Real Life Inc

Chapter 1

I had been working for Real Life Inc. for a few months. Real Life was different things to different people. To some, it was an escort service. We also make adult videos and photo shoots, mostly on request. Some clients even visit the former armory that we used as a studio. They could get pictures or video of themselves with their favorite adult models, even bind us up, or shepherd us on a leash.

I was called to the studio for another gig. When I came in, one of the owners, Sir Flannery greeted me "Hi Cathy! Go right into the dressing room, and we'll get you set up!"

I strode into the changing room, the click of my heels echoing off the floor and walls of the historic armory. Due to a badly healed ankle injury, I invariably wore heels. My ankle couldn't bend 90 degrees; I needed to wear heels to stand or walk. Some considered my handicap to be an erotic plus.

I opened up the door to find a pair of matte black latex stockings on top of a matte black latex leotard. I could see a bit of skirt peeking out underneath. Sir Flannery followed me in, closing the door behind him. Many items that we wore required help to put on, and he enjoyed "helping" the models get dressed.

I took off the outfit I wore on the way in, folding it up neatly. Sir Flannery's eyes sparkled, and he smiled as he took in my nude body. I quickly twirled for him, allowing him to take in the sight before I got re-dressed.

This was not my first time in latex; I had learned a bit of technique. I sat down and carefully powdered the inside of the black latex stockings. My eyes blinked in surprise as I noticed the butt plug and dildo that were molded right into the stockings.

I smiled as I rolled the stockings up my legs. I smiled, enjoying the way that the latex felt on my skin, compressing me and showing off my figure. When I got to the double plug, I carefully dabbed two lines of lube on each plug. I then sensually rubbed the lube all over the dildo and the plug. I knew it looked like I was giving a hand-job to a latex penis before fucking myself with it. I was ashamed to realize that this wasn't far from the truth.

I bent over and lined up the plugs. I lined up the butt plug. Under Sir Flannery's amused gaze, I slowly wiggled it up into my ass until it was fully in. Next I tried to get the long dildo in place. I tugged and squirmed, and then the butt plug popped out. Sir Flannery chuckled. "Lean forward, start the dildo in place, and follow it up with the butt plug as you slowly stand up."

I started the tip of the dildo, feeling the lubed penis start to enter my body, spreading my lips wide. As I stood up, I started the plug to spread my anal sphincter open as well. I felt so double stuffed! Once they were firmly seated, I pulled up the waistband of the tights. One item on!

I picked up the leotard. Stepping through the leg holes felt far different with two plugs deep inside of me! I gasped and shuddered. I bent over, and my eyes fluttered from the feeling deep in my gut. I slid my hands through the sleeves. I then slowly stood up, making sure that my boobs fit into the integral cups. With a shrug to and fro, the leotard slid over my shoulders, covering my body while exhibiting it. It also guaranteed that the plugs would remain firmly and deeply buried inside of me.

The leotard was a back zipper style; so much easier for anyone other than the wearer to zip it up. I turned my back to Master Flannery. He zipped it up bit by bit. As the zipper rose, I felt the latex stretching, compressing my torso, molding it into the desired shape.

I looked over the leotard, rubbing my hands over the latex, carefully flattening out the few wrinkles until it was nice and smooth.

The final item was a pair of long skin tone latex mittens. It seemed odd for them not to match, but who am I to argue? I powdered up the inside of both. It seemed that the right hand, and struggled and squirmed my hand into it until it enveloped my arm. The mitten forced my fingers together as one, leaving me with more of a crude claw than a hand. The mitten was thick rubber; it was tough to try to move through it. I fumbled around with my capable hand and awkwardly managed to buckle the delicate looking strap around my wrist.

Sir Flannery smiled and held up the other mitten. I pulled it over my hand. This mitten was truly unique. It had a separate thumb, a separate forefinger, and the other three fingers were squeezed together in a mitten. He buckled the strap around my wrist, eliminating any hope I had of remove these mittens without help.

Sir Flannery took the polishing cloth and lovingly ran it over my legs, going up and down, all around, getting them all shiny. This was a man who embraced his passion and his work. He progressed up my body, enjoying the feel of my ass through the latex as he spent a long time on it. He polished my back, starting at my waist and working up. It felt like an erotic massage.

