Boring! Boring! Boring! Her parents were out at yet another business dinner and Laura was alone in the rambling manor house her father had bought, lock stock and barrel, from the noble family who had previously owned it for five hundred years. The rooms, stairs, nooks and crannies were made for games as a eight-year-old, but for a modern eighteen year old, totally uncool! The manor was miles from anywhere and nobody came to stay or hang out.
She had played her computer games until her eyes were crossed. Her meal of pizza and ice cream she dragged out to half an hour. Now she was wandering aimlessly around the rooms picking things up or kicking them and sighing sadly. Finally, she reached her least favourite room in the house, the gun room: dark, echoing and stuffed with weapons and hunting trophies which she hated.
She meandered randomly but ended up in front of the low stone plinth with the lattice box on top. Her dad said it was used for transporting prisoners in the middle ages. Made of a dull metal which never seemed to tarnish, a neat door led into the centre. Lots of restraints gaped around the saddle-like seat. This had a central ridge, a raised front pommel and a flat back. On a whim, she opened the door and wormed her way inside. The last time she entered everything was too big or the wrong shape for her eight year old body but now everything seemed to fit. The seat moulded to her shape. The leg, arm and body restraints curved naturally around her. The hand and foot cages were her size. The metallic bra-like contraption encased her C-cup breasts through her tee shirt. The head restraint fitted her but her hair was a nuisance. However, the lollipop-like protrusion on the mask front entered her mouth as though it had always wanted to go there.
Nothing locked, but her imagination took her to the fantasy of a noble lady being transported in this, after capture by a handsome pirate. The fantasy coloured a sweaty ten minutes. She pushed the restraints away and slid out. The awkward move brought her nose touching close to the metal edge, and she saw the letters etched eons ago. “Oh yes; the inscription”, she thought and stood back, “Medieval Latin. We have a dictionary in the library.” She pitter-pattered off to find it, returning coughing with the dust off the shelves. Slowly deciphering the archaic lettering and finding the words in the dictionary, she reached the conclusion, after much trial and error, that it said something like, My work will begin when I touch bare skin. She looked at her translation and the strange lattice prison. Maybe it only works if the captive is nude! She thought this a long shot but getting into it in the nude could be a thrill; better than her fingers and Harry Styles!
Over the next twenty four hours, before her parents left for their weekend away, her excitement mounted, and at long last their car went down the drive. She started with a shower, then washed, dried, and piled her hair on the top of her head so it was out of the way. Laura thought about underwear but just settled for a fleecy robe. She skipped to the gun room, cool air whipping past her legs. The lattice box stood as before; enigmatic. She tossed the robe onto a nearby chair, stood in front of the door and unlatched it. She wiggled through the narrow opening. Cold metal gave her goose bumps. The seat spread her and nestled against her most intimate parts. A moan of pleasure escaped her open mouth. She latched the door and settled herself tighter on the seat. This could be very erotic!
She started the logical sequence of closure. Pushing home the metal socks, and the below knee, thigh, and waist bands, she moved to the bra-like chest cover. This took longer as she arranged her ample breasts in the cups and made sure her nipples poked through the central holes. That felt comfortable! The collar swung into place. She took a deep breath as the cold of the metal made her shiver. Swinging the mask into place, her mouth opened to accommodate the projection. Just the hands to go! Her right hand pushed the metal glove over her left. Now to the right. Putting her fingers inside the bar, she twisted it into place and it shut.
She closed her eyes and thought of being a captive unable to move in this cage. The seat had warmed but was still giving her thrills. Cold air on her exposed nipples gave her more erotic sensations. A pleasant calm washed over her. A series of clicks like a woman in heels sprinting on marble were followed by a metallic clang. Her eyes sprang open to see the decorative (as she had thought) bolts had been driven home on three sides of the door. As a reflex, she tried to jump up, but nothing moved more than a fraction of a centimetre. She felt the wrist and ankle bands tighten, mould to her skin and set solid. The below knee tether distorted, driving her back into the seat. The thigh, waist and neck bands shortened, tightened and hardened. Laura’s fantasy was fast becoming reality! She could not move. An unseen restraint caught her upper arm and forced her back. Only the breast cover and mask remained loose.
She started to calm herself. There must be a way to reverse this accident. The supports in the head mask contracted and set. The lollipop projection filed her mouth with thick foam which congealed to a honeycomb that filled every crevice. Now this was really scary! Her mouth was welded shut and her body as one with the metal frame. The comfy saddle sprang to life. The pommel conformed around her clitoris and started to vibrate at just the right frequency. Her eyes went wide and her nipples sprang erect. This was way out of order! The metallic breast cover constrained and ossified; a fixed, erotic squeeze. Each erect nipple was pierced by six triangular points. The stimulation was increased by a regular electric discharge. Laura’s world constricted to pure lust as the box worked its spell. The saddle and the nipple points were driving her insane with frustration.
Everything stopped. A tube arose from the seat, found her urethra, entered her bladder and expanded it with a liquid. She felt full to bursting. Another tube insinuated its way into her bottom, seeping through the smallest gap, expanded to fill her passage and then filled her with another strange liquid. Each organ was washed out several times. The stimulation sprung back to life. She half saw the lattice box sink into its plinth and the stone reform above her. She and the box hit the bottom as she orgasmed for the first time. The endorphin rush cooled her panic.
