Influencers Closed System

[Author's note: this is a latex/sensory-deprivation/medical fetish story containing depictions of full latex enclosure and catheter play. Do not attempt at home, the main character depicted has the advantage of being a highly-trained medical professional as well as being fictional, and therefore not subject to physical limitations. If you are not looking for this particular type of story, please take a look at some of my other work for something more to your taste.]

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I knock and after a minute Ashley opens the door. I can tell from her face that she's apprehensive, and also there's something else, something in the way she makes direct eye contact.

"How are you?" I ask.

"Fine," she replies. "Come in, Adam."

Her eyes shift to the holdall I'm carrying. My eyes linger on her face, those honey-brown eyes in a strong, no-nonsense face. It's early still, and her dark hair cascades in a mess over her shoulders.

"We're going to need to tie that up," I say, running my hand casually through her hair as I step past her into her hallway.

"How's your week been?" I ask.

It's a loaded question. Ashley has been through hell in the last couple of years. Working all her waking hours at the hospital took its toll on her mental health and finally also her relationship. But one night after her boyfriend had been history for weeks and she was at her lowest ebb, we had a long talk and realised we had common interests.

"It's been hell," she replies, and there's a trace of a smile.

"Good," I say as we walk the length of her house into the open-plan living area at the back. "Any lapses?"

She goes over to the bi-fold doors and swings them open, admitting the warm air from her little back garden.

"Nearly," she says. "Tuesday, I got so close, but I pulled it back."

I put the bag down on the kitchen counter and unzipped it. I had chatted to her on Tuesday, talked her into a compromising position, naked on video. On the phone is always safer; it removes the temptation to abandon the plan when I see her so hot and desperate, circling her pussy lips like I told her to. I had to find some relief afterwards, I must confess. Shame about her.

"And since?" I ask.

"Last night," she says, and I can see the look of need in her face.

"Did you touch yoursef at all?"

"Yes, but I didn't go all the way. I thought it would help." She looks down, suddenly ashamed.

I take my time to admire the way her sweatshirt hangs over her breasts, above the curve of her hips in the tight grey exercise pants.

"But I'm guessing it just made you worse," I finish.

She nods. I walk towards her and lift her chin.

"Ash, I'm impressed that you made it a week. It'll be over soon," I say.

Her eyes sparkle at the prospect of release.

"Did you get what I asked for?" I say.

"Yes," she replies softly and goes to her bedroom.

When she returns, she finds me by the sink holding a tall glass of water.

"Drink up," I tell her. "Hydration is important."

She takes the glass from me and sips it, nervously.

I wait in silence for her to finish the glass, then I take it from her hand and refill it.

"And again," I say as I hand it back to her.

It takes her a minute to finish that glass. I take it and refill it.

"One more," I say as I hand it back to her.

As she drinks, I take a look at the things she's brought me from the bedroom. It's like stealing office supplies, but in her case it's a bundle of tubing and clips. I was quite intimidated the first time she showed me her secrets, but with her help I've been able to learn some basic nursing skills. I'm now probably better than any of the student nurses she complains about at work, which is very important to me because I don't want this to be ruined by a fumble on my part causing her discomfort. I see some additional items.

"Looks like you got everything," I remark, after completing my inventory.

I unplug her tall pedestal light and take it out onto her back deck. When I come back in, she's leaning against the counter watching me. I go back to the sink and take the empty glass. I fill it half-way and pass it to her.

"Drink."

She manages small sips now, but gradually I see the level decreasing in the glass. Her eyes drift down my body. I'm wearing an old t-shirt and swimshorts. When she sees the shorts I can tell that her nervousness hitches up a level.

I smile as I smooth my hand down the drip-dry fabric, and say, "I think you've figured out what I have in mind."

Ashley doesn't answer and I take her hands in mine.

"We're underway now, but if you want to stop at any time you can. Just click your fingers, or as best you can manage. I'll see that and I'll know. Okay?"

I give her a reassuring smile and receive a smile in return.

"Okay, Adam."

"Then let's begin. First, I'm rescinding your right to speak. You're going to stay silent for me unless you're in actual distress or I ask you a direct question. Okay?"

Ashley's mouth remains closed.

