© Copyright 2015 - Ty M Goode - Used by permission
Storycodes: Solo-F; leather; catsuit; boots; studio; film; M/f; capture; drug; bond; corset; inserts; inflate; electro; shock; kidnap; crate; packaged; transported; enslaved; cons/nc; X
Author's Note: Another quickie . I'm sure many of us have had similar ideas when watching the commercials. This may read a lot like a re-tread, but it deals with images I enjoy.
"And...CUT!" The director called out. "That's a wrap people. See you all again on Monday."
Carly Foulkes let out a relieved sigh and climbed off the Kawasaki ZX10 that sat on the stage in front of a large 'Green Screen' used for special effects.
"Any longer on that damn bike and I'd be walking like a cowboy for a month." She thought bemusedly to herself, as she pulled off the full-face crash helmet.
The last hour of taping had required her to keep the helmet's face shield down the majority of the time. That, combined with the heat from all the lighting had given her waterproof makeup a run for its money. Still, the warm air of the studio felt cool against her flush skin. Unfortunately for the moment, her hair and face were the only things benefitting from exposure to "fresh" air.
That was because Carly was still clad in the sponsor's signature, black and magenta colored leather catsuit. Of course, no one associated with the commercial openly called it that. Be it referred to as a "costume, riding togs, leathers" whatever, all knew that it personified the oldest adage in advertising. Sex sells.
And Carly was selling it big time. Hokey as it might sound, she looked as if her shapely, 5'9" frame had been poured into the leather garment. Add to that the feline grace with which she walked, even while wearing the high heeled boots and the cell phone carrier's profits had almost doubled. Her compensation for this had made sweating buckets during each shoot infinitely more tolerable. Still, as she "squished" back to her dressing room, the crew rapidly breaking down equipment in anticipation for the upcoming weekend, Carly briefly longed for the early days as spokeswoman when all she had to wear was a frilly pink dress.
"I'll be in shorts and a tee, drinking ice cold Evian in less than 10 minutes." The actress reminded herself.
Carly was smiling at this image as she entered her dressing room. The smile vanished in confusion and beneath a large cloth which suddenly covered the lower half of her face. At the same time, a powerful arm wrapped around her torso trapping her arms. The cloth felt damp and cool, but also seemed to burn her skin. When she gasped in surprise, her eyes, nose and throat began to burn as well. Knowing that something was wrong, if not exactly what, she began to thrash instinctively.
"That's it baby, fight me!" Whispered a familiar, yet uncharacteristically menacing voice in her ear.
This only exacerbated Carly's confusion which, even under these circumstances, seemed to have blossomed drastically out of proportion. The actress twisted and grunted whilst trying to call for help. With each of these efforts, she drew more of the noxious fumes into her lungs. Rapidly, her confusion seemed to grow less important. In fact, the need for, or ability to frame any rational thought felt less and less imperative. Ignoring a far off cry of caution, Carly toppled into the welcoming arms of oblivion.
"Confusion" seemed to be the watchword of the day. As Carly slowly awoke, her body taking a languid inventory, the actress registered an assortment of aches, pains and other "oddities". She fumbled to remember what had taken place. Had she recently gone through a particularly grueling Tae-Bo class? Had she and her boyfriend enjoyed a night of exceptionally energetic sex? None of the pieces seemed to fall into place.
Her shoulders, arms and legs ached as if just having worked out, but that didn't explain the ache in her jaw. Her breasts hurt and her sex felt weird, but that didn't explain the crush on her head and torso, nor the semi-urgent need to defecate.
Figuring it was time to wake up and work things out, Carly decided to get the blood flowing with a good old fashioned stretch. It was when nothing happened that she put it all together.
"I'm tied up!" She realized.
Straining once more, it hit her at what an understatement that was. She could hardly move!
"hhhmmnnnngffff!!!" The beauty called for help.
She was dumbfounded into silence at how muted her cry was. Belatedly, she became cognizant of how her gaping mouth was filled to overflowing by a spongy mass. She tried to spit it out, but her tongue was trapped beneath the dense packing. She tried to close her mouth, but the pressure of the stuff kept her jaw jacked wide open. Something narrow bit into the corners of her mouth passed around her head and dug into the base of her skull with particular ferocity.
Carly tried to reach up and rip the abomination away. That's when the mystery of her aching shoulders was solved. Her arms wouldn't budge! More accurately, they were crushed together behind her back from fingertips to elbows and beyond. She kicked out desperately, but her legs remained stubbornly folded. In an odd observation amongst all this disturbing discovery, Carly noted that she could feel the heels of her boots pressing into her butt cheeks. This spurred the realization that she could feel the familiar cling of the catsuit all over her body.
"Back amongst the living, are we?" Said a voice off to her right.
The actress whipped her head that way, dread sweeping over her as it was clear that that was all she could move. Her wide, frightened eyes settled on her director sitting casually in a nearby chair. He was holding a camera and on the floor next to him was a monitor facing in her direction. It took a long moment for Carly to realize that the person in the image was her.