He ran the polishing cloth up and down my arms, getting the restrictive gloves so shiny that he was looking at his own reflection.

He looked at me with the hunger of a tiger about to pounce as he focused his attention to my chest. I saw his eyes glaze over as he rubbed and caressed my boobs. Sir Flannery was transfixed by them and kept polishing and polishing. I thought he was going to orgasm! At the last moment, he pulled himself away. He was done, and I could see the reflection of every light showing off my curves.

Sir Flannery held up a skin tone latex panel gag. This one was a lot taller than most; it was like an oversized neck corset. There was no use in arguing, it was going on one way or another. He called out "Open wide!" I was rewarded with Sir Flannery sliding the squishy plug at the front of the gag into my mouth. I felt like I was being forced to suck on an oversized flaccid penis. I couldn't get a word in edgewise. He smoothed panel gag along my cheeks. As he zipped it in place top to bottom behind my neck, I felt it squeezing the plug even deeper into my mouth.

When the zipper was all the way down my neck, I felt him fiddle with the zipper of the gag and the zipper of the leotard. I heard the distinctive "click" of a lock. I guess I would be gagged in the latex outfit until he decided otherwise! I felt so silent and helpless.

Sir Flannery directed me to put my heels back on, and led me out to a car. I was surprised when I was led to the driver's seat. I expected to be tossed in the trunk and delivered to some undisclosed location.

Looking in the car, the driver's seat had been modified. It seemed to be only half the width of my torso. At Sir Flannery's gesture, I nervously down in the driver's seat, well aware that I wasn't genuinely in charge of this operation. Sir Flannery stooped down and took off my shoes. He pulled a very large shoebox from the back seat. He opened it up, grinning ear to ear. Inside the box was a pair of black knee-high boots. What drew my eye was the wicked heel on them. The heels were as long as my foot! He guided my foot into the boots and started lacing them around my feet. Around and around the laces went, securing the boots more and more around my feet and shins. The boots fit comfortably around my foot but totally immobilized my ankle in an en-pointe position. I was experienced in wearing heels, but I knew there was no way I could balance in them for long. These boots weren't made for walking.

Sir Flannery pulled out a roll of wide black tape. He guided my hands around the steering wheel, then started wrapping my hands with the tape. He went around again and again, melding my hand to the steering wheel as one. Only my one finger on my right hand remained free. At that point I understood I would need that for the turn signal. Everything else had become one with the steering wheel.

Subsequently, Sir Flannery got in the back seat. I felt him wrap a corset around my waist from behind me. He didn't thread the corset between my back and the car seat but started to tighten it anyway. I was confused. This isn't how a corset should fit! Tighter and tighter it got, forcing my torso into the car seat. My boobs started to heave with every breath as my torso was securely melded into the car seat, becoming as one. Sir Flannery tied off the laces behind the seat. I was helplessly trapped in the so-called driver's seat.

Madame Flannery came into my view. She started brushing some concealer along the seam of the gag and my cheek. She worked blending the edge of the latex in with my skin, brushing and filling as she saw fit. She followed it up drawing in some lips with her ruby red lipstick. I looked in the rearview mirror, but couldn't get an angle to see myself. I had little clue how I really looked.

Once they were done, they ogled me for a bit. They nodded smiled. "OK. You are to go to 142 Busk Road. You will be driving Mr. Cooper to the airport. Then come back here. Have a pleasant trip!" With that, they turned on the car and went inside.

It felt utterly surreal. I could drive freely, but I physically couldn't escape the car. I was the captain of my own mobile prison. I carefully drove to the address. It was a bed and breakfast place. I honked the horn with my free finger. I waited. After a few minutes, I honked again. After another few minutes, a middle-aged man came out, pulling two suitcases. He looked upset. He opened the door and started to rip into me. "What the hell! Madame Flannery promises me" He put on a mocking Irish accent to imitate her as he continued "Something special to bring you to the airport". His voice reverted back to his own as he continued his tirade, working himself up more and more as his tirade continued. And what do I get? You! You didn't come to the door. You didn't carry my bags! You didn't open the door for me. Special? You are far below an Uber! You know, I should" He stopped mid-sentence as he looked at me. I looked back at him, terrified and silently begging with my wide doe eyes.

