear headphones. She picked up the hood and turned back to the bound girl.

Valerie’s chest felt heavy and tight. The bondage was perfect— it was hot— and yet she was starting to panic. She was thinking of her ex-girlfriend Heather, and how one misplaced word with her had lead to days of fights, arguments, and abuse— punishments in effect, if not in explicit intention.

Her panic was not fear of the bondage or of Dana’s attentions, but instead that she had, in her relationship with Dana, stumbled into the same pattern that had made her last weeks and months with Heather into a waking nightmare.

“Dana,” she pleaded, her voice small— not submissive, but sad and scared. “I’m sorry. Please… Not— not like this?”