The Ornament. (Sensory Deprivation, Latex, Free Use, Female Protag. Finished story.)

She felt confused.

On the one hand, she acknowledged and appreciated that they had positioned her in a fairly comfortable and relaxed pose, on her hands and knees with her torso supported from above and her head pulled back for easy access. But on the other hand, it felt as though the discomfort from being in an uncomfortable position, even just standing upright, was supposed to be part of the experience.

Maybe because she was new, they were taking it easy on her. Maybe they felt that the full suit and mask would be enough. Or maybe they were testing her.

But she'd already been vetted. She'd taken the courses. Recorded the disclaimer and consent video with them. Signed all the paperwork. Discussed everything that she wanted from them. Did she miss something? Did they not understand her? Where was the miscommunication?

With her eyes and ears covered, a rubber ball with holes plugging up her mouth, her limbs secured to the ground, her body encased in a tight latex bodysuit, that left nothing but her crotch and breasts exposed, her mind was filling with questions. The most pressing question was, of course, where were they?

They said three minutes. Surely it had been more than that by now. Or had it not even been one? Time felt different for her. She clenched her fist tight, the squeak of the gloves barely audible to her, when she sensed, more than heard, someone approach.

Her heart started pounding as they drew closer, her mind racing. Who were they? Was it a man? A woman? Was it just one person? Two? More? With difficulty, she managed to swallow around the gag, and exhaled powerfully as she felt her excitement and fear climb faster than she'd ever expected. Whoever was with her started to move around her, and she could almost feel their eyes, drinking in the lewd wanton display before them. She felt herself start to grow moist from their gaze, unbidden, and behind the mask, her cheeks began to glow red. The shame of having her privates being seen by at least one complete stranger made her feel like she could die of embarrassment.

Then she felt fingers, thick and meaty ones encased in rubber, grab at her dangling breast. Her inhale was sharp and she tried to flinch away, but she couldn't move. She was trapped. Completely unable to stop this person from groping her. 'He', she believed, squeezed and massaged her breast, feeling it's soft flesh yield under 'his' strength, and then softly smacking it, watching to see if it would sway or bounce, before 'he' moved on to gauging her other reactions, first by circling her aereola with 'his' fingertip.

Her breaths were sharp and quick. She shuddered under 'his' probing touches. She'd become a scientific subject, to be poked and prodded and observed, for no reason other than to satisfy 'his' curiosity.