The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

This story is ostensibly one about hypnosis and mind control, although the hypnosis in this is something that will probably have to be searched out a bit. I would hope that the mind control portion is a bit more obvious to the reader. I have no one to thank specifically for inspiration for this story, as it is basically a written-out fantasy of mine, one that I have had in one way, shape, or form since I was 16. But I would like to note that Kittiara created something close to this almost three years ago in her wonderful animal universe series, “Tanj’s Tales”, on Leviticus’ site…a very enjoyable piece of reading for me. I’m sure there are stories much like this one out there, but I am not currently aware of them.

Warning: All sexual practices regarding asphyxiation and reduced blood flow to the brain are horrifically dangerous and should not be practiced. THIS is a fictional story. ‘Nuf said…

* * *

A GIFT BEYOND IMAGINING

by flibinite

Sharon stood there naked in front of her bathroom mirror, her shoulder-length light brown hair almost dry now, debating what to wear now that her shower was finished. It was looking to be a bit of a chilly night in Los Angeles, but the day had been warm and she had forgotten to let the AC run while she was at work, so her apartment was still rather hot. The hair dryer wasn’t helping any either, so she was thinking perhaps just a halter-top and shorts for now. She was hungry, too, and ready for dinner. But what to eat?

“Life is just one decision after another, isn’t it?” she thought, wondering what was even left in the ‘fridge.

She stared at herself in the mirror as she worked her hair. Maybe at 28 years old she wasn’t quite over the hill yet, with her athletic, 5′ 9″ body in very good shape from the mandatory workouts she attended for her job. Sharon was not excessively vain, but did consider herself fairly attractive, and thought she had pretty nice hair and rather killer eyes and lips.

As she finished drying her hair with her left hand, she let her free hand momentarily caress her breast, shivering a little at her own touch, noting that her tits were still large and firm, still years from developing any noticeable sag (she hoped). She slid her hand over the soft skin about her breasts, touching a few of the freckles that she still had there. She ended her examination of her own body by tracing the top of her very definitive tan line with a long nail. No, I’m not that bad at all.

“So why aren’t you getting any lately?” she said aloud to her reflection, sighing as she shut off the dryer and put it down on the corner of the sink.

Sharon pretty much knew the answer to her own question though, thinking back through the last few months as she fluffed and picked at her hair a bit more. As a teenager and even through college, she had been decidedly straight, a bit of a flirt, picking up boys willy-nilly and assuaging her rather strong sexual desires whenever she wanted. But ever since that drunken graduation party, when she and Amelia Wilson had slipped off and made love in the jacuzzi, she had realized that she was attracted to women as well. It was almost unnerving how in the past six months the shift in her desires had become even more pronounced, at least in her mind if not so much in physical fact. She didn’t quite consider herself a lesbian yet, but it was looking more and more to her like that’s what she was headed for.

Dropping her arms down to her sides, she continued to stare at her reflection. “Maybe I should just take the plunge,” she thought, “and head for a lesbian dance club or something.” She hadn’t found anyone at work yet that she was attracted to enough, that swung in her direction at least. In fact, if it weren’t for the occasional visits from an old college girlfriend and her frequent masturbatory sessions while on the computer, she doubted if she could have made it through the past five months without going sexually crazy.

She thought about Vanessa for a second, and the hot online sessions they had been having, the two rather intense times they had fooled around over the phone, shivering as she remembered the other’s sexy alto voice softly telling her what to do, where to do it, and for how long. Letting the shiver slowly fade away, Sharon was once again sorry that the two of them lived on opposite sides of the country. Vanessa was VERY sexually oriented, especially the past two months or so, and seemed to know just what buttons Sharon liked pushed and how hard to push them.

Sharon had found herself starting to explore new aspects of her sexuality and sexual fantasies under Vanessa’s gentle prodding, feeding off Vanessa’s relentless imagination. If her friend’s picture was to be believed, she was hot, too…slim of hips and waist but with lovely, full breasts. Sharon wasn’t sure what turned her on more though…Vanessa’s hot bod, or her pouty lips and long, luscious raven hair. Whatever the case, Vanessa’s seductive charms had seemed to almost leap out of the picture and grab at her.

She sighed again, wishing things were different. But both of them had their own lives and careers and friends, and the idea of them ever being together for real was probably just a pipe dream, at least for the foreseeable future.

Sharon looked down at her body in the mirror, almost embarrassed to realize that she had been fondling herself while her mind had been drifting off about Vanessa. It didn’t really surprise her all that much though. She had a pretty wicked imagination of her own, and any number of kinks and fetishes that would often come unbidden to her mind...occasionally at the most inopportune times. Sharon smiled at herself and turned away from the sink to go put some clothes on and make herself something to eat.

As she did, Sharon again thought about that rather enigmatic letter from Vanessa that she had found in her email inbasket this morning, wondering for the twentieth time what that was all about.

She had brought up her Hotmail account, seen she had one new letter, and felt her normal thrill when she saw it was from Vanessa, wondering if it was another of her slutty and salacious “specials”. But she had been a bit stunned when she saw the subject staring at her in all caps, leaving no room for doubt.

“DO NOT READ THIS UNTIL GIFT ARRIVES!!…” it had said, and Sharon had honored that request so far, even though curiosity was definitely killing her cat (and sending the occasional odd shiver to her, well...kitty).

She had only taken about three steps into the living area when the doorbell rang, startling her. Thinking, “Oh, wonderful timing, as per”, she zipped back into the bathroom to reach behind the door and grab her white terrycloth bathrobe. She pulled it on as she walked toward the front door, covering herself and trying to tie the sash as she moved, hearing the doorbell chimes go off again.

“COMING, COMING…sheesh, keep your shirt on already.” She muttered the last part as she approached the door, but then called aloud again as she leaned in to do that one-eyed thing through the peephole.

“WHO IS IT?”

“UPS,” came the muffled reply through the door. She had guessed that, seeing the familiar brown hat and shirt through the door lens, and was already reaching down to turn the knob and open the door. She opened it as far as the sturdy chain would allow, leaning sideways until just part of her face showed through the three-inch gap. For obvious reasons Sharon did not want to be seen in just her robe at the moment.

“Yes?”

“Package for you ma’am,” stated the rather studly young man on the other side of the door. He was staring at Sharon with a rather bland expression, clipboard in one hand and a brown, wrapped package, about the size of a dress box, in the other. Sharon eyed him carefully, trying to make out if he was the real deal, as one couldn’t be too careful in Los Angeles these days.

She was a cop, and she knew about such things.

She wasn’t a detective yet, or even a beat officer, but she did have her ongoing and mandatory weapons and physical defense training, those twice-weekly gym workouts. So, just because she worked in the L.A. County Forensic Lab instead of “on the streets”, didn’t mean that she wasn’t developing a cop’s mentality and instincts.

And though he looked entirely copasetic, looked good, in fact…tall, handsome, and well-built to the point that she was having major second thoughts about her “keep your shirt on” comment…she decided on the safe-then-sorry approach.

“I’m sorry, UPS guy, but I’m not exactly decent here. Would you mind trying to slide the package through the door opening?”

She watched him suddenly smile...great teeth, too…probably an unemployed actor…knowing just what he was thinking, but not really caring. Let him think all he wanted.

“Umm…yes ma’am, we can try that, but first you have to sign off that I gave it to you.”

