Sofi Turner shuddered into climax. A brief moment of ecstasy that washed over her and left her feeling… How did she feel? Unburdened? Free? Something like that. In fact now that she had taken the first step…

It had been a shitty month in a particularly shitty year. Sex had been the last thing she had thought of or even needed for quite some time. So rubbing one off, to a porn story on the net, seemed a significant landmark.

It had been a good story. Nicely paced and well written, ticking all her kinks and quirks. Older man, non-con, latex, bondage and of course the dark ending. Happily ever afters never did it for Sofi. The girl in the story needed to be condemned to a life of slavery. A one way trip into a life of bondage to be used, abused and humiliated. All the better if the collar (there had to be a collar) was welded on, the nipples, septum and vagina pierced, and the slave was given a uniform of latex and publicly humiliated.

If there was some forced lesbianism, rape, flogging or any sort of pain that was a big plus. Pony play or pet play was okay too if it was non-con, but heroines who secretly wanted to be a pony left her cold. Public humiliation was good too; being paraded in bondage or in latex were plot devices that always worked on Sofi.

Just thinking about all that had her warming up again. Sofi looked at the clock to see that it was eleven at night. Not too soon to go to bed…

Her mind made up she got up from her computer desk and made her way downstairs to find Mike. Predictably he was slouched on the sofa in the darkened front room. There was a beer on the coffee table in front of him and he was staring vacantly at the telly.

“What you watching Mike?” The question startled the man, obviously lost in the hypnotic light emanating from the flat screen on the wall.

“Oh! Sofi, didn’t hear you come down.” Mike tried to sit a bit straighter. “Old war film love, found it while flicking. Not seen it for ages. Got Clint Eastwood in it.”

“Who?”

“Nice one. Way to make me feel old,” grimaced Mike.

“Mike you’re over forty; you are old.”

“Nice, such a loving daughter. So have you just come down to insult me or do you have a higher purpose?”

Sofi stared at the man. ‘You’re not my dad, Mike,’ she thought. But that was a battle to fight with him later. Emotionally he was far too vulnerable to cope with that conversation. 

In one way the death of her mother, Mike’s fiancé, had been a relief. The illness had been long and hurt the whole family. Towards the end mum had been changed by the cancer and the medication. She had become twisted and selfish. Nasty, hurtful things were said, then later she had no memory of what she had said or done. 

Mum had gone long before her body died. Mike had born the brunt of it. He’d done it deliberately so Sofi could continue at school. He’d taken on a new member of staff at the business and only gone into work once a week to check on things. He stayed home and nursed mum during the day, and through the long nights.

When mum had been lucid and friendly Sofi had been invited in to her room. But the visits had become less frequent, and each snapshot of her mother showed her more aged and haggard than before.

“Oh, sorry, Mike. Drifted off there. Umm, I just came down to say, ‘night’. Going to bed now.”

“Oh, okay, good night love. Sweet dreams.”

“You too. Don’t stay down here all night either. Get some rest in a proper bed.” Mike grimaced again at that. Sofi knew why.

He had not used the Master bedroom since mum had died. On those occasion when he had not fallen asleep on the sofa he had used the guest bedroom. To be fair it had become his bedroom as mum had gotten worse. But since her death he had rarely made the journey up the stairs, past mums room, to his own.

Sofi turned, and returned, to her bedroom. She sat down on her bed and thought. She was ready but was he? Mike was still clearly deep in grief. Lost. How could she help him? She had tried talking to him. He always closed her down. With school over and no job she moped around the house trying mostly not to irritate Mike.

She remembered the evening mum had brought him home. She had been fifteen and in her third year at high school. When mum had said she was going on a ‘hot date’ with a man she had met wild horses could not have removed Sofi from the house. Mum had been three years single after dad had died on the M6. When she had seen Mike she had been equally surprised at the lust and jealousy that had lit up inside her. How cruel was fate that her mum had found this man before her?