"That was a direct question."

"Uh, okay."

I release her hands and step back. "Remove your clothes, fold them neatly on the table," I tell her.

Ashley's hands spring into motion, pulling up her loose sweatshirt to reveal her naked torso. Of course, I think to myself, there would be no point in underwear; Ashley would have been thinking about this moment since she woke up. She peeled off her exercise pants, revealing a stocky, curvy body, the kind of body that was used to lifting dead-weights and slogging through it all day. Her crotch was waxed and hairless, as I'd told her to. She had put on a little weight since I'd first met her, but with what she'd been through, it was understandable. In a very real way, what we were doing here was the first step back to the life she'd had, before the job and the boyfriend pulled it all to pieces.

She folded the clothes neatly on her kitchen table and stood in front of me awkwardly. I let the silence drag on, adding to her discomfort.

"Hands behind your head. Turn around for me."

She complied and began to twirl on the spot as I made a show of inspecting her body. I didn't need to, I already had my plans, but it was important for her to feel the humiliation of being ordered to display herself. I needed her in the proper mindset for what I had planned next.

"Good. Now, can you get set up on the grass?"

She hesitated for a moment. I smiled reassuringly, watching her try to puzzle out what I had in mind. We had talked in general terms about what she wanted to do, but I had asked her to leave the details to me. I wasn't going to be telegraphing my moves and there were a few things I wanted her to try, things that I thought might help her along.

It takes a few minutes to set up a white plastic lawn chair on the grass, with the unplugged pedestal light next to it. I then ask her to tidy around the house, naked. In reality, there's very little to do, so I invent a job in the bathroom, scrubbing the tiles with a brush. I stand over her, supervising the menial task, ensuring she remains on her hands and knees.

"I want it clean enough to eat off."

I've picked the words carefully, and I can see she wants to ask, but she knows she's forbidden. When the job is done, I leave her kneeling on the tiles for a moment as I make a show of inspecting her work. Really, I'm just killing time, waiting for biology to take its course with all that water she drank. I look down and make a tutting noise.

"Seems you missed a bit," I say, pointing down at an admittedly pristine tile.

She bends over to inspect her handiwork.

"Better clean it up."

She reaches out for the brush, but I stop her.

"Use your tongue."

Finally, I see vestiges of resistance from the kneeling woman. Up until now, it had been easy, if mundane, but now we were approaching her boundaries. Germs are important to her; surrounded every day by sterility and disease it's gotten inside her head, driving unwanted compulsive behaviours. Licking the floor would be an almighty challenge.

Slowly, painfully, Ashley lowers her face to the floor. Her tongue creeps out from between her lips and presses against the smooth, white floor tile. She laps tentatively at the imaginary spot I had seen, her rear raised towards me, legs slightly spread to allow me a glimpse of her bare pussy. There is a little tell-tale gleam between her lips. After a minute, she pulls back to allow me to inspect her handiwork.

"Better," I tell her, "Now, over here."

I continue for a few minutes, inventing blemishes for her to lick away. I can see that she's shuffling now, beginning to show discomfort in her groin from the pressure of her bladder. I tap the side of the toilet.

"And here."

Her eyes widen, looking from my face to the white ceramic of the toilet bowl and then back to me. She stops and I grin. It's ironic, with what I'm about to do to her, that her hard limit would be licking the perfectly clean outside of her toilet. Then again, it would be mine too.

"Come on, get to it."

Ashley stares at the white porcelain, conflicted, as I wait for her resistance to ebb and the submission to take hold of her. I study her face intently, watching her self-respect crumbling as she realises she's going to do what I say. It's important that she gives in without a fight, for what is to come. Ashley sticks out her tongue and leans towards the side of the toilet bowl.

"We'll overlook that, though. Toilets aren't meant to be spotless."

I can see the relief in her face, and for a moment I wonder if I should have made her go through with it.

"Get up and follow me."

I lead the naked woman out onto the grass, noting the way that she's taking careful steps now. I make her stand in the middle of her back garden in the sunshine while I sit down on the plastic chair. It's a good garden for what we're about to do: high fences, giving privacy from the neighbours, but with enough grass to sunbathe on; not that Ashley would be working on her tan.

