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Message-ID: <31998asstr$997834203@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: RamAirIIII@aol.com
Subject: {ASSM} Celia's Pet Project, pages 6-12
Date: Tue, 14 Aug 2001 20:10:03 -0400
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No, you're right, I don't have a code and I'm really sorry I'm here when I'm 
not supposed to be, but please, couldn't you-" "Ma'am, I believe that you are 
in possession more than one piece of Biotronics property;  You appear to be 
wearing on your person more of the same type of material that you're 
holding." "No, please, this is mine, I just don't have the keys to take it 
off right now, you see-" "I'm going to have to ask you to remove your lab 
coat, Miss Foregood." The large guard took the new body suit from Celia's 
limp hands. He placed it aside. "Really, what I have on is mine, I swear! I 
don't have to prove to you-" "Now, please Miss Foregood." The guard 
commanded, taking a step towards her. "Okay, okay, please, just don't blow 
this up into-" The guard took another half step forward and Celia quickly 
doffed the lab coat, reluctantly placing it into his outstretched hand. 
    She blushed hotly as he examined her fetish outfit and the cuffs on her 
ankles. Her root cinched breasts throbbed and her tortured nipples ached 
during the uncomfortable silence. "What you're wearing appears to be similar 
material to this other piece of Biotronics material. I'm going to have to 
take you into custody. Please place your hands behind your back." 
    Celia was shocked to see the guard pull a pair of handcuffs out of their 
sheath on his utility belt. "Oh god no, please, you don't have to do that, I 
won't, I mean I can't run, please!" Seconds later, her hands were firmly 
locked behind her, and the guard was marching her smartly towards the 
security office. He brought the new body suit along as evidence. 
    It took a few moments to get to the security office, due to Celia's 
five-inch strides. The large man walked stiffly beside her, his thick fingers 
completely encircling her upper arm. She wondered why he showed no reaction 
to her outlandish costume; all she wore was a corset, thigh high toe boots, 
shoulder length gloves, a chastity belt, a tall steel collar, and ankle 
cuffs. And his handcuffs! Her perfectly round, root cinched breasts jutted 
straight out before her, her nipples capped inside their hellish, conically 
shaped clamps. She wasn't technically naked at all, she supposed. She was 
much worse!
    Inside the office, the guard stood her in the middle of the floor. No 
chair was offered, and it seemed like a bad idea to ask for one. The guard 
picked up the phone and started to dial, for the police, she supposed. "Sir?" 
she said, her voice begging, "Sir? Please, can't we come to some kind of an 
arrangement?" She lowered herself to her knees, awkwardly in her bondage. She 
knelt before him, breasts out thrust, lips parted and trembling all over. 
"I'll do anything! Please, let me...?" Her eyes were filled with tears, and 
her heart pounded in fright. She couldn't go to jail!
    She was surprised to see him set the phone back down. He stepped in front 
of her, saying nothing, but with an eyebrow cocked. It was all the permission 
Celia needed. She wriggled forward, and used her nose to open the flap to the 
guard's zipper. Finding the zipper's tab, she clenched it in her teeth and 
tugged it down. The man wore no underwear, and she was able to pull his 
manhood out, using gentle teeth and fervent lips. He was enormous, and 
swelling rapidly. 
    She licked and sucked on him with frantic energy. This had to be a 
perfect blowjob! She had to make him let her go! He was thicker even than the 
big penis gag that she was accustomed to, and she had to strain to keep her 
teeth off his cock. She took him deep into her mouth, to the point where he 
was hard against the back of her throat and she had to time her breathing. 
Sucking a cock, kneeling, bound, in a stringent discipline costume, Celia's 
own fires soon leapt to a roar. Within moments, she was whimpering around his 
throbbing cock, her pelvis gyrating and thrusting. The rubber monsters inside 
her moved and ground around, but just not enough! She cursed the chastity 
belt; She wanted this great big man inside her! 
    It was not to be; only he would reach orgasm, making her gulp down gobs 
of his hot spunk. She was left just short, mewling and rubbing her thighs 
together in frustration. The guard gave her a gruff, approving nod, then 
zipped up and picked up the phone. She listened in shock as he said "Yes sir, 
I have her here. Yes, the suit as well. I'll bring them right up. Thank you, 
Sir." He helped her to her toes again. "But I.. We.. Aren't you going to let 
me go?" She whimpered.  For the first time, his face cracked into a partial 
smile. "Of course not. The boss wants to see you in his office. We've been 
expecting you."