Her mum and new step-dad had noticed and put it down to an adolescent crush. She had overheard them joking about it. She had learnt to cope and cover it up. Then as she saw how happy they were together she had learnt to live with it.

Then at sixteen mum had taken the parental controls off of the computers, and Sofi had discovered porn. A massive journey of self discovery began, and what an eye opener it had been. She now had herself pegged for the moment as a bisexual masochistic latex fetishist with a serious case of the George Clooney Syndrome or possibly the Electra Complex.

Her virginity had been given to Gary Osbourne in the woods behind the school. He’d had a reputation amongst the girls for being ‘a good lay’ but she had left the encounter feeling like she’d been kicked in the crotch by a weak squid. So Edith May had been her next dalliance. Edith had been a much nicer experience, but ultimately unsatisfying. The woman did many of the right things but she just was not Mike.

So then the self bondage experiments had started. At first both parents had to be out or away for those to be considered. The thought of discovery had initially been too horrible to contemplate. But as she had laid in bed bound and horny she had thought more and more about what would happen if she didn’t get free.

By this point mum had been ill in bed most of the time so, it would have been Mike who would discover a trapped Sofi. Slowly this had become the fantasy. She helpless, bound by her own hand, discovered by the dashing, sex starved, step-dad.

After a while this fantasy got stale and she began to worry about what would really happen if she were discovered. So she wrote a letter to go with the keys that would grant her freedom. The first draft simply explained that she was probably more embarrassed than he was, and could he please help her get free? Then as mum’s health deteriorated she once again started entertaining offering herself up in her moment of vulnerability.

The letter in the box under the bed at the moment explained that she had been playing self bondage for years, that she was sorry if he was embarrassed at finding her this way, but it would be their secret if he fucked her before putting the keys in her hand.

If she bound herself tonight how would Mike react if he found her? She didn't really want him to but she had to consider the possibility. After thinking on it a bit she sat down at her desk and started writing a new note;

Sofi then folded the letter in half and wrote in large printed letters; MIKE PLEASE READ THIS FIRST!

After rereading the letter she started her preparations. She pulled out her gear from under her bed. It was in a box that had some clothes folded neatly at the top. But once they were removed the fun stuff was revealed. 

The first thing she pulled out were the keys and the old letter. The letter was torn up and placed in the bin. The keys were placed on the bedside cabinet with the new letter on top.

Sofi then stripped naked putting the clothes she removed in a laundry basket she kept in her room. She then crossed to the curtains, already closed against the cold winter night, and opened a small crack in them. Enough that, come morning, some daylight would enter the room.

Next she got out her catsuit. Bright red and made of supple, glossy latex rubber it was one of her favourite things she owned. Bondage games aside she would pull it out from under the bed and put it on whenever she could. She loved everything about it. The smell, its feel and how she looked in it too. It had cost a bomb back when she had a job at the local store, a job she had surrendered to help out at home.

She wasted no time in putting it on. First rubbing her arms and legs with silicone dressing aid the latex slid on enveloping her in its reflective embrace. Reaching behind she pulled the full length zipper up her back until the tall collar of the suit was tight about her throat.

She then opened the crotch end of the zip. Taking her biggest butt plug, smeared heavily in lube, she slowly worked the monster into her ass. It took some time and hurt quite a bit. It stretched her so much, the pain building, until suddenly, it passed her ring and was almost sucked in. She felt so full and her anus burned deliciously.

Next was the inflatable dildo. She wasted no time in ramming it deep in her cunt, fucking herself with it a few times before burying it up to its hilt so only the tube leading to the bulb could be seen. She revelled in the sensation of it grinding against the butt plug filling her ass.

Taking the bulb in hand she rapidly pumped air into the device. She squirmed as she felt the intruder swell within. Soon her cunt too was protesting at the size of the phallus, its girth now stretching her from within. Every movement now would be exquisite as both cunt and ass protested their abuse. She then closed the zipper, with the tube from the dildo emerging from the glossy camel toe that was her quim, the only clue to the self abuse going on inside.