She's jiggling now; the water has done its work. I pat my lap.

"Come and sit."

I can see the suspicion in her eyes, and I give her a mischievous smile. She's trying to figure out what I'm doing. Reluctantly, she comes over to me and straddles my lap, facing me.

"Just relax," I tell her, "But not too much."

I press gently on her stomach and her hips wriggle with discomfort: three and a half glasses have made her very full. My hand traces down to cup her slit and I can feel the warmth of her arousal: a week of denial and mandatory edging has made her very desperate.

"It's simple," I say, "Do you want to cum?"

Ashley bites her lip and I look deep into her honey-brown eyes.

"Direct question," I prompt.

"Yes," she gasps, the first time she's been allowed to speak in half an hour, "So much."

"Then you can. Here's what I'm proposing. You're allowed to cum, but not allowed to go. If you piss in my lap, there will be consequences."

I begin to rub her slit with my palm, applying gentle pressure, warming her up. I push her shoulders backwards so that she's leaning away from me, supported by her hands on my knees behind her, displaying her breasts to me. It gives me a better angle to rub her groin and I change hand position, my fingers now pointing upwards towards her belly button. Each time I rub upwards over her warm slit, I can feel moisture slicking my palm, lubricating my skin as the heel of my hand presses upwards against her clit hood. I can already feel the little hard nub buried beneath and I twist my wrist to give her a little extra movement over that sensitive little area, making her groan.

"You could have opted for a different way to play. I bet the latex nurse option is looking pretty good about now."

Ashley closes her eyes and her mouth drops open, lost in the sensation of being masturbated. After the week that I've put her through, it must feel like heaven to be finally given the attention she's been denied. But that would be too easy. Offering to rub her with my hand is a poison chalice; on my next stroke, the heel of my hand ventures higher, over her mons to apply a little pressure into the soft flesh of her underbelly. I watch, fascinated, as her rapt expression of bliss crumples into a frown of discomfort. I slide my hand back down and repeat the process again.

"Tied up in latex on your bed, spread wide, ready for a proper fucking. Are you sure you don't want to change your mind? It would be a lot easier."

My palm is slick with her juices now and each stroke leaves her shorter of breath. I can see it's not just the way I'm building her up to climax, though, it's the supreme effort of clenching her muscles to retain her water as I press ever so gently into her distended bladder, engendering irrepressible, opposing urges within her. I quicken my tempo.

"Direct question."

She's moaning to herself, unaware that she's doing it, as she struggles to maintain control of her body. Her eyes are screwed shut, way beyond the point of answering me now, and her face contorts in torment as I bring her to the edge of her orgasm and then press into her stomach, alternating the sensations of pleasure and discomfort, rocking her back and forth over her tipping point. She cries out suddenly and I know she's building up to her peak. Her thighs are quivering against my legs, and I feel her nails digging into my knees as she fights for control. I brush my palm over her clit, making her gasp, so close now, but then I slide upwards over her juice-slicked skin and press deeply.

She shudders and cries out in anguish as I feel a warmth between my legs. Impressively, she manages to choke off her flow, her body rigid with the effort, her hips heaving on the brink of orgasm. But I have withdrawn my hand now, and she realises that she's lost, that she's not going to be allowed to cum because her bladder won out. With a deep guttural moan, she finally lets go. I feel the heat of her flow as it soaks my groin, and she lets out a long sigh as she finally empties herself all over me.

"Disappointing," I observe, "You were so close. Disappointing for me too. I'm saturated."

Ashley opens her eyes and lances me with a withering look, but remembers she can't speak. I tap her hip and reluctantly, she stands up. I stand too, feeling her warm piss dripping down my legs.

"Such a lot of it."

I pull off my t-shirt, since it's been saturated too, and strip off my shorts to stand in front of her in the nude. I can feel a slight breeze across my damp skin. Ashley's eyes never leave my face and I can see she's worried.

"Time to clean up your mess."

She frowns, looking around. I know where the towels are, I can see her working it out, but I stop her.

"No. Use your mouth."