After a few awkward moments, he asked in a more relaxed tone "Are you gagged?"

I timidly nodded.

His eyes fluttered as if his brain was taking in the new information and trying to make sense of it. He peered at me closer. "And the corset binds you to the seat?"

I meekly nodded and half-heartedly pulled at my arms. All I did was highlight my utter inability to remove my hands from the steering wheel. At that, he broke into a smile. "Well now the tight of a helplessly tied gorgeous chauffeur IS special!"

He eagerly tossed his bags in the back seat and got in the front seat "Take the scenic route. I have time to take in the sights before my flight!

Chapter 2

I was called for another gig at Real Life. Gigs at Real Life were always an adventure; they never informed the models what was planned such that they could film honest reactions.

Sir Flannery welcomed me in, shutting the door behind me. He smiled as he triumphantly bellowed. "Time to strip!" He loved watching me disrobe at his command. He was waiting present what I was to wear only once I was naked.

I took off my blouse, smiling as his eyes bugged out at the sight of my boobs, lifted and presented by my bra. I took his stare as a compliment! After my blouse was properly folded, I unhooked my skirt, letting it drop around my ankles. That was folded on top of my blouse. Sir Flannery looked like a kid in a candy store as I hooked my fingers in the waistline of my red satin panties, sliding them down and stepping out of them. I twirled for show, unfastened my bra, letting the girls go free. Only then did I sit. I leaned over to unbuckle the delicate straps that looped around my ankles to fasten my heels to my feet.

Sir Flannery set up a pile of clothing. The top item was a pair of shiny black latex panties. I put on a smile for show as put my legs through the leg holes. As I slid them up my legs, I saw that the panties featured a built-in vibrator. My smile turned genuine; I was going to have fun this gig! I got it firmly seated and made a show of wiggling it playfully.

The next item on the pile was a white neck-entry body stocking. I stepped in, and rolled it up my legs, making sure that the seam was straight up the back of my legs. I ran my hands up and down my legs, enjoying the sheer feel and the decadent way that the light glistened off of them. These weren't the cheap dollar store nylons; these were high quality silky smooth goodness. Glossy stockings truly show off a woman's curves. I slid my arms through the armholes and wiggled the body stocking up my body, coating myself in the brightly shining white nylon. Sir Flannery stared at my boobs, apparently dumbfounded. As Rita Rudner said, "a woman having large breasts make men stupid."

I slowly wiggled my boobs back and forth, feeling like a hypnotist dangling a medallion. It look Sir Flannery a while to pop out of his boob trance. He smiled, still partially mesmerized. He reached over and presented me with a ridiculously oversized shoe box. I was intrigued. I opened it up and saw the highest pair of boots I had ever seen. .The heels were towering, and the boots would continue all the way up to my crotch! They looked truly exquisite in buttery soft black leather. I slid one onto my foot, enjoying the feel as they slid over my stockings. The laces went all the way from my ankle up the outside of my leg to my thigh. I pulled the laces through the hooks, molding the boot to my leg. I continued up the outside of my leg, almost to my hip. I repeated it on the other boot, getting a matching pair of very high fetish boots firmly secured to my legs. I went back to the bottom of the laces again, working out the slack that develops with such long laces. Once both were nice and snug, I stood up on them and took a walk around the chair. The heels were particularly tall, but I was experienced enough to walk in them if I kept my mind on it.

Sir Flannery handed me a dress, covered in an opaque laundry bag. I took off the bag, and my eyes went wide. The dress was made of black leather, and was heavily re-enforced with thick steel stays throughout the whole length like a corset. This was a truly formidable garment. It would cover from well over my boobs down to my ankles. The laces that ran in back top to bottom. They were already pre-loosened, as if to invite me in.

I wriggled my way into the dress, shifting it to get it to sit right on my hips and boobs. I turned my back to Sir Flannery. This is one garment that needs a willing helper to put on. He started by pulling the wide straps from the top of the back of the dress under my armpits, in front of my shoulders, and then over them. He then drew the straps back, pulling my shoulders with them. Sir Flannery buckled the straps in place, holding my shoulders firmly back. I realized that it wasn't so much pulling my shoulders back as making me hold a posture that thrust my boobs out.