“Ok, fine. Just shove your clipboard in here and show me where my Jane Hancock goes.”

She saw his grin widen, realizing that “Hancock” might not have been the most appropriate choice of words just now. But he didn’t say anything as he whipped a pen out of his breast pocket, crossed something on the papers on the clipboard, and then slid it and the pen through the crack in the door.

“Just sign on the “X”, ma’am.”

Sharon grabbed both items, did that ridiculous thing that people do of clicking and re-clicking an already clicked ballpoint, then scrawled her name where indicated and slid them back through the door.

“There…can I have my package now, please?”

She watched his smile change into something more…smirky. “What if I don’t give it to you until you show me what you consider “not decent”, Sharon?”

She indulged him with a small smile, pressed her face deeper into the opening, and half-whispered, “Because if you don’t give it to me this instant, Damon (he wasn’t the only one that could read a clipboard), I’m going to call up your supervisor and tell them that you’ve been jerking around with a customer, and trying to see her naked.” Then she turned her smile into something more…angelic.

“Now be a dear, give me my package, and move it on down the line. Ok, Damon?” She kept her expression sweet and innocent, noting he wasn’t buying into her threat at all.

“Yes, ma’am, sorry ma’am, my mistake, ma’am,” he said with a rueful grin, just managing to work the package through the narrow opening in the door, Sharon helping him and pulling it through all the way.

“Enjoy your, umm, box, ma’am,” Damon said with another smirk and a tip of his cap, just before he moved out of her line of sight and down the hallway. Sharon closed the door with a soft laugh and took herself and the package over to the sofa. She sat down and began examining it, hoping it was Vanessa’s gift.

It was. Sharon knew that right away when she saw the mailing address of Albany, New York, knowing that Vanessa lived in an Albany suburb and worked in the State Capitol Building there. As she tore the packaging off the box she wondered what it could be, thinking that, as it was a dress box, maybe it was an item of clothing for her. Throwing the paper to the side, she sat it on her lap and worked the lid off with both hands. She threw that onto the sofa next to her as well and peered into the opened box.

She still couldn’t see her gift though, a page of newspaper covering whatever it was. Moreover, there was a large, handwritten note lying on top of that, apparently for Sharon to look at first. She read it, amused at her friend’s little games…

“STOP! Put your gift on right now (don’t worry, it WILL fit you), then go to your comp and read my letter, IMMEDIATELY!!” This was followed by a whole bunch of hand-drawn smiley faces and “(the page under this one is the “instructions” for your gift. DON’T lose those! You can read them later, after you read my letter…)”.

Sharon pulled the second page out from under Vanessa’s note and glanced at it. It was a printed form of some kind, and she saw headings such as “Care and Use”, “General Agreements”, “Restrictions and Limitations” down along the left margin. She didn’t bother to read any of it as per Vanessa’s instructions (she was always a bit surprised at the tingle it gave her to do whatever Vanessa told her to do), but put it in the box lid instead, along with her note, for future perusal. Then she pulled off the newspaper and looked at her gift for the first time.

It looked like a one-piece bathing suit, made of some kind of soft, semi-shiny material, something that felt good to her hand. It was a medium-dark shade of tan, her favorite color, though one she didn’t wear that often this time of year, for obvious reasons. She lifted the thing out of the box and stared at it, noticing that it had almost no smell at all yet somehow seemed to smell very good. This confused her for a moment, as did its small size and the thickness of the material, whatever it was. “How can I ever fit into this comfortably no matter how stretchy this material is?” she thought. But she had trusted Vanessa so far, so why not still?

She put the box on the floor and stood up, holding the suit. Still staring at it, Sharon unknotted and opened her bathrobe one-handed, shucking out of it and letting it drop behind her onto the sofa. She held the suit out at arm’s length, turning it and examining the style (what little there was of it). It was really about as basic a swimsuit as one could get...medium-width straps, a slightly open back, looking to show a bit of cleavage…nothing at all scandalous by today’s standards. Even the way the bottom was cut seemed to be of intermediate severity. Sharon frowned slightly, thinking that her gift was not really all that sexy, at least not considering what she had expected from Vanessa.

“Actually, the whole thing, outside of how it feels, is pretty darn average,” she thought, surprised at how disappointed she felt.

But she decided she had to at least try it on, see how it actually looked on her. If I can even get into it!

Sharon adjusted the suit in her hands, her smile returning somewhat when she noted that it was not even lined. She stepped into it slowly, working it up her body, feeling it pressing into her ass and crotch as she pulled up on it, trying to get it to fit her, still knowing that it was going to be too small.

But she was wrong. The suit stretched and stretched…very easily in fact…the material starting to thin out, to smooth and cling to her body from hips to sides to breasts, the half inch-wide straps sliding nicely up her arms and onto her shoulders. Sharon let her hands drop down to her stomach, touching and rubbing the material there, feeling the suit gently pressing against her everywhere. It was tight, yet not tight, and incredibly comfortable on her.

She sighed, liking her gift much better now, but still unsure what the material under her fingers and hands was made of. It felt like a combination of cotton, some stretch synthetic, and warm latex, but she couldn’t really be sure. It was very smooth to the touch, but with a bit of porosity to it that she could just barely feel.

And not very sexy? She laughed and instantly changed her mind about that when she looked down and saw how the suit seemed to cup and lift her breasts, how easy it was to see her nipples through it now that the stretched material had become so thin and tight against her.

She didn’t stop laughing either when she looked lower and noted that the outline of her sex would be easily and completely discernable to anyone that cared to look between her thighs. She also knew to a certainty now why this particular “look” was referred to as a “camel toe”.

“Trust Vanessa to give me something this slutty,” she thought. “I can’t wear this anywhere unless I can line it somehow. But dang it…that would ruin this great fit and feel!” Remembering Vanessa’s letter suddenly, she moved off toward her computer, her new swimsuit hugging her and moving with her like the proverbial second skin.

God,” she thought, “This is just delicious…it’s like the thing is massaging me when I walk. I’ve GOT to figure out a place I can wear this.”

Sharon sat down in her comp chair and pushed the mouse, the blackened screen coming to life. She fired up her browser and brought up her email account, clicking on Vanessa’s letter when she got there, glad that much of the mystery was finally over, and anxious to see what her long-distance friend had to say about this.

The letter appeared on her screen and she began to read.

* * *
Dear Sharon –

Hi, sweetness, how are you? Now…if you haven’t put your gift on yet, DO IT RIGHT NOW…I’ll wait (and don’t you dare read farther down).

Ok…all done? Great, now let’s get started.

Happy Birthday!! I know, I know, it’s not until next week, but I just couldn’t wait, and maybe you’ll know why a bit better when I tell you about my gift to you, about how I came to get it for you. This is going to be hard to explain correctly, especially without scaring you some, but here goes.

First off, please know two things, Sharon. 1) I have a suit exactly like yours (though mine is metallic blue). I’ve had it and been able to wear it for almost three months, and it is inarguably the most fantastic gift I’ve ever received. I hope you feel the same way too in a little while. 2) As I explain what it is and what it “does”, you MUST, YOU HAVE TO, realize that it is PERFECTLY AND TOTALLY SAFE!! Ok? Did I stress that enough for you? Always remember, whatever happens now and down the road, that what you are wearing now is really, honestly, the safest thing in the world.