    She hated the guard for what he'd done; The humiliation of having been 
used for a  free blowjob burned within her warped psyche. She was furious, 
embarrassed, and very, very turned on. As she was being led out through the 
lobby (fortunately empty at this hour) she noticed a clock, and smiled at the 
irony; It was six a.m., and across town a little box was opening to allow her 
the keys to her freedom. As it was, her next stop would probably be the city 
jail. Then some court appearances, and then the penitentiary for felony grand 
theft.
    The elevator climbed fifteen floors to the penthouse offices. Celia 
wondered which executive she was going to be brought in front of to be 
formally fired. She began to cry quietly. Wobbling along on her toes, she 
caught the name on the door plaque; Stanton Hanley, V.P. The guard at her arm 
held her on course to the middle of the luxurious office. The floors were 
black marble, the walls were in a light honey oak, and the statuary looked 
expensive. A small fountain bubbled in one corner.
    The man behind the desk steepled his fingers as he leaned back in his 
chair. He somehow seemed to look down on her even though she stood and he 
sat. He exuded power. His suit was dark blue or black, she couldn't tell, and 
his dark hair was cut high and tight. The guard handed over the shimmering 
red suit to this man. "Thank you, Johnson. That will be all for the moment." 
"Sir." The guard responded. The thick, ornately carved wooden door closed 
behind him on it's oiled hinges, and she was alone to face Mr. Stanton 
Hanley. Shivering in the air conditioning, Celia wished for her lab coat, or 
even that she had been released from the handcuffs. 
    He contemplated her for another long moment, then spoke. "I have been 
following along, watching you formulate the plans for your costume, here." He 
lifted it, and let it slide back through his fingers to the desk. "Quite 
ingenious, really. Fine workmanship, nice, simple design. The problem of 
course, is that you have duped the company we work for out of quite a lot of 
money. I have added up the totals of what we would have charged a customer 
for what you've made. The totals of technology development, materials, 
facility costs and machine running time put you well over the 
hundred-thousand dollar mark." Celia gasped, and then moaned aloud.
    "If.. If you knew what I was doing at the beginning, why didn't you stop 
me?" Celia asked in a forlorn voice. "I can try to pay the company back, if 
you let me keep working. I can sell my condo..." "That is not an option I am 
prepared to offer." A small light begin to break at the end of the tunnel for 
Celia. If this man was going to send her to jail, he wouldn't be having this 
meeting with her. Would he? He continued: "After I discovered your project 
here, I became interested in you. You became something of a hobby for me, and 
I pried into all of your affairs. If you had a feeling you were being 
watched, you were correct. There are small cameras planted throughout your 
home and even in your car. Celia's eye's were very wide.
    "What do you want me to do?" Celia asked in a stunned voice. She was 
tired, shocky, and an emotional wreck. A short silence followed, then he 
spoke: "I want you to wear this for me." He lifted the suit slightly. "I want 
you to put it on, and then I want you to be my plaything while you wear it." 
Her mind said "That's it? I might've done that for him anyway, without him 
having to scare the shit out of me! Besides, it's the weekend. A day or two 
of games to make this guy happy, and then this is all water under the 
bridge." Her mouth said "I can do that." Relief began to settle through her. 
She wasn't going to jail, and it sounded like she still even had a job. 
"Good." He said. "I trust you recognize this?" He placed Celia's time-lock 
keybox on his desk. "I had one of the security team pick it up for me when I 
saw what you were wearing into the building. Oh, incidentally, they enjoy 
watching you on your house cameras, almost as much as I do." Celia winced and 
turned beet red. "I even considered turning you into an internet site, but I 
was sure that you would "discover" yourself on display. Well, let's get you 
changed, shall we?" 
    
    An hour later, Celia had been unlocked, stripped, showered, dried, oiled, 
and had writhed into her creation, all under the watchful eye of Stanton 
Hanley. Removing the vibrator and butt plug from their recesses in front of 
him was humiliating to the core.  The suit however, was everything she had 
hoped for. It was an exact fit, tighter than latex and much more sensuous. It 
stretched around her with a perfect, wrinkle-free finish. It covered almost 
every inch of her body, from finger tips to pointed toes. The titanium ballet 
insteps and heels were the best fit she'd ever had. Even her head was 
covered, with openings for the eyes, mouth, nostrils (with small tubes 
inserted) and a ponytail. It's crotch was left well exposed, as was an 
opening at her anus. Like her corset, the suit forced her breasts through 
too-small openings, turning them once again into obscene, taught, round 
melons of angry flesh. They were the size of cantaloupes, and held well away 
from her chest by two inch "sleeves" at the suit's breast openings. Stanton 
had refused to free her nipples from their terrible locked-on cones; they 
remained at full stretch and clamp.