Reaching under her bed again she fiddled with the strings that tied the next item to the slats under her mattress. Once free she pulled the leg spreader out and, throwing the duvet aside, she placed the device at the foot of her bed. Then using the ring in the centre of the bar tied it to the eye ring she had attached to the foot of the bed when she first did this. The leather cuffs at each end were left open, awaiting her ankles later.

Next she sorted the electrics. Two plug timers were removed from the box and installed in the socket by her headboard. One then had her bedside lamp plugged into it. It would turn her lamp off at midnight and then back on at half past five in the morning. Giving her time to escape her bondage before anyone was up. 

She thought about this. Since the funeral Mike had not risen before nine, often much later. Enough light would come through the curtains by eight in the morning, theoretically she could do without this timer. Making a change though was risky. Why tinker with a system that worked? Impulsively she set the timer for half past seven. More time having fun but still a good margin of safety.

The second timer controlled the Hitachi wand. It would turn the vibrator on and off for periods of time no shorter than fifteen minutes at random throughout the night. There were gaps of up to two hours where she could get some sleep. But there were also sections of the dial that kept the tormentor buzzing for hours. She plugged it in and turned the dial without looking at it so she had no idea what sort of torment she was going to endure.

After then plugging in the wand into the timer, and securing the two wrist cuffs to the headboard, she took a short breather as the movement to get all that done had really churned up the intruders torturing her womanhood and ring below. The next part was going to make things even harder. But it had to be done as her bondage would make it nigh on impossible later.

The next part were the ballet boots. These were a source of great lust and frustration for her. She loved the way they looked; patent black leather lacing up to just below her knee. The foot held rigidly at en point with the long slender heel to ensure the wearer held that position. She also loved the feel of wearing them with her foot forced to point down. But as of yet she could not walk in them. The pain of standing on her toes was delectable but she found balancing extremely hard to do. So far the best she had managed was a few steps whilst holding on to furniture.

Still, she laced them on tight, and gleefully padlocked the broad strap over the laces locking them on herself. The first locked on items in her progression onto bondage. As soon as she had she realised she’d made a small error. The main light for the bedroom was on. Damn! This would mean either unlocking the boots or crawling over to the wall switch or…

Holding on the bed frame for support she timorously rose to her feet. She hissed through her teeth at the discomfort in her toes. Concentrating on her balance she stepped away from the bed towards the switch. Three painful steps later she reached the wall. The euphoria at this small triumph almost negated the pain in her feet and her loins. 

Flicking off the main light, to leave the room illuminated by the bedside lamp, she gingerly set off for the bed. Delight once again washed over her at reaching her goal. She sat once more on the bed, lowering herself carefully least she drive home the butt plug and dildo even deeper within her. 

Then came the item that had required the early fitting of the boots. The corset was confining enough that once on it was a effort to reach her feet. It mostly rendered the padlocks on her boots moot too, apart from the aesthetic and the knowledge the bondage would be a little harder to escape.

The corset was a glossy black PVC item she had found on e-bay. It encased her from just below her tits to just above her crotch. After fastening the busk at the front she began pulling in the laces behind her. This action too, as she sat on the edge of her bed, caused the toys within her to wreak more havoc. Enough turmoil that twice she had to take a break to calm down before she continued. Past practice meant she had learnt the knack of self lacing and she eventually had her torso crushed within its unyielding embrace. 

Expertly tying off the laces she then pulled the harness out of the box. Stepping into it she cinched it tight about her now hourglass waist, securing it with a small brass padlock. Thus, not only locking it on, but the corset too. Experimentally she turned the wand on. It did not start which meant, for now, it was safe to attach it to the harness. The harness was designed to keep the head of the vibrator in just the right place no matter how much she thrashed about.

She was nearly there now and so taking the last items out of the box and placing them on the bed she swung her legs up onto the bed too. Struggling down the bed  in a weird crab like way she managed to buckle her right ankle onto one end of the spreader bar. Then using the bar to push the fettered ankle away she managed to cuff the other leg too. Feet secured she squirmed up the bed to the small pile of fetish gear she had placed there.