Another pseudopodium grew out of the seat. This entered her virgin vagina. A wide metallic probe, it disrupted her hymen with no change of pace. She screamed in her head! A column, twenty four centimetres long and eight in diameter, opened her. The vibrating, rippling phallus allowed her limits to be pushed. Unseen, a thin straw entered her cervix and deposited a silver droplet in her womb. Everything stopped, withdrew and let her recover. The mask piped nutrients into her stomach. Fifteen minutes later it started again and repeated the cycle until she collapsed exhausted.
The lattice rose until it was in its previous place on the plinth. When it released her she grabbed her robe and staggered off to her bed.
Laura woke like a cat. A slow stretch of the arms and legs, an arch of the back, a hand across the face, a nose out to sniff the air then an eye opened. She felt different. Her memory of the confinement, along with the panic, probes, and pain, had faded like an old photograph, vaguely remembered but still a distant image. The orgasms, however, were fresh and brightly coloured like an original Van Gogh.
She bounced out of bed and looked at herself in the mirror; no wheals, no bruises, no rope burns, a slight tingle in her nipples and clit was all that remained of her night of captivity. She decided to go for a swim: totally out of character! She dug out her costume from the bottom of a drawer. Either it had shrunk or she had grown! Her breasts and hips were only just contained. Grabbing a towel from the en-suite she skipped down to the new wing containing the twenty five meter pool. She dived in and free-styled sixty four lengths. Why? Well, she had this health and fitness regime in her head. Where it came from was a mystery to her. She came into the kitchen for breakfast; fruit juice, fruit, and a glass of milk. A change from double espresso and a muffin!
After her breakfast, she rested until the urge to use her dad’s gym came into her head. She spent an hour using the weights and resistance machines before returning for lunch of chicken salad. An afternoon walk in the fresh air, sun bathing and a nap drifted by to dinner of steak, vegetables and potatoes followed by fruit salad. She wanted to be alone again. In the evening, she caught up on her e-mail, Facebook, and Twitter, but made no mention of her startling discovery. As she shut down her computer, the last member of the staff left. A quick shower later, hair organised and wearing the robe and nothing else, she returned to the box. She snaked her way in. Everything seemed to fit her as if purpose built and contoured to her body, especially the seat. It was even at body temperature! She went through the closing sequence. A fusillade of clicks and the final clang announced her captivity; she was part of the box.
Two small probes touched her temples. “That’s new,” she thought. A voice whispered in her head. “You have lived as instructed today; time for your reward.” The pommel engulfed her clitoris again and vibrated. Her nipples hardened and were gripped by the points. The electrical pulses were in tune with her body. A protrusion rippled and vibrated on her G spot. All three adjusted to keep her simmering on the edge of orgasm while training her with occasional bursts of stimulation to step up her lust and arousal. She was being played like a musical instrument. She could not believe how aroused she was! Eventually, after thirty minutes of rising need, all three rose to maximum together and she exploded in a silent scream of a climax. She rested. The box returned to its routine leading to the silver droplet in her womb, repeated every thirty minutes until exhaustion overtook her. Somehow she was now aware of this insertion, though it was as unseen as ever.
This became her usual routine; morning swim, gym work, long walks and healthy eating. Over three weeks she changed. Her hair and skin shone, muscles rippled and she radiated an aura of sexuality. Even her parents noticed on one of their visits! Each night she went back to the box to claim her reward. The orgasms, increasing in intensity and duration, were as addictive as crack cocaine; the insertion of the droplet a small price to pay.
After three weeks, she missed her period. The box almost sounded pleased when it announced the fact she was pregnant. No insertion of silver droplets that night. She was kept on the lustful edge of orgasm for the whole session. At the end her climax was like being caught in a breaker while surfing; tumbling, pummelling, disorientating even though she was immovably held in the box. The following morning her muscles were sore and her brain addled.
Each night, as the pregnancy progressed, Laura returned to the box. It moulded to her changing shape, monitoring her and her developing pregnancy, filled her with fluids, nutrients and dispensed orgasms for good behaviour. She took to wearing dresses of the loose, flowing feminine type and continued her fitness program. She would tell her parents when she was at twenty eight weeks.
The box started to modify her training. It concentrated on her hyper-sensitive nipples to arouse her and give her the reward. By twenty four weeks she was achieving climax from nipple stimulation only. Once this was established, the breast cover moulded into a rippling, sucking mouth on each nipple, just like a hungry baby: the process of feeding getting her more and more aroused until a final lick of a soft, rough tongue sent her over the edge to a mind numbing orgasm.
Her parents were mortified at her revelation. What would it do for their image? They grasped at the idea of home schooling and a private clinic to monitor her pregnancy. Laura remained in the house, responding well to the one-to-one tutoring, although the box was much more use than the tutor.
She went into labour at her due date and delivered a baby boy, totally normal except for silvery blonde hair and eyelashes. At her request, he was put to her breasts immediately to imbibe the antibodies and proteins in colostrum. His sucking felt just like the stimulation she received in the box and a final lick of his tongue sent her to ecstasy. When she recovered, she thought, “Small babies feed every two hours. If he does that, I will be constantly aroused but it will do wonders for mother-to-baby bonding!” As they lay there together, his eyes opened and she gazed into two smoky grey pools showing the wisdom of the ages in their depth.
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