    The odd thing about the suit was that it tingled, all over Celia's body. 
It wasn't unpleasant, but she hadn't expected it. Stanton had apparently made 
arrangements for his absence in advance. To Celia's relief, she was to 
"entertain" him back at his home. To her utter consternation, he locked her 
high, stainless collar, a leash, ankle hobbles, chastity belt (sans plugs), 
and the guard's handcuffs back on her before they departed to his car!  
Mercifully, there was no one on the private, executive elevator at this hour. 
    Celia felt bizarre, exotic and even aroused as she was led, helpless and 
leashed by a man she didn't know at all. His car sat alone in the lot, a 
dark, sleek Jaguar. The handcuffs were uncomfortable behind her, even in the 
Jaguar's plush interior. Smiling, he looped the leash over the rear view 
mirror. The ride was a blur of sensations; The smell of the car's leather 
interior, the rumble of it's engine, the scenery flying by, and Stanton's 
hand caressing sensuously on her thighs, torso and breasts. Being in deep 
trouble wasn't too bad, so far.
    Stanton's home fit exactly with her expectations; It was huge, elegant, 
and set well away from others, deep in it's extensive grounds. She had tried 
to slither down in her seat as the gate man had waved them through; Either 
the man didn't notice, or took no notice of her. She blushed horribly as they 
pulled to the house; The butler had opened her door, and Stanton had reached 
across, handing him her leash! The butler made no expression of surprise at 
Celia's appearance and strict bondage. He merely helped her to her toes, and 
said "This way please, Miss!" She suppressed a small chuckle as she thought 
"Of course "this way" Jeeves, I'm on a leash!" The butler led her though a 
long corridor, and out into a large foyer. There, he looped her leash over a 
hook on a coat tree and departed without a word. 
    Celia stood in the corner of the foyer, shifting her weight from toe to 
toe, for a number of minutes while waiting for her "host" to re-appear. She 
was surprised and even relieved to see a maid come out of an adjoining room. 
The maid's outfit was classic "French" with some notable modifications. The 
corselett of the her bodice was cupless, leaving her large, pale breasts 
naked. Her nipples appeared to have been tatooed an unnatural deep red, and 
were held terribly stretched inside small, conical cages. The tips of her 
nipples bore heavy stainless rings, connected by a thin, chrome chain.  The 
maid's widely flared and frilled skirt fell short of covering her nude, 
shaven sex. She jingled as she walked, due to a small bell that hung from a 
ring pierced through her clit. She wore the classic black, seamed fishnet 
stockings, and black patent heels that were a  full seven inches high. Celia 
could see the shoes had locking ankle straps that doubled as hobbles; the 
maid was limited to ten inch steps. 
    No conversation between the two bound women took place. It couldn't, due 
to the tight-fitting panel gag that covered the maid's lower face. A web of 
thin chains ran from the panel up, over and around the maids head, through 
her lush hair, to terminate at a lock at the nape of her neck. Her cheeks 
bulged, indicating the large size of the plug in her straining mouth. Her 
short, dark hair nicely revealed her neck, which, Celia noted, was encircled 
by a snug fitting, tall steel collar with no lock; The collar had been welded 
closed. The maid dusted here and there, gave Celia a broad wink and a sharp 
pinch on the ass, and moved to the next room. "Hard to find good help" Celia 
thought. 
    A few moments later, the butler re-appeared and asked Celia to follow 
him. This courtesy was only lip service, due to the fact that the butler 
again held her leash. The shiny red catsuit continued to itch and tingle as 
Celia hobbled through another corridor and into a great, high ceilinged 
dining room. The suit also seemed to be growing steadily tighter all over, 
especially around her waist, chest and shoulders. She was mildly conscious of 
a feeling that she was standing especially straight, with her shoulders well 
back.  Celia was delighted to see that plates of breakfast food were waiting 
on the long, elegant table. It seemed odd however,  that there was only one 
chair, placed at the head of the table. 
    
    Stanton emerged from another door, his outfit had changed to a red silk 
robe over matching pants and slippers. He looked casual and relaxed, 
newspaper in hand, as he sat down in the lone chair at the head of the table. 