This is her test, her limit, and I can see how much she's struggling with her command. But it is a command, not a request, and she can see that I expect to be obeyed. I watch the conflict within her, of disobeying versus the unclean act expected of her. I give her time, there is no forcing her now, she has to do this part on her own, to submit.

The naked woman in front of me hesitates but then I see the change. It starts with her eyes as they drop down to the ground, then her shoulders as they slump, and then finally her body as she sinks to her knees in the grass. Her arms reach out and I step into her embrace, feeling her hands on my buttocks and her breath across my stirring manhood. Gradually, her head moves forward, and I feel the soft contact of her lips on the tip of my cock.

I spring to life, hardening. I feel her tongue dip out of her mouth to taste me, licking at the saturated skin. Her touch is delicate, subordinate, and I know she's made the switch in her head from the brash, indomitable paramedic to the helpless submissive. Her tongue begins to lap at my skin more insistently, embracing the freedom of finally being able to give up control. I cradle the back of her head with my hands as she explores my groin, mopping up the dampness she's caused.

Ashley's mouth is roaming over my skin, unhindered, lapping up the piss until I'm clean. I let her apply herself to her task, watching her expression of rapt attention, as if there's part of her that can't believe she's being made to clean me up like this.

My cock is fully erect now, and her attention shifts back to my rigid shaft, peppering me with delicate kisses.

"Do you want to play with yourself?"

She breaks off from her exploration of my manhood to look up at me, her lovely honey-brown eyes pleading silently. I can see the need in her, how her poor, neglected pussy is still begging for that last touch to send her over the edge into a shattering, long-awaited orgasm.

"A week is a long time. Direct question," I remind her, but she's too far gone and simply nods.

"Just one finger, and slowly. You may ask to cum."

She slides a finger inside herself without hesitation, even as she wraps her other hand around my cock. I can see her finger at work, busily dipping into her entrance as her mouth opens to engulf me. She applies suction and a groan escapes my throat as I revel in the exquisite pleasure of her lips sliding over my manhood.

Ashley begins to fondle my balls, her lips sliding further and further down my shaft with each stroke until she's nearly able to take in my entire length. I can feel my tip pushing against the back of her throat, making her gag, but she's trying to take me deeper because she thinks that's what I expect of her.

I prise her hand from my scrotum and wrap her fingers around the base of my shaft, showing her that she doesn't have to go that far, just until her lips meet her hand, sucking and twirling with her tongue. I gasp as she understands and begins to suck powerfully, pulling off my tip with a lip-smacking pop.

"Please," she rasps, "May I cum?"

"Not yet," I reply, and in response she plunges back down onto me.

The feeling is intense, each lick and suck building up pressure in my balls. It's a desperate, furious action, borne of a need to satisfy the man above her and win her release. I can see the desire and despair in her eyes, now that she's able to let go of the shit in her life, how she's abandoned herself to the simple task of pleasing the one standing over her.

My cock spasms under her onslaught and I feel an irresistible urge building in my groin. She plunges onto me again, her lips meeting her hand as she sucks, and I can't hold out. I twitch and buck inside her mouth and then explode into her throat.

Ashley gags but swallows, taking my cum as I fill her mouth with my release. I can feel her tongue lapping against the sensitive underside of my head, milking me insistently until she has drunk all my seed. She withdraws, looking up at me with pride and burning need. I can see her finger again, working her clit feverishly. She grits her teeth, panting, so near to her own climax. I bend down to her eager, expectant face and kiss her gently on her furrowed brow. She waits for the command.

"Stop."

For a moment, she doesn't, her finger still sliding over her clit while her brain struggles to process my order, then her mouth opens in shock and her finger freezes. I can see that she wants to say something, to hurl abuse at me perhaps, but she's only allowed to ask the question.

"Please," she gasps, "Please, please. I need... I want to cum."

I pat her on the head.

"I know you do. Now, where am I staying tonight, have you decided on the sleeping arrangements?"

Ashley doesn't speak.

"Direct question. I thought maybe the spare room, unless you think you'd feel better sharing a bed."

I watch her mouth open and close, like a goldfish out of water, utterly unable to follow the change in conversation. Her finger remains in position, hovering over her dripping slit.

"We have all weekend, remember?" I say, then I make my way back into the house.