Now please remember that as I go on…

Are you beginning to notice how wonderful it feels to wear it, Sharon, how it is a perfect, sensuous fit, hugging you tightly, yet with no pulling or strain at all, like you could wear it for hours and hours without it being a bother, with it actually making you feel better, more athletic, more alive? I’m sure you must have noticed how soft it feels against your skin, how smooth…a bit warm, but comfortably so, like another warm body laying against you in bed, well…you know…AFTER??

Are you starting to get a bit aroused, Sharon, with how and where it touches and caresses you? Hmmm?

Ok, good. But for the moment stop thinking sexual things, and concentrate on what I’m writing here very closely…That’s an order, sweetness! Settle down for a minute and listen.

Ok, here’s the sitch…What you’re wearing, what feels so good and wonderful on you, is really something very special, something that took years and years of research and tinkering to make so perfect (I had nothing to do with it, btw, as mine was just a gift to me from a friend…But one really has to learn all about it to use it correctly, so you find out these things as you go along. I’m giving you all this great information upfront. Say “Thank you, Vanessa”). Ok, here it is all in a rush, Sharon. Read this next paragraph very slowly and carefully, and remember, DON’T BE SCARED. It’s totally, wonderfully all right, and I guarantee that on my mother’s life. OK?!

What you’re wearing is basically a quasi-life form, a product of genetic engineering, something that is part synthetic, part flora, and part fauna. It has a very rudimentary intelligence of its own, but is only capable of “doing” four things, of which I will only tell you three right now. It sleeps, it eats, and it reads. Now just relax, no matter what you’re feeling, and read on.

Right now it should be sleeping, maybe looking to eat. I’m sure that is on hold for a minute, Sharon, given the fact that I KNOW you are a bit scared, wondering if you should take it off, but not wanting to because you trust me, trust what I am saying, and the suit feels just so damn good on you. But leave it on, and you will have all your answers, all your fears will be assuaged, in just a couple more minutes. Please God trust me on this, just this one time.

You know I love you, don’t you, that I fought like crazy to get you this gift, as it simply is the most incredible thing in the world. Ackk, I digress…to quickly continue.

It’s sleeping, Sharon, looking to eat. And when it eats, it READS. What does it read, you ask? Well, it reads your mind. Now relax again, sweetness. It doesn’t really read your mind, though you will think it does. It reads your muscle movements (even the tiniest ones), your skin, your heart rate…almost every physical aspect of your body.

Now why does it do that? Well, to feed. Look, straight dope here. It’s a symbiote, Sharon, and in order to live for any length of time it has to feed, and what it feeds on, has been created to feed on, is a woman’s bodily, liquid secretions. Any or all of them. Its real food is vaginal juices and cum (its favorite…are you starting to get the picture here finally?), but will process that Winston Churchill thing, too…blood (of any kind), sweat, and tears, even urine in a pinch. And that’s why it is totally safe to wear, hon, why I can guarantee it so completely. For here is the one thing you must never forget…

It’s a symbiote, a life form…It lives FOR you and dies WITHOUT you. As such, it does everything in its power to HELP you, to keep you SAFE, to make you feel GOOD. It is completely and totally INCAPABLE of hurting you in any way, and because it CAN read you, it knows if you are feeling good or bad, happy or sad, scared or relaxed, aroused or not aroused. It KNOWS if and when it is helping you or hurting you. And if it should ever hurt you it would be hurting itself, and it just CAN’T do that.

Please excuse all my “yelling” there, but you need to know that this isn’t a “conscious” decision on the suit’s part, not at all. It simply is the way it IS. I have been assured by the manufacturer that it has no thoughts, no emotions, no anything. It simply exists to sleep and eat and read its “owner” (that would be YOU now, Sharon), to keep its owner happy and safe (more on that later, where I’ll give you some incredible examples of that).

What you are wearing now is technically known as “The Company’s” (sorry, I don’t know their real name, and NO, I don’t mean the CIA) first in a long line of Symbiotically-Activated Kinesthetic Clothing, or SACK, er…SAKC for short. Go ahead and laugh Sharon, really. I did. But I’ll tell you, when two of us woman that own them get together, we talk about “being in the sack” almost reverently, and hopefully you’ll find out why in a second.

Ok, all set here, Sharon…not afraid at all I hope? Because this is where it gets good, here is where I tell you about that other thing it does. You know, I said there were FOUR things but only mentioned THREE? Well, the fourth thing it does, if you haven’t stumbled onto this already, Sharon, is that it MOVES, it changes shape. Now be of stout heart for another 30 seconds and I’ll show you why that aspect of it makes the suit the absolutely incredible thing that it is, especially for women like us that have lots of kinks and funky fetishes.

The SACK likes to feed, Sharon, needs to feed at least once a day, but preferably twice. And as I said, its primary food is female sexual juices, dear, and to that end, WHEN YOU WANT IT TO (not on its own volition), it will try to do everything it can to increase the “volume” of said fluids. And as it can change shape, move, and read what you are feeling, which allows it to act like a perfect sexual bio-feedback machine, it can make things very interesting. Aww hell, it is the most erotic and sexually satisfying thing you will every feel, sweetness.

Are you getting aroused now? Is the sack starting to wake up again? Can you feel it undulating, pulsing against your slit now as you start to get wet? It’s feeling you out, Sharon, sensing your arousal, doing little things almost randomly to see what you like, see what makes you feel the hottest. Do you like how it seems to massage your labia, pull and tease them? Fantastic, isn’t it?

But this is where the “reading minds” thing comes in. Its reactions to your feelings and your sub-vocalizations and microscopic muscle movements and skin sensitivities are so perfect that it just…Well, let’s you and I play a little game now, sweetness. The “pink elephant” game...

Now, no matter what you do, DON’T think about how aroused you’re getting, about how desperately you want to slide your finger into your wet cunt and stroke your swelling clit. Don’t think about how glorious that would feel, how badly you need it, how it would make you moan and shudder.

Can you feel it? Don’t be scared, honest…this is totally normal, and just totally wonderful the way it pushes up into you, reacting to everything to know just what you are imagining now, what it is you want. Isn’t it hot the way it slowly fills your pussy, pulsates and vibrates and writhes inside you? Did you think about it moving deeper? It will move as deep as you want it to, Sharon, and stop at the very first sign of distress on your part, totally incapable of hurting you.

Feel it working you deep inside like a custom-made dildo or vibe, sweetness, but for god’s sake, DON’T for a single second think about it enveloping your aching clit, melding with it, pushing back the sheathe to expose the naked tip of it, wrapping around it and massaging it, teasing it, send those little, almost electrical pulses that it can produce into the very tip of your throbbing, demanding, ohh my goddd, clit.

I’m a real stinker, ain’t I?? No, that’s ok…I’ll wait until you come…back.

La-la-la, Dum-de-dahh… (Such a smile I have here, knowing what you’re feeling)

Are you back, sweetness, trying to settle down? Try thinking about something gross or repellent to stop the feedback loop (I think of Bill Clinton wearing a tutu…Yess, I know you have liberal leanings…try thinking about Rush Limbaugh giving you an open-mouthed kiss). It doesn’t work for very long, but it will help you continue to read for a bit longer.

Now, I want to show you just how great the sack can be, why it will be the greatest masturbatory device for women since the invention of the tingle bullet (“They’re great for massaging neck and back muscles”…yeah, right…lol).