He glanced up at Celia and the butler who were both standing expectantly at 
attention. "Remove Miss Foregood's chastity belt, and then help her to the 
table please, Winston." With a dignified nod, the butler drew a familiar 
looking key from his pocket. A moment later, Celia was free of the tight 
stainless device. The cool air on her exposed snatch made her shiver.
    The butler then collected a startled Celia around the waist, and deftly 
carried her to the table. There, he placed her kneeling on the table, about 
five feet opposite the master of the house. The butler efficiently arranged 
two heaping plates of food, and placed one before each diner. Glasses of 
juice were poured and placed accordingly. Celia was starving, and couldn't 
wait to dig in. "Um.. Help?" she asked politely, and held her hands, still 
cuffed behind her, out towards the butler. "Of course, Madam." Ignoring her 
outstretched hands, the butler produced a drinking straw, and placed it in 
Celia's juice glass. With that, he withdrew. Stanton glanced up from his 
breakfast and newspaper. "Problem?" he asked. Celia sighed "No." She bent at 
the hips to begin eating without the aid of her hands.
    Before her lips reached the first morsel, she heard a loud "Thwack!" A 
line of fire appeared across her ass cheeks, eliciting a small scream from 
her shocked mouth. "No what, Missy?" a female voice demanded from behind her. 
"No SIR!" Thwack!   Oww! "No, Master! No Milord!" "Good. A quick study. I 
like that in a little slut." The whip-toting maid, obviously now free of her 
gag, appeared from behind Celia. 
    Celia knew where she stood, (knelt) and didn't want to incur anymore 
wrath. "Please Mistress, may I speak?" "You will address me by my proper 
title, which is slut Marie. I am the maid and estate fuck-toy. I may deny no 
one access to any part of my body. My position is second lowest here; You are 
lowest. Now, what do you wish to ask, slut Celia? "Um... May I eat?" Slut 
Marie cocked an eyebrow. "Of course, silly. It's getting cold!"
    As "slut" Celia begin licking and slurping the eggs, bacon and hash 
browns off her plate, she detected Marie sliding up onto the table behind 
her. Celia gasped as slut Marie stroked Celia's pussy. "Slut, put your bottom 
up in the air as high as you can. Good, don't stop eating; now arch your back 
and look pretty. Stick your little pussy out for me!" Celia ate as best she 
could, with no hands and Marie licking her protruding mons. "Slut," Marie 
said, "I like all these pretty piercings you have in your pussy. I especially 
like these two, through your little clit and it's hood." She tugged on them 
playfully. "Thank you, slut Marie!" Celia gasped between bites of food. Her 
nipples throbbed painfully from inside their punishment cones. "Perhaps 
master Stanton will allow me to attach your leash there, and take you for a 
nice walk after breakfast. Would you like that, slut?" "Yes please, slut 
Marie." Celia paused for a moment, enjoying Marie's busy tongue and intruding 
fingers. "In fact," Celia continued in a quiet, disclosing voice, "I was 
fantasizing about being led on a pussy leash when I had those rings put in 
me." Stanton looked up from his paper, an eyebrow arched. Marie's tongue was 
too much; Celia couldn't stop the orgasm. Swept away with it, she moaned 
"Yes, please, slut Marie! Ooh, oh, oh Yesss!
    It would be a number of hours, ten to be exact, before Marie finally 
snapped a lead onto Celia's pussy rings. The after-breakfast walk had been 
put off due to master Stanton's raging hard-on. Accompanied by slut Marie, he 
had whipped, paddled, clamped, bound and tormented just about every inch of 
Celia's body. He had also enjoyed each of her openings repeatedly and at 
length with his long, thick cock. Finally, the three of them passed out for a 
well-deserved post-coitus slumber. They slept for hours, only arising when 
the butler announced that "Tea was served". 
    
    When she awoke, Celia immediately noticed that the suit she wore had 
grown noticeably tighter. It squeezed her everywhere, from finger tips to 
toes, even across her face. All that was bearable, not even really 
unpleasant. The part that gave her distress was in the corset area of the 
torso; from the openings around her breasts to her waist and hips, the suit 
had become much, much smaller and stiffer, as if it was heavily boned. She 
had found a full length mirror, and gasped at her waist; it looked smaller 
than she had ever seen it. She worried that it would have to be cut off of 
her, as it seemed to have lost most of it's elasticity. "Well", she thought, 
"I'll only have to wear it for today, tomorrow and probably Sunday. I can 
probably take it for that long, but thank goodness I have to be released to 
go back to work on Monday!