When in costume, she was accustomed to seeing nothing but leather from the neck down. But now she gazed upon the color coordinated "accessories" to her advertising persona. Some kind of 'sleeve' trapped her arms behind her keeping them perpetually straight. Carly strained once more against it, the sleeve's gleaming black and magenta surface hardly flexing. She wriggled her fingers what little they could. She couldn't feel her sweaty fingers or palms and deduced she was still wearing the costume's tight gloves.
2" wide leather straps (matching color scheme of course) pinned her arms to her spine by passing around her ridiculously reduced torso. Some sort of waist cincher or corset squeezed her midsection without pause, eliminating any hope of bending or twisting. More of the same straps kept her legs folded. She couldn't be sure, but it felt like they'd been strapped individually and then together.
Above where the leather ended, things were no better. The least distressing feature was her hair, which had been gathered into a tight ponytail high on the back of her head. Substantially more distressing, was a one inch leather strap bisecting a magenta mass that looked to be trying to spill from her gaping mouth.
"ggnnnnmmffff!" Carly grunted, involuntarily screen testing the gag for the camera.
The director chuckled, tossing a foam ball almost 6" in diameter up in the air. It was the exact same color as what peeked out between Carly's painted lips.
"Kids aren't the only ones who can play with these." He said. "I must say, I had a hell of a time cramming it all into that pretty mouth of yours."
Carly wouldn't have believed it possible that such a large object would fit in her mouth if she weren't experiencing the devastating effect first hand.
"nnnnnghhhh!" She grunted in a combination of discomfort, anger and bafflement.
She wanted out and she wanted out NOW! Explanations (and apologies and lawsuits) could come later. Carly thrashed at her restraints in a panic-fueled fury, unconsciously keeping track of her progress in the monitor. Although she knew exactly how much effort she was exerting to break free, it did not reflect on the TV screen. At best, it looked like she was writhing in slow motion. Exhaustion quickly overtook her and she lay there gasping, her body drenched with sweat beneath her leather second skin.
"Well," the director said, "that was quite a little tiff. God, actors can be so hard to work with. And we're not even done with your costume yet."
"First, a little something to enhance your 'Damsel in Distress' motivation."
He fixed the camera to a squat tripod and strolled over. Using his foot, he rolled Carly on to her side then knelt beside her. With great apprehension (and helplessness) the actress looked down to follow his actions. She noticed three rubber hoses with bulbs at their ends trailing away from her catsuit. One was at her chest, the other two from a strap that descended from the corset and dove down between her legs. Only now did Carly notice the firm pressure against her crotch, the strictness of her other bonds overshadowing it.
The spokeswoman tried to twist away from her assailant with negligible results as he reached for the hose at her chest. She could do nothing to prevent whatever he planned to do next.
"I do apologize for having to take certain liberties in your preparation." He explained remorselessly.
With that, he began squeezing the bulb. Almost immediately, Carly felt a tightening around the base of each breast. This was quickly accompanied by an uncomfortable "prickling" sensation consuming each tit. The brunette tried to flinch away from the sensation, but her breasts had nowhere to go. She looked up at the director in distraught puzzlement.
"An inflatable rubber bra with rubber spiked lining." He answered her unable-to-be-spoken question. "Although quite stiff and sharp, the spikes won't pierce your skin. That is, unless you struggle too hard."
By the time he disconnected the hose, Carly thought her breasts had been placed over hot coals. She tried to twist or shrink away from the horrible sensation, but could find no respite. She quickly discovered that any attempt to shy away only caused her more grief. Tears welled up in her eyes, eyes which pleaded with him to let her go. His expression told her he had no such inclination.
Instead, he began squeezing the first of the two bulbs lower down. To her horror, she felt something expanding inside her vagina. It rapidly grew to proportions she'd never experienced during intercourse. He stopped pumping somewhere between extremely uncomfortable and agonizing. Throughout the process, Carly had kept up a stream of muffled protests, complaints and pleas, none of which did her any good.
"Boy," he said as he disconnected the hose, "if you're gonna raise that much of a fuss over that, you're probably not going to like this at all."
Squeezing the last bulb, Carly's eyes shot wide as something began to expand in her rectum. She went ballistic, having never diddled with her back passage in the past. Her doubled up legs tried to knock his hands away while at the same time she tried to squirm in any direction but here. Her breasts started to scream "Knock It Off!" but she kept trying. And the probe kept inflating.
By the time he disconnected the last hose, the brunette beauty was writhing like a hypothermic eel. When exhaustion finally put a halt to her escape attempts she was no better off. As she lay there, she realized that remaining motionless caused her the least amount of intolerable duress. Her eyes were drawn once more to the monitor. The flush face and tearing eyes on the screen only hinted at the perverse depth of what she was experiencing.
"You never knew that acting could be so fulfilling did you?" He said. "Well, that takes care of the inside, let's finish with the rest of your costume."
He callously rolled Carly back on to her stomach. The jabbing at her breasts trebled but she dare not attempt to rock back on her side. Her "nnnnnmmmphh!" was more groan than protest. She watched him with disinterested interest, her brain still trying to wrap itself around her predicament. He approached with yet more leather, color coordinated as usual.