Though not as large as mine (yet!), I know that you have a rather deep bondage fetish, Sharon, that you’ve tried self-bondage with me a bit. Ok, now trust me on this, as I’ll explain as I go along how totally hot and safe this is, but I want you to sit forward in your comp chair, on the front edge some, and put your arms behind you, wrists together or crossed or whatever you want (as long as a part of your arms are touching your suit in the back). Please do that…please…trust me, this is outrageously hot.

Ok, now start to imagine I am there with you, with soft rope or ace bandage or tape…or better yet, the softest, tightest single sleeve you can ever imagine feeling. Think about how that would turn you on so badly, feel your arousal growing as I tie your arms behind you, making you totally helpless, controlling you, the delicious leather sleeve sliding up your arms, being tightened.

See how the sack flows around your arms, Sharon. AH HA! Then did you see how it pulled away when you got scared about what was happening? Look, it’s failsafe, it can’t hurt you, and it can never bind you forever, as when you are no longer aroused, when it’s no longer feeding, it goes back to it’s original shape, the shape of a swimsuit. That’s its “memory” position, Sharon, like memory wire, and when it’s not eating (you), it MUST go back to its original shape. Do you see how great that is, the perfect self-bondage, er…thing! Heck, you don’t even have to worry about having to go to the bathroom in the middle of a hot, dripping, lost-in-sexual rapture session.

(Ok, am changing the font to the smallest that is easily legible. Now scroll this next line to the very top of the page, so everything from here to the line of asterisks is visible, as you hopefully won’t be able to scroll for a while)

Now relax, put your arms behind your back again, and let your sack tie you up!

As it’s doing that (please let it do that, trust me again, please), another example about how safe it is. Well, the first time I used it I got so lost in need and arousal that my mind went totally wild, every fantasy I’ve ever had pretty much overwhelming my reason. You know that I have a bit of an auto-asphix/smothering fetish, right? Anyrate, I got to thinking along those lines, all wrapped up and helpless in the sack (it is incredibly strong for its thinness, isn’t it, you really can’t move at all…yum), and the next thing I knew it had flowed up over my mouth and nose, made itself thick or non-porous enough so that I couldn’t breathe through it at all.

Then, even as lost as I was, even though I had read the “instructions” and knew it was guaranteed safe, I totally panicked, thinking I was going to die. Well, in less than two seconds my nose and mouth were completely clear and I could breathe again. The sack had sensed what was causing my distress and quickly pulled away. So I said the heck with it, really wanting to try that, my fantasy tearing at me, and I “directed” the sack to cover them up again.

I let myself enjoy it this time, felt my vision starting to go all blurry and red finally (I imagine I got pretty red-faced, too), everything drifting away other than my fantasy and the way the sack was just using my nipples and clit and everything else. I was struggling to breathe, but so completely on the edge that I was not even afraid, no longer cared if I lived or died.

But then, as I came so hard that I probably fed the sack for a week, it did what it ALWAYS does, what it is genetically programmed to do, and protected me and my body by sliding totally off my face and letting me breathe again. And it did that with NO conscious thought or desire on my part for it to do that, to clear my nose and mouth. It simply realized that my body was in trouble and remedied the situation. It really is perfect, Sharon.

So, are you all bound now, have you been experimenting already? If not, let’s do that pink elephant thing again…

I know you enjoyed it the time I had you bind your breasts for me, sweetness, how the pressure of the rope at the base of each of your large, luscious tits made them all red and swollen and sensitive. Didn’t you love that, the way it felt? You told me it had you gushing (I remember such things, believe me). Do you feel it now? So tight, starting to squeeze your soft breast flesh at the base, making them throb and ache, making you moan with desire? Do you remember how you told me that time how you wanted to rip the rope off them? Well, you CAN’T now, can you, Sharon…your arms are bound and trapped…so are your great tits, and there’s nothing you can do to stop this.

Now, whatever you do, DON’T think about having your nipples squeezed too, having them teased, shocked and sucked, tormented relentlessly while you are completely helpless to stop it, so wet and needy now that you want to scream!

I know I’m losing you here, Sharon, if I haven’t already, so finally, please don’t think about it covering and/or filling your mouth totally, gagging you completely so that you can scream in pleasure to your heart’s content. And don’t think about it sliding over your eyes so that you can’t see anything, so that all you can do is FEEL every incredibly seductive, sexual thing that is happening to you!!

Gahh…this is soo much fun for me, too, and it’s all I can do not to let my own suit have me while I type this. More on controlling your suit in a bit, Sharon. In the meantime, don’t worry, dear…when you are sexually drained the suit will go dormant and back to memory shape. I’ll wait and then we can finish up here. Bon appétit..…sack.

* * *

Welcome back to the land of the living, Sharon. Now tell me, was that or was that not the most incredible thing that you have ever felt? Have you ever cum that hard or that often in so short a time? I certainly hope you felt all that; I certainly hope I did this just right and everything happened that I was thinking would happen. All I know is that when I first got going with my suit, I fell out of my chair onto the floor and just basically lost my mind for about 45 minutes. I hope you did too.

But now, while you’re too drained to set off your gift again, and hopefully you can focus your eyes at least (and even though it was VERY hungry, as all “new” sacks are first time, I hope it is somewhat sated as well), I’ll dump a few other things on you here that you should know. Most of this is in the instructions, but maybe I can flesh those out a little for you.

First, your sack must be kept SECRET at all costs, at least for now. This is a just trial program for The Company (that’s the main reason none of the sack wearers know the company’s real name, btw), a test period before they put it out on the market, providing they can get Federal clearance. Though they don’t have any real competitors in this area, there would be other clothing manufacturers that would be interested in stopping this project (as would most men, I imagine, as they can’t wear them because they can’t feed them, and they realize that women’s need for Mr. Male may lessen), and any publicity would be almost impossible for The Company to handle, too. It would affect the test and their stock prices, etc., etc., all of which they adamantly don’t want. At least that’s what I’ve been told, and it makes sense to me.

But they are VERY serious about this, Sharon. I know of one woman that made some comment about her suit to some nosy woman in a bar. Trouble is, the woman in the bar worked for The Company and was just there to test her. Well, this woman failed badly, and they took her sack away from her. I imagine you have some small idea now of how addictive and wonderful wearing it is, so you must know how badly it affected the woman who lost hers. I don’t think she was that stable anyway, as after all that happened she apparently just up and quit her job and took off for parts unknown, leaving no forwarding address at all. There are other women, women in your area that you can talk to it about (and believe me, you’ll want to). You can get their names from your sack’s “controller”, who I am going to explain about now.

This part is rather important, sweetness, so try to concentrate here, lol.

Each suit that’s issued has its own local area controller, someone to keep track of it, help you learn how to handle it, and with the knowledge and the chemicals to help maintain it. Don’t worry, there’s much less to the maintenance than you think. The sacks don’t excrete as we do, you know. They process their food and do their thing, but eventually they have to be “conditioned” to get the toxic materials out of them (toxic ONLY to them, btw…just imagine how you would feel if you didn’t go to the bathroom for a week, even if there was no bloating and exploding involved…ugh!). Your controller (well, not your controller, of course…your sack’s controller) does that. You’ll find her name and address and everything in your instructions.