It was time for the hood, but before that she popped in her earbuds for her phone and scraped her hair back. She then pulled the latex hood on and pulled the zip down the back until the collar of the hood too added to the constriction of her throat the catsuit was already providing.

Taking the cable for the headphones she plugged it into her phone. She selected her ‘slavery’ playlist and instantly white noise was piped into her ears. Later that would be replaced with sounds from favourite porn movies or recordings she had made herself. All played at random on an endless loop. 

Her favourite was the sample from a Gwen Media movie called Sisters, where Mz Berlin tricks a gullible Madison Young into slavery. As she seals her victim in a latex vacuum bed she plays the new slave the rules she must live by; “Rule number one, you are no longer a person, an object. Rule number two, You will no longer make eye contact with anyone at any time. Rule number three, Whenever your owner is within ten feet you will drop to your knees…” Pure fiction, and not very good rules, but the quantity of latex and the eventual ending made the short film one of Sofi’s favourites.

With the playlist running she was oblivious to outside noise. Isolated in her own latex prison free only to suffer and endure the torments she was inflicting upon herself.

With the hood smoothed down and squeezing her face nicely she picked up the gag. She’d chosen the ring gag as it would fit the fantasy, of Mike finding and raping her, better. Stretching her jaws she manoeuvred the ring in between her teeth. Happy with its positioning she pulled the strap behind her head and buckled it tightly.

The posture collar was next and it was one of the items that excited her the most. Once in place the zippers for both hood and catsuit were out of reach. As the collar locked it was another layer of security as well as a potent symbol of slavery. Collared Sofi ‘knew’ she was a slave.

Placing the collar under her chin she wrapped it around her neck and threaded the two buckles at the back. Cinching the collar so it gripped her throat she placed two padlocks one in each buckle. She could not hear them click shut but she felt them engage through her fingers. The knowledge she was locked in stoked the fire smouldering between her legs.

She picked up her phone again and set the alarm to half an hour before the lamp would turn back on. The last act that required bare hands she took the latex gloves from the nearly depleted pile and wriggled her hands within. She was nearly totally sealed within latex now. The only skin that felt fresh air were her eyes nostrils, and mouth.

Next Sofi reached over with her wrists pressed together to see if she could reach the keys and note on the bedside cabinet. Happy that it was possible she took the two remaining open padlocks and placed them in her left hand. She then put on the gas mask using mostly her right hand.

Inside the gas mask was total darkness. Nearly a year ago she had removed the circular lenses and replaced them with solid black plastic disks. The result was the perfect blindfold. No pressure on her eyes, no chinks to see though; it was gas tight as well as light tight. Total sensory deprivation. Isolated from the world, impaled, plugged corseted and bound this was nearly nirvana for Sofi. Without a real owner, a Master or Mistress, this was as close as she could get. It wasn’t perfect but it was pretty close.

Laying back she felt for the leather wrist cuffs. Before putting them on though she checked there was enough slack, that with wrists locked in place, she could pull off the gas mask when the phone sounded the alarm in the morning. Happy she could, she took the final step and buckled and locked the restraints about her wrists.

She wasn’t trapped yet, but she may as well have been. The moment of no return occurred when the timer turned the lamp off. In the dark, even with the gas mask removed Sofi would not be able to see the combination padlock that secured the cuffs above her head. She didn’t want the gas mask off yet so she would not know when it was too late to back out.

Just as she was thinking about this, a coincidence of magical proportions occurred. The wand fired up as the white noise was replaced by Mz Berlin, “Rule number one, you are no longer a person…” Sofi writhed in ecstasy imagining she was Madison Young, trapped in latex and soon to be sold into slavery for life.