"This should help quiet your incessant yapping." He said.
Carly's world went dark as something was pulled up over her face. Her vision did return, but she found that she'd lost most of her peripheral vision. She felt leather enveloping her head accompanied by a yanking on her ponytail. The thick skin shifted as the director made some minor adjustments. And then the whole thing began to shrink as a fierce tugging pulled her head up involuntarily. It continued to shrink until not a millimeter of her head escaped the squeeze. Although she could still see, the sensation was stifling and claustrophobic.
"mmmmmnnnnh!" Carly groaned, the sound emanating more inside her head than out.
Without warning, a brutal pressure surged between her teeth, unbelievably crushing the foam packing even deeper into her mouth. The actress cried out once more, the plaintive whimper whistling out through her nose. More cries followed (or tried to) as an equally callous pressure gripped her from chin to the crown of her head, forcing her to bite down on the eye watering gag.
"nnngfff! nngfff! nngfff!" Carly cried out, instinctively knowing that her pleas wouldn't be heard across the room.
Still trying to endure the unendurable, the actress's head was yanked back sharply by her hair. She didn't know something had passed around her neck until it began to tighten. As it did, her head became all but immobilized, her eyes hovering scant centimeters off the floor. She flinched when the director's voice seemed to emanate from inside her head.
"Well, your costume's just about done. Care to have a look?"
Not waiting for a response and certainly not expecting one, the director rolled the restrained beauty on to her side again. Carly's now tunneled vision was staring squarely at the monitor. Wide, frightened brown eyes stared back at her through two small ovals interrupting a creaseless helmet of black and magenta leather. The only other openings were two, small grommet holes at her nostrils. A wide strap actually cleaved her gaping, unseen mouth, quite literally presenting the image of a silent scream.
The director removed the camera from its tripod and slowly captured the beauty's predicament from every angle. The actress could do little but watch as her trussed body passed in front of the monitor. The difference between what she was experiencing and what she saw was surreal yet intertwined.
"Quite the bondage biker babe, aren't you." The director's voice boomed in her head.
Carly realized that there must be headphones in the horrid leather hood she was wearing. Her tormentor's mocking voice continued its monologue.
"And so quiet too. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear you were just a prop. Anyway, let's finish your rigging and I'll explain what's going on. I'm sure you must have a thousand questions. Pity you can't ask a single one of them."
Carly could do nothing to prevent the motorcycle helmet from being muscled in to place. Her vision disappeared, as the tinted visor must have been blacked out on the inside. Despite everything else, the loss of her sight was the most frightening aspect of all. Then suddenly, it was back, although from a completely different angle.
"Your helmet has a "heads-up" capability." He explained. "I'm wearing a mini cam attached to my eyeglasses. Real 'Mission Impossible' stuff, huh? Anyway, you'll be able to see everything I do, such as walking out through a sound studio filled with dozens of employees."
"It's a shame that you won't be able to attract any attention to yourself. And should you try" there was a pause, then a ripping shock *zapped* her privates, "any noise you try to make will be punished. There's a microphone in the helmet. Make any sound and you'll regret it."
"So, let's finish this up."
Carly could only watch as the director's feet straddled her bound form. The black and magenta abomination rose from the floor and levitated across the room. The brunette stared in horror as she was lowered into a foam lined equipment case, unbuckled straps lying in wait of an occupant. She could feel the moderate resistance of the foam through the leather, followed by the pressure of the straps across her head, back and legs. She tried to shift or wriggle but remained held fast.
Her body disappeared before her eyes as another wedge of foam was placed on top of her, followed by the trunk lid which was latched shut. If that weren't enough, a padlock was secured through each of the three latches. Carly felt a degree of hopelessness she'd never thought possible. Then an even worse thought occurred to her. Was she going to die in this stainless steel trunk? As if reading her mind, the director spoke yet again.
"You'll get plenty of oxygen in there, plus your vital signs are being monitored. It wouldn't do to have you arrive at your next assignment deceased."
"And, to help you practice your Damsel in Distress role, the case is lined with motion sensors. As long as you keep struggling to get free, you'll avoid getting shocked."
"What's your new assignment you ask? Why, you'll be spokeswoman for a very exclusive ranch, one where women are trained to be ponygirls. You'll be harnessed, trained, whipped and most likely branded for a promotional video. I'm sure you'll bring in a flock of influential clients. Well, off we go."
Carly could do nothing but watch helplessly as she was wheeled out through the studio. She stared in impotent desperation as the director was stopped half a dozen times by crew members. Each time, she'd cry out and writhe a little harder whilst trying to ignore the sizzle in her privates as she tried to draw attention to her predicament. One or two people actually glanced at the case she was trapped in, but their expressions showed no sign of alarm.
She could do nothing as she was wheeled out of the studio and up a ramp into a cargo van. She watched as they drove up to the guard shack, then pulled out on to the street. Suddenly, everything went black. Terror enveloped her and she used what reserves she had left to break free. Then she heard the director for the last time.
"Wouldn't want to spoil the surprise of where we're headed. You just remember what I told you. We should be there in about 90 minutes. It was a pleasure working with you, Carly."
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