Another thing your controller does is to help you learn how to, well…control your suit. You’ll probably find that you’ll wear it a lot, like I do, just because it so comfortable, it feels so sexy, and actually, it is a nearly perfect undergarment if you think about it. If you’re cold, it reads that and gives up some of its own heat to you. Same thing if you’re too hot. You don’t need to worry about perspiration problems, or if your time of month should somehow surprise you, or you get stuck in traffic and have to pee bad. See what I mean?

But, as it does feel so great and sexy, and as I know you have almost as hot a fantasy mind as I do, Sharon, then you’ll obviously need to learn to control your suit as I have with mine. Think about it for a minute. Say you’re on the witness stand at a big trial, giving the jury your information about what you found out in the forensic lab, being cross-examined by a rather sexy defense lawyer, maybe one that has beautiful, large tits, ones you get to thinking about, wanting to touch, to taste, to suck. Don’t think about it too hard right now, dear! Lol…I don’t want to set you off again.

However, if you started getting aroused on the witness stand, and the sack read that and triggered, and that wonderful bio-feedback loop started…gahh, it could quickly become VERY embarrassing for you; you could lose your job…anything. So you have to learn to control it. Either that, or not wear it around. But you’ll want to do that, and your controller can show you how. It’s easy, with a bit of practice. Oh, heck, let me just tell you how it went for me, after I had had my sack for a few days. I’m sure you’ll go through all this too, so I hope it helps.

The suit has to be conditioned on the fourth day after you get it, then once a month thereafter. Not a calendar month, I might add, but every 28 days, a lunar month. It has something to do with the some of the materials it’s made of (don’t ask, because I didn’t). It’s pretty specific really, and if you should forget you’ll know it right away, as the sack will start to feel a bit stiff, as if it’s dirty, and, if you wait way too long, it will actually start to feel as if it’s burning you a bit.

Well you know me, how I procrastinate, and I hadn’t read the instructions all that well, getting all hung up in playing with my new toy, you know. So I let the suit get in pretty bad shape before I called my controller in the middle of the night, introduced myself and pretty much just begged her to help me. She was NOT happy that I had waited so long, but told me to come right over to her place.

I got there, and she still wasn’t that happy, that I had waited until 10 o’clock on a Monday night to call her. Her rather expansive apartment is on 5th Avenue here in Albany, and when I made the obvious joke about that, she wasn’t any happier, as I’m sure she’d heard it dozens of times before. You know…SAKC’s 5th Avenue? Gahh, yeah, I know.

Anyrate, her name is Marian, and I really didn’t like her very much at first. She seemed a bit humorless and looked, well, I know I shouldn’t judge other people like this, but she was kind of mousy and drab and rather unattractive, though it WAS the middle of the night. She asked me a whole bunch of questions about how I was getting along with my sack, about how I used it, how well I was controlling it. I’m pretty open about things sexual, as you know, so I told her everything, and she seemed to soften up some as she led me into her huge bathroom to condition my suit (I actually think I was arousing her with my descriptions, heehee).

I was still wearing it, despite the fact that it was starting to burn me almost (my mistake, one I am sure you won’t make, Sharon), but she said that was just as well, because I would have had to put it on for the conditioning anyway, for reasons I will mention in a second. She had me undress down to the suit and get into her large shower tub. Then she stripped down right there in front of me, put on a regular swimsuit of her own, some long latex gloves, got her chemicals and a large sponge, some leather shackles (!!) and climbed in with me.

She made me put on a shower cap while she explained what the shackles were for (to help me keep my bare arms away from the chemicals, and so I couldn’t use them as I would be tempted to), then strapped them on each wrist and hooked them to a big eyebolt in the ceiling of the shower. You know my bondage fetish, obviously, and I was starting to get a bit aroused, even though, like I said, Marian wasn’t that attractive or sexually desirable to me. She turned on the shower to wet the suit some and protect the bare portions of my upper body and legs a bit, and went to work with the conditioning chemicals.

She seemed a lot happier at this point, Sharon, pouring the chemicals on my suit, beginning to work them into the “material” with a sponge, all the time talking to me, telling me things about how the sack was made, how it worked. She told me that she couldn’t wear one of them, which surprised me, but apparently there are some women that it doesn’t work for, mainly older women, for some hormonal reasons that I couldn’t quite follow (Dammit Jim, I’m a state senator’s aide, not a doctor!). Apparently most of the controllers are like that, that The Company actually recruits them to be controllers, just to help ease their disappointment, to let them “keep their hand in” the big project, so to speak.

Anyrate, she’s talking, and I’m starting to drift a bit, because she’s rubbing the sponge everywhere on my body that the suit covered, starting to turn me on very badly. I remember moaning once and Marian smiling, not apologizing, but letting me know all this was necessary. I found out pretty quickly why, as my sack started to come around.

It was hungry, you see. After the toxic wastes were removed from it, and because it had not been “fed” for over 24 hours, it was very, very HUNGRY. And as it was conditioned, came back around more and more, it sensed my arousal and started to work on it. When it comes around from conditioning is about the only time that it ever feels like the suit is driving YOU more than you feel like you are driving IT. That’s ok by me occasionally though, and it certainly was that night.

Marian was no help there either, working the sponge, working her hands, suddenly starting to whisper the filthiest, most delicious things in my ear, doing that pink elephant thing to me. OMG, I was so aroused I could barely breathe, and now could readily see why my wrists were cuffed over my head. I would’ve fallen otherwise, and wanted desperately to use my hands on my own throbbing breasts and sex. I came incredibly hard a few times, but was still nowhere near done. The suit was still hungry, too.

But Marian said that was perfect, also, that it was perfect for my first lesson in learning to control my suit.

You see Sharon (and are probably already smart enough to have figured this out), to control the sack you just basically have to “break” the loop, to stop the back and forth between it and yourself. In other words, you have to kill your arousal, so the suit will sense that, stop feeding, and go back to its memory form. Pre-empting your sexual thoughts BEFORE they start is another matter, “for a different lesson,” Marian said. But in any event, occasionally a woman in a suit has to be able to shut it off even in the middle of some pretty intense arousal and to do it quickly (e.g., you’re in “session” with it and the phone rings, or there’s an emergency, someone comes to the door, your family, if any, get home, etc.).

She showed me the tricks for doing that. I was there, cuffed in the shower, practically out of my mind with need, barely able to breathe much less think, and she somehow managed to show me how to do it, to stop myself, and thus, my suit. You see sweetness, the big trick, the only trick actually, is you have to learn how blank your mind of all sexual thoughts, to almost go into a trance as it were.

I was there writhing and trying not to moan, and she just kept showing me, standing behind me and holding me, whispering in my ear, telling me what to do, how to relax and let me mind go blank of anything remotely sexual. It was such a struggle to even hear her, to concentrate on what she was saying, because I was just so distracted by all the sexual things happening to me. Eventually she just pressed into my back, holding me closer, swaying slowly with me. I started to feel so one with her, finally able to lock in on her words, the cadence of them, their helpful intent. It was very erotic in its own way, to listen and try to do everything she said in exactly the way that she said.

I never could have done it by myself Sharon, nor will you be able to…trust me, when you’re as aroused as I was, there is NO way you can stop it, no way you can learn to control it on your own. That’s the controller’s job, so let her just do it.

And it worked! I started to “zone out” finally, following Marian’s hints and suggestions and commands…and it worked! When I could finally concentrate on things again, bring my mind back into focus on the things around me, my suit was back in memory position and I was no longer completely aroused. I could see Marian again (I really WAS out of it for a while, what with my overwhelming arousal and my struggles to blank it out of my mind), and she was smiling (she does have a great smile) and very pleased with how well I had done on my very first lesson. It made me feel very good to have her proud of me like that.