Sir Flannery pulled the laces of the dress starting at the top, working his way down. As the laces tightened, it felt like a pleasant hug. I felt it cinching in my waist, giving me an even better figure than I naturally had. He laced his way down, forcing my thighs together. He worked down my legs, tightening the hobble skirt into place all the way down. As it had no slit, it was going to be very tough to walk in. He then tied it off behind my ankles.

I took a few tentative steps. I could only barely shuffle. It would take a long time for me to get anywhere. The boning was so long and stiff that I couldn't bend over. I couldn't bend my knees. Anything on the floor was lost from my world. Sitting in the chair was totally out of the question.

Sir Flannery handed me a black latex open-faced hood. I pulled it over my head, popping my face out of the hole. I smoothed it out over my hair and convinced myself that I looked lovely in it.

"Open wide!" I promptly opened my mouth, and Sir Flannery shoved something in my gaping hole. As soon as he let go, it expanded to totally stuff my mouth. The sponge was so firm that unless I strained, my mouth would held open.

Sir Flannery smiled at my forced look of surprise. He held up a roll of flesh colored duct tape. He started it on my cheek and wrapped it in front of my mouth just under my nose, stuffing the bits of sponge further into my mouth. He continued to the other cheek, behind my head, the over the sponge again. The second pass shoved the sponge deeply and firmly in my mouth. He ripped the tape off there. I tried moving my tongue, but it was totally pinned by the sponge. The sponge filled every nook and cranny in my mouth; speech was out of the question.

Sir Flannery commenced the next layer of tape on my cheek. He firmly pushed up on my chin, helping me to shut my mouth. He then ran the tape under my chin toward the back of my jaw near my neck. He kept wrapping over the top of my head, coming down the other side. The next pass was middle of the jaw, and then a bit farther back over the top of my head. The next was bottom of my chin and farther back on my head. He kept wrapping around the front for pass after pass along the front of my chin. The next pass was across my mouth, and he did one more pass for good measure up to the bottom of my nose. My head was thoroughly mummified. The pressure in my mouth was pushing at my jaw, which made the tape all the tighter.

Sir Flannery looked pleased with his handiwork. "So, what do you think? Are you comfortable so far? What do you think your assignment will be?"

I started mumbling about how I was excited that I had no idea what I would be doing. It was invariably such a thrill to discover what the creative minds at Real Life had come up with.

Sir Flannery listened intently as I rambled on my monologue. After a few minutes, he nodded. "Yeah, I'm sure that whatever you said was truly deep and philosophical. I couldn't decipher a word of it."

I chuckled. Even though Sir Flannery likely had developed good understanding gag-speak through the years, there was no way I could do more than hum with my mouth this stuffed.

Sir Flannery handed me a latex hood of a female face. I positioned it over my head, lining it up with my facial features. The eyeholes were a bit smaller than my own eyes, limiting my vision to tunnel vision. I could look straight ahead, but diverting my eyes was pointless and I lacked any peripheral vision.

Once I coaxed it in place, the hood fit pretty well. I drew the zipper down the back of my head and neck, sealing myself in.

Sir Flannery said, "Hold still." My hearing was muffled through the hoods and tape. I would have to really concentrate to notice anything. He fidgetted with attaching a playfully purple wig on my head, using tape to hold it in place.

Sir Flannery circled behind me and started working the laces of the corset dress again, cinching it up even tighter. I panted through my nose as he pulled on the laces, drawing the thick black leather firmly around my chest. He tightened the laces as he made his way down my back, working any last bit of slack out of them.

He worked his way down to my waist, cinching it in like a diet never could. I felt the rigidity of the boning all the more. I couldn't bend a bit. He tightened the laces going down my leg, coaxing any slack that he could, prying at the strong cords. The more he pulled the laces, the farther my legs were glued together. He finally tied off the laces again at my ankles. I felt a flap being pulled over the laces. He zipped it up, starting at ankles all the way up my legs. He continued over my butt and up my torso. Once the zipper was up at the base of my neck, I felt him fiddle with a lock on the zipper. Then another tug to jerk it up a bit more, straining and then latched it onto the zipper from the hood. With a tiny click, I knew I was sealed into this outfit. Sir Flannery loved sealing me into fetish outfits.