    When Marie attached the leash, she elected to use Celia's much heavier 
and deeply pierced labia rings; her clit ring didn't offer a secure enough 
anchor for giving sharp little tugs on the leash.  A number of hours 
previously, Celia had been slowly and carefully fitted into a set of "back 
prayer" wrist to neck cuffs. The slow and careful part had been the 
stretching and massaging of her arms and shoulders to accommodate the 
extremely strenuous position. The stainless steel wrist cuffs were two inches 
wide and lined with rubber; They were attached by a very short chain to the 
back ring on her tall, stainless steel posture collar. To make matters worse, 
wide, snug fitting cuffs were fit onto her upper arms, just above her elbows. 
These were linked close together by a small, heavy lock. The resulting 
posture forced Celia's breasts to thrust obscenely out and up, while her 
shoulders were pulled cruelly back. Celia complained that her shoulders ached 
horribly, and Marie provided her with aspirin, muscle relaxants, and a large 
penis gag.  
    
    "No more complaints?" Marie asked. Celia rolled her eyes and groaned. 
"Good. Come along then." She gave a sharp tug on the pussy-leash. Celia 
squeaked, and fairly leapt to obey. Her effort was especially notable, in 
that her slender ankles were still securely locked into the hobbles connected 
by the five inch chain. The ballet-toe high heels built into Celia's fetish 
suit weren't too much obstacle after all the practice she'd had "en pointe" 
lately. Still, her feet and legs ached from the continued strain, and she was 
grateful for the pain killers. 
    
    The two fantastically clad women moved slowly down the path, although 
they took many tiny, rapid steps. Slut Marie, the french bondage maid,  was 
still secured in her ten-inch hobbles and seven inch heels, so she was not 
much better off than Celia. About a quarter mile into their walk through the 
estate grounds, Marie said "I must admit, slut, (wink) that you're taking all 
this very well." Celia "Mmmphed" and gave a little shrug. "I mean, I can't 
believe how calm you are. When master Stanton told me that he'd changed the 
formula on your skin suit to make it grow permanently onto you, I-" Marie was 
interrupted as Celia's garbled scream fought it's way past the huge penis gag 
that was locked into her mouth. Wide-eyed, Celia inhaled and screamed again 
and again. She fought crazily against the stout bonds on her wrists, arms, 
throat and ankles. Marie clutched the leash tightly as the apoplectic Celia 
yanked at it.. "Oh my god," Marie cried out with a shocked look, "You didn't 
know yet, did you?!"

    Epilogue:  It took Celia several months to adjust to the permanence of 
the bright red fetish suit she wore. Actually, she no longer "wore" it, it 
had become her own skin. If she suffered a scuff, a cut or a whip mark, it 
repaired itself to it's original shiny state in a few days. Her nerve endings 
had grown all the way in after three weeks, and she became aware that she was 
actually quite naked but for her chains. She wore the "back prayer" and 
hobbles continuously since they had been locked onto her during her first day 
at the estate. This wasn't to keep her as a prisoner; she had been told that 
she was welcome to leave. Instead, she remained in the demanding bondage as a 
condition of being allowed to stay. Her hands, arms and shoulders were kept 
in working condition by nightly application of electronic muscle stimulus 
pads. Oddly, her fingernails and nail beds appeared in the new skin, but her 
toes and their nails were gone forever inside the shiny ballet toes. No hair 
except for the "pony plume" at the top of her head came through the new skin. 
The tough, new epidermis maintained it's brilliant, polished appearance 
everywhere on her body. 
    Celia's permanent new outfit caused quite a stir among the numerous 
guests that would attend Stanton's lavish fetish parties. Stanton finally 
bowed to the flood of requests for copies and variations of the suit, and a 
quiet new department of the Biotronics corporation was born. Stanton 
acquiesced to Celia's only demand; As the suit's designer, she insisted that 
all future "permaskin" fetish suits incorporate a stout corset, ballet-toe 
heels, and that like Celia, the wearer's  nipples must be locked into the 
same permanent clamps that she wore. 
    
    They are selling an amazing amount of these suits, and there's a 
wonderful short story to go with every one. Perhaps some one who has read 
this story will relay a tale of a different girl, and her adventure of 
wearing another permaskin suit?

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