As she was uncuffing me, up close and helping me, I thought about all she had done for me, what she had taught me, how great she had really been about helping me in the middle of the night. I began to feel rather ashamed about how quickly I had judged her when I first got there, the way I had automatically dismissed her as not an attractive woman, not someone who I would ever want to be with in THAT way.

So I kissed her, grabbed her and kissed her, just like that. She kissed me back hard and something went snap in my head about how looks don’t matter when you’re kissing, that only the taste and feel and passion of the other’s lips and tongue mean anything at all. And gahhh, how Marian can kiss! I couldn’t help myself, and started to get aroused all over again, wanting to keep kissing her. Either that or, well…kneel and taste her. Hey…the sack can’t replace everything, you know!

So I started to slide down her body a bit, looking up at her and whispering, almost whimpering, “Please, Marian?” She smiled and nodded and shrugged out of her swimsuit, allowed me to kneel and lick her and eat her, while my suit did roughly the same thing to me. It was so wonderful, Sharon, giving truth once again to the cliché that “you can’t judge a book by its cover,” as she simply has the most erotic scent and taste of any woman I’ve ever been with.

Frankly, I went a bit crazy then, between how bad I wanted her and how hard my sack was working me over, and when I finally got her to cum, I came too (that seems to happen every time between us now…talk about biofeedback!). She’s a squirter too, and I got a lot of her juices on my sack, though I was glad to see that it didn’t seem to affect it at all. So apparently the hormonal problem doesn’t have anything to do with what’s in her pussy juices and cum (Dammit Jim, I’m a total sexual slut, not a doctor! Ok, ok…I’ll stop with the “Star Trek” riffs…sheesh).

Gahhh…this letter is getting much too long, so I’ll speedball some things here. We toweled off, left the bathroom and went into the living room. I was still a bit aroused, though luckily my suit was just idling, keeping me teased. Marian was telling me stuff about the suit, suggesting that I might want to wear it all the time, that I shouldn’t feel remotely guilty about that, that it was the smart thing to do. That’s when she gave me the two examples I referred to above.

In the first one, a woman from Washington, D.C., who works for the federal government, like I do for the state, had started to wear her suit all the time. She was asleep when a space heater she had forgotten to shut off caught on fire and her apartment filled with smoke. As her body started to react badly to the toxic fumes, her sack covered her face, sensing or reading the problem with her breathing. That is what finally woke her up, btw. But the sack knew she had to breath something, so remained porous enough for her to breathe through, see through, filtering the smoke and fumes through itself, until she finally found her way out of the apartment by the light of the fire. She would have died in her sleep except for her sack. A totally amazing bit of business there.

The other example is a bit more gruesome, so bear with me, Sharon. A woman from New York City, who also had started to wear her suit all the time, was attacked in a parking lot late one night by some pervert, and dragged into a van where the guy tried to rape her. He couldn’t tear the suit, so finally cut the crotch of it open with a knife. Then he penetrated her and started in on her like the vile, filthy pig that he was. Her suit already knew that something was wrong, obviously getting all kinds of distressed readings from her. When it finally determined that she was being upset by the “appendage” that was being forced into her, it decided that said appendage must GO, and basically just attacked the rapist’s cock and anything attached to it (Marian assumes that it covered his dick and started to shock and “burn” it, along with squeezing the hell out of his balls!).

Anyrate, he became somewhat “distracted” by his condition, opening the van door to try to pull away, and the woman took that opportunity to pretty much drive one of her high heels right through his eyeball. Then she ran away. That’s pretty awful, I know, but it sure beat the alternative for the poor woman, and just shows you the lengths your sack will go, the things it will do to protect its host.

Last point about that incident, Sharon…the woman who was attacked didn’t go to the police though, worried about the secrecy provisions regarding the suit. But she was smart enough to call her controller, who told her that was exactly the right thing to have done…to call and let The Company look into and follow-up on such things.

So Marian was telling me that it was actually a smart thing to do to wear it most of the time. But I was pretty much doing that already anyway (it knows enough to “open up” for certain, more solid, bodily functions, btw…eww, I know, but thought I would mention before you asked), but her examples made me even more convinced that it was the right thing to do.

Finishing up my first session with Marian quickly…She decided that we had a bit more time, so she got me totally aroused again, kissing me and touching me and simply telling me that I was aroused, as she wanted to give me a bit more sack control training before I had to leave. I found it much easier this second time to respond to the trigger words and phrases she had given me the first time, to clear my mind of all sexual thoughts, to do everything that Marian told me to get my sack to go back to memory form. And when I finally brought myself back to full thought, she was there smiling at me, saying she was proud of me again. I felt so great, and couldn’t resist wanting to “thank” her again, to show her how terribly grateful I was to her for all her help and training. She reluctantly agreed to that, seeming to want me to go home and get some rest, instead.

But she sat down and allowed me to pleasure her, which again was simply fantastic. And as I knelt there, laving my tongue over and inside her sweet pussy, she suggested some things to me that I might try, might think about to get my sack to react to. I did, of course, because she seems so wise about such things, and ended up in a tight ball on the floor between her legs, ENTIRELY covered by my suit from the neck down, the “neckline” sporadically tightening around my throat, closing off my arteries and windpipe some, keeping me totally dizzy and disoriented so that all I could feel was my own arousal and Marian’s incredible cunt humping my mouth and face and tongue. It was fantastic, so wildly arousing to do what she suggested and get myself into such a wonderful, erotic situation.

It was funny for a minute too, as she got a phone call about halfway into it. It was from her supervisor, no less, wondering how things were going with my suit, whether I had waited too long and ruined it (which thank god, I hadn’t). I was being a real meanie, lol, sucking and teasing her swollen, perfect clit with my lips and tongue, making it harder…for her to talk. I had to laugh though (and did, right into her pussy), when Marian told her boss that I was “in the bag”, rather than “in the sack”. Although, when you think about it, the way I was wrapped up, it probably looked like I WAS in a bag.

All I know is she finished the call, we both came like crazy, and she made me practice zoning myself out (zoning out myself? lol), with no help from her, to get my suit to settle down. It took longer than when she helped me, but I did it, got it back to memory shape, and have been getting better at it ever since.

So, hopefully you’re all settled down now, Sharon, and what I’ve written you is making some sense, is helping you to see exactly what kind of gift I sent you, giving you some idea as to what it can do, what YOU have to do, and what you can expect down the road.

And I’m not looking for extra thanks here, but I had to work very hard to get you this gift. While it’s normal that they allow new “wearers” to give them suggestions as to who might be good candidates to try out the suits, they usually allow them only one to give out, as they screen potential users very carefully. They only want professional, single, intelligent women to wear them for now, ones that will respect their secrecy provisions, take care of the suits as directed, and be able to give them the most usable feedback.

You know, because I told you, that just recently I have become very intimate with my boss, state senator Rebecca Olsen. Marian had suggested that I try that, to try to become sexual with her, just to see if she might be interested, because she thought Rebecca would be a wonderful candidate for the sack. Marian’s suggestion made perfect sense to me, Sharon, and I had already been having thoughts along those lines anyway, as Rebecca is very attractive and powerful. She’s very smart and politically savvy for someone so young and new to politics, too, and I can see her going a long way. But I digress, again.