Mike Sandford stared blankly at the credits as they rolled up the screen. Briefly escaping reality as he watched Where Eagles Dare. Burton and Eastwood were gone and reality was seeping back in.  It was the will reading tomorrow. It was just going to be Sofi and him but he still was not looking forward to it. He new what Chloe had written. What she wanted. He was not sure if it would happen. Sofi though, was in for a surprise.

There was a thump from above, followed by a familiar clink. Mike smiled. That was a welcome sound. Turning the telly off Mike softly climbed the stairs. Turning the landing light off he could see there was no light under Sofi’s door. She must be well away.

Gently he opened her bedroom door and crept up to her bed. Sofi writhed and squirmed in her bondage. Peering into the gloom he checked she was using the gas mask, seeing that she was, he crossed back to the door and turned on the room light. Oblivious Sofi struggled in her self imposed bondage. A glorious sight for Mike; a petite teenager, clad in glossy rubber, writhing in sexual lust before him.

Mike spotted the new note. Picking it up he read it through. Looking down on the girl he considered his options. It was a good sign that she was up to her self bondage again. Her libido was back. She was getting better.

Picking up the phone he tapped in Sofi’s access code; Mike had picked that up some years ago as she turned on her phone over a breakfast. Scrolling through the screens he found the set alarm and turned it off. Putting the phone down he crossed to the curtains and pulled them shut once more. Next he crossed to the lamp and turned it off, so when power was restored in the morning it would not come on.

Then he left the room and retrieved an item from his own bedside cabinet. Returning he examined the chain that was secured by the combination padlock. It was pretty slack. Probably so she could pull the gas mask off in the morning. From time to time it was getting a sharp tug. But mostly Sofi’s writhing form was content to hold her arms in place with the chain slack.

Carefully, so not to give his presence away, he took the padlock he had retrieved and threaded the open clasp through a link above the combination lock. Once through he used it as a hook and pulled the chain slowly taught before threading it through another link, this time below the combination lock. Finally with a quick twist he aligned the shackle and closed the lock. Just as he did Sofi gave a firm tug on the chain. Mike froze unsure if the girl would notice the removal of slack.

Sofi continued to writhe as the vibrator tortured her sex. Mike allowed himself to breath once more. She was trapped now. She simply did not know it yet. He reached down once more and thumbed the tumblers around; two, three, one, nine. The lock sprung open. Mike took it and the keys from the bedside and put them in his pocket. 

He crossed to the door and took a look back at the woman he'd thought of as his daughter. He remembered the first time he and Chloe had found her indulging her fetish. Chloe had read the note before carefully placing it back exactly where she had found it. The couple had retired to their bedroom. Chloe, an earnest expression of utter seriousness on her face had taken Mike's hand in hers.

"Mike, love, if I lose this fight with cancer I want you to promise me you'll make her yours.

"I already consider her mine, Babe. She's my daughter now." Mike had deliberately chosen to misunderstand.

"No, I mean intimately. She wants you, craves you. You read that note. This is no crush."

"I'm twice her age, Love."

"Look me in the eye and tell me, if you were single, that you wouldn't be all over that in a flash."

"Where is this coming from, she's your own daughter."

"Her farther is dead and I may be dying. I need to know my baby is safe and looked after once I'm gone. It doesn't matter if you call her daughter, she'll never call you dad. If you break her heart you'll lose her, and then my baby really will be alone."

"You'll win this fight, the doc seemed hopeful about this new chemo."

"Promise me, Mike. Promise me."

"Okay, Chloe, if, and only if, I lose you. Well then I'll do as you ask. I love her too you know."

Abruptly the vibrator clicked off and a muffled cry of despair leaked out of the gas mask. Mike smirked at the girl's frustrated wail. She'd had a rough start to life. Her dad dead at age twelve and her mum six years later. In fact Chloe had passed two weeks after her daughters eighteenth birthday. Well tomorrow she was in for one hell of a surprise.

Mike clicked off the room light plunging Sofi into darkness once more. He closed the door and made his way to his bedroom. Tomorrow was going to be interesting.