So I tried what Marian wanted, and you know me, I can be very sneaky and “persuasive” when I want to be. And it turns out that my controller was right again (I hope yours is as smart and terrific as mine is, Sharon), that Rebecca DID have lesbian leanings, and now she and I have become rather closer than just senator and aide. So the one suit I was allowed was to go to her (I’m giving it to her as a gift to open after the party tomorrow night celebrating her appointment as head of the state’s Environmental Protection Committee). And she’ll love it, I just know she will.

But I pushed them to give me a second sack, Sharon, one for you, and I finally got them to see that you are a perfect candidate too…beautiful, sexual, a real professional with an important job with the L.A. Police Dept., a real up-and-comer (pun intended). We’ve already shared so much together, I know most of your hot buttons, and I just knew that no one could possibly enjoy wearing one of these things more than you. Except, of course…me. LOL…

So Happy Birthday, again, Sharon!! Make sure you read all the other instructions for this later, and take good care of your sack, so it can take good care of you. And remember, hon, I want a call from you ASAP, preferably as soon as you finish this letter, as I want to hear all about your first time with it, maybe answer any other questions you might have about it.

Our relationship has meant a great deal to me, and I hope in some small way that my gift to you will prove that. Be well and happy and talk to you soonest, Sharon.

Love, Vanessa

P.S. Marian approved this letter to you, in case you’re wondering. But even though she told me not to change a word, I simply couldn’t resist adding a few things, to tell you everything, as I knew you would appreciate the info, and I totally trust you not to tell anyone anything I have mentioned here.

* * *

Sharon sat there, staring at the screen, her sweaty hair matted to her forehead, still feeling little shivers and tingles from her first session with the sack. She would have to call Vanessa, tell her that things had happened exactly as she had wanted, that she had read her words on the screen, thought the “pink elephant” thoughts that Vanessa had planted in her mind, and basically been overwhelmed by the sheer eroticism of the suit as it had held her helpless, stimulated her past her ability to resist it.

It had started slowly for her at first, as her new suit had begun its learning process, had figured out how to “read” her. But by the time her first session with her new gift was over, it seemed to be reading her body so well that it was almost anticipating her thoughts, as if the sack actually could read her mind.

Sharon remembered how she had thought that she was making too much noise, that the neighbors might hear her, wishing that her “created” gag was tighter, more mouth-filling…and almost instantly it had been, tightening around her head, swelling and getting thicker, moving deeper towards the back of her throat. And the one time she had thought that if her swollen clit was given one more tease that she would explode? My god!! The thought of what she had felt one second later raised goosebumps on Sharon’s arms even now.

She needed to tell her east-coast friend about how she had slid off her chair to the floor, just as Vanessa had, and been wracked with one incredible orgasm after another as she writhed and moaned into that thickened gag her sack had fashioned for her. She needed to call Vanessa and thank her profusely for the most utterly arousing event of her entire life.

Sharon clicked Vanessa’s letter off and stood, again noticing how wonderful the suit felt on her, even in its simplest form. “Its memory shape,” she thought. “I’ll have to get all the terminology straight before I see the controller.” She took a few steps toward the phone, then stopped to look at herself in the mirror over the dining-area hutch, trying to straighten her hair some, preening a bit as she admired her toned and tanned body in its new, beautiful, skintight suit.

She noted that she was already starting to get a bit aroused again, surprised that she could get that way so soon, wondering if the sack was somehow managing to internalize her orgasms, feed her arousal back into her, hold it within her the same way it had held her body so tightly. She had almost sensed something akin to that while she was cumming, and shivered again, only this time at the knowledge of how addicting the thing could be to wear, to use. “I’ll have to be careful about that,” she thought.

But she also thought, at least here at the beginning, that she could and should give her sack a full trial run, knowing that she had only scratched the surface of what it could do, the enjoyment it could give her. One thing she wanted to try was some more “involved” fantasizing, as her first set of orgasms had been almost completely driven by just raw sexual feeling and stimulation of her erogenous zones by the sack, that the simple physical pleasure of it had driven her body over the edge again and again. But over the last few years she had created a number of very detailed, fully “choreographed” fantasies, and wanted to see what happened, how the suit would react when she let them unfold like movies in her mind. She smiled, just thinking about it. That was going to be fun…she just knew it!

As she finished her rather narcissistic staring, needing to head for the phone and her call to Vanessa, a specific one of those fantasies, one that she was almost embarrassed to admit to, even to her kinky online girlfriend, came drifting into her mind. It was the one where she was heading for a bar she liked on a Saturday night, dressed to the nines, but where just before she got there she noticed some lights on beneath the window blinds of an old store that she knew to have been abandoned. And even though she was off duty, and not a street cop anyway, she still carried her service revolver in her purse, and thought it was her duty to investigate. In real life she would have called for backup, but this was a fantasy after all.

She had tried the front door and found it still locked, but could hear music playing inside, the muted sounds of laughter. Moving around the building, she had found the large service entrance broken into, and had used it to get inside, there to find four very hot biker “chicks” and their bikes in the otherwise empty store, drinking and partying. She had found them all stunningly seductive and attractive, two blonde Amazon-types, a raven-haired Asian, and a small, feisty-looking redhead. But they were trespassing, and she needed to stand up to them.

So she did.

Flashing her badge and her piece, she had accosted them, told them they were breaking the law, but that she would let it go as long as they were out of there in ten minutes. She told them that she was leaving, but that she was going to call a squad car to check things out, so that they’d better get their “asses in gear” and vamoose. They had agreed, and had actually thanked her, even though they weren’t looking all that happy as she turned to go.

But then she had made a mistake. Putting her gun and badge back into her purse, she had turned her back on the bikers and moved off toward the service door. Over the sounds of the loud radio she did not hear the redhead running after her, had no warning before the other tackled her hard around the thighs.

All this had run through Sharon’s mind in just the few seconds it had taken her to finish playing with her hair, to turn and begin walking towards the phone. She had only taken about two steps when she felt her sack begin to flow down along her legs, down to her knees, shaped more like a skirt now than a swimsuit. But it was a viciously tight skirt, hobbling her, making walking difficult, and she gasped in surprise as the squeezing restriction of her thighs triggered off the next part of her fantasy in her mind.

The woman who had grabbed her thighs had knocked her over, had slid down to completely pin her legs to the floor. Sharon was lying on her stomach, stunned, but trying to struggle free, to reach out and grab the purse she had dropped when she had been tackled. But it was too late anyway, as the other three had rushed up to help their friend. They had caught her arms and pulled them up behind her, produced a rope from somewhere and were tying her wrists and elbows so tight now that she wanted to scream.

But she couldn’t scream…she tried, but the beautiful Asian woman was gagging her with a tight hand across her mouth. She was fighting as best she could, but her legs were still pinned and now her arms were rigidly bound behind her. She was defenseless, no one even knew she was here, and she was now in some deep, deep shit.

In real life, Sharon now lay face down on her floor, the sack down to her ankles, her legs locked tightly together. Her arms were completely lost from sight as the suit trapped and held them to the small of her back, her neck and mouth now covered by the silk-like membrane as well. She was struggling uselessly, becoming more and more aroused with each passing second, starting to lose track of reality as the fantasy overwhelmed her senses, became more and more real to her.

Someone was tying her legs now, at the ankles and just above her knees, and she could do nothing to stop them. Now they were hiking her skirt up to her waist and one of the Amazons was cutting off her panties with a knife, telling her friends that Sharon was already wet and aroused, that they had obviously captured a total slut. Then they were rolling her over, tearing at her blouse and pulling at her bra, finally cutting it open with the same knife, exposing her embarrassingly swollen breasts and nipples to them.

Smiling down at her, the Asian woman stuffed Sharon’s cut-off panties into her mouth and used a hurriedly cut-off section of her blouse to tie them in. And as if this were not humiliating enough, the four biker chicks continued to make fun of her, leer at her, hovering over her and starting to touch her everywhere.

Suddenly the dark-haired Asian had Sharon’s head in her lap, stroking her face, hair and neck with deft, seductive, and sensuous motions of her fingers. The two Amazons were feasting on her straining breasts, massaging and milking them with their hands while they tormented her throbbing nipples with their wanton mouths and licking tongues. The redhead was raking Sharon’s ass and legs with the fingernails of one hand while her other was sliding between the bound policewoman’s slick thighs to tease and torment her swollen labia and clit. Not satisfied with that, however, she occasionally dipped her fingers deep inside Sharon’s wet, spasming folds, relentlessly masturbating her as she twisted and bucked in her tight restraints.

And they wouldn’t stop! The Asian women holding her head had untied the blouse remnant from her mouth and used it to blindfold her. Changing positions, she whispered in her ear how they were going to use her and use her and use her, both here in the store and later, after they had tied her to the back of one of their bikes and taken her to the house where the four of them lived. She whispered how they were going to break her sexually, enslave her, make her their house fucktoy forever and ever. And Sharon, completely helpless, could only moan and writhe as the images washed over her; images that despite her best efforts were only making her more and more aroused with every passing second.

Then she had pulled the sodden panties out of Sharon’s mouth and started to kiss her…deeply, passionately…the other three switching places, but never completely stopping, never giving her a second’s rest, a moment’s respite from her helpless desire and surging hunger and need to cum.

And even as they finally pushed her (hell, picked her up and tossed her) over the edge, they never stopped their licking and sucking and nibbling and stroking and teasing and kissing even as she came, and came, and came…

If Damon could have poked his head in the door and seen Sharon now, lying on the floor of her apartment, he would have noted that she was now totally “decent”, with only the skin on the tip of her nose and her nostrils exposed and visible to the naked eye. But for a moment he would probably have thought that he was looking at a huge, naked worm wriggling there, the tan of her sack looking almost flesh-colored, Sharon’s body totally covered with what looked like slick, shining skin.

But if he had entered and moved closer, he would easily have determined that it was indeed the body of a woman, a woman whose body was perfectly outlined everywhere, a woman who appeared to have just one large, single leg, whose arms were molded tightly to her back, her eyes invisible, her breasts squeezed and swollen, her nipples completely distended and obvious.

And if he could have seen, he might have noticed how the “skin” seemed to be tucked between Sharon’s thighs, so tight to her vulva and clitoris that they looked naked and completely normal, although having the self-same fleshy color as the rest of her body. He would also have noted that they seemed to be quivering and pulsing of their own accord, as if held spread and open by unseen hands. Damon would have noticed the same things about her mouth, the way Sharon’s lips seemed to be covered with trembling skin, the way they were held open in some perverse parody of a soulful kiss.

He COULD have seen these things if Sharon had been lying there motionless…but she was not. She was twisting and thrashing around on the carpeted floor, sometimes writhing sensuously, sometimes sitting up, only to then come crashing back down hard onto her arms and shoulders, to suddenly arch her back, to desperately thrust her hips into the air over and over again.

Then she was logrolling across the floor until she crashed into the hutch, unable to roll any farther. Lying on her belly, she wildly started to hump and grind her hips and pelvis and breasts into the rug, all the time moaning and snorting through her nose as her body was wracked by one orgasm after another…Sharon came hard, then harder, completely lost in her fantasy world, until she finally passed out, her drained body no longer able to respond to the driving demands of her mind…or of her wonderful new gift.

* * *

Sharon woke up a short time later, her suit back in its memory shape, her breathing and heart rate about back to normal. With a great deal of effort, she managed to get to her feet and stagger to the phone, to put in that call to Vanessa. Considering what had just happened...twice...her friend deserved that, and Sharon certainly wanted to tell her what had just happened.

They had talked for a while, a nice chat, but Sharon had sensed Vanessa’s slight disappointment when she couldn’t really respond to the other’s teasing. She had wanted to, but was simply too drained and exhausted for any more sexual games right then. She had cum more times in the past two hours than she had in the last month, and her body had nothing left to give for now.

But Vanessa had understood, of course, having gone through the same things herself, knowing that Sharon’s sack must be totally full of food now, anyway. So they had broken off their conversation, Sharon promising to call back soon, and promising Vanessa to go and rehydrate, to eat something, and then get some rest (“Yes, Mommy…”).

So Sharon did as she had promised, too tired to do more than wolf down three donuts (the irony of that not lost on her) and drink about a quart of water. Then, even though it was barely nine o’clock, she flopped into bed, too tired to brush her teeth, too tired to even remove her suit…utterly spent. She fell asleep instantly and slept for over eight hours straight, her mind producing and processing one erotic dream after another.

When she finally awoke it was still dark outside. Sharon was achy and sore, famished and horny, and the thought of having to go to work like this was a total anathema to her. Sitting up in her bed, she reached over and turned on the lamp on her nightstand. She grabbed the bedside phone, having decided to call in sick, unable to think of anything else to do, considering just how strange and, well…needy she felt. She hated to do that, but truly wanted to just spend the next three days with her sack, exploring what it could do, to see just how wonderful it could make her feel. Then she laughed, realizing that it was too early to call in, that none of her shift would be in the lab yet.

So she hung up the phone and sat back to think.

Her sack was simply an unbelievable thing, something to savor and use, but something almost too powerful to handle. But she also figured she was a more disciplined and independent woman than Vanessa was. So she just knew that if she worked at it hard enough for the next three days, she could learn to control her suit on her own without any help from anyone else. That way, when she went to her sack’s controller on Monday, she could show off her new skill to the other, maybe make the other proud of her, too.

Sharon leaned back against her pillows, idly stroking one of her nipples, watching it begin to respond, wondering what her controller would be like, wondering if she would be attractive, maybe someone that she could get as close to as Vanessa had done with hers. Sharon hoped so, as truth be told, she was rather lonely and really did want to find another woman to share her love and lust with in the real world...not just online.

She smiled when she felt the first stirrings of her sack, felt it tightening and beginning to tease the same nipple she was playing her finger over and around. She sighed, raising and spreading her knees as she felt the pressure and need in her loins already starting to build.

She was still smiling when she thought about that commercial, about how she would rewrite it.

“Calling in sick to play with myself…I have lots of sick leave; having such a wonderful, exciting new toy…it didn’t cost me a cent; getting this incredible gift and maybe finding a wonderful woman to love here in L.A.…absolutely PRICELESS!”

“I’ll just relax for a bit, and call work in a little while,” Sharon thought as she reached over and turned off the light.

And a few minutes later, there in the darkness, if it’s true that the walls have ears, then theirs were the only ones that could hear her muffled moans begin again.

* * *