Against the wall.

Jen wished that the wall was warmer to the touch, It gave her ever-weakening knees support though, and the almost forgotten word 'direction' obtained a definition. 'Along the wall' it was.

The never-ending action under the panties and the never-yielding snugness around her head was maddening. Sliding down the wall and having another one was all she could think of, but continued walking with the last fading remnants of her resolve.

And the wall gave in. Jen's fingers pressed and could reach beyond what was a set of blinds. She knew she could not afford to skip those. It was progress.

The air on the other side was a little warmer, and the floor felt a little softer, giving the girl some courage. She walked into the supposed middle of the new room, away from the wall. Anything but the wall. However, the open space was even more tiresome. Literally nothing. Jen could not think of any non-swear words. It just did not make sense to describe her feeling in anything less expressive.

"You're holding something."

"Am I? This better not be one of your tricks..."

Yet she was holding something. A petite sleeve made of rich, weighty latex. A couple inches below, there was an intricate wristpiece with a familiar texture. Other hand checking in on her collar. Match.

"No..." — Jen's heart started racing.

"Yes. The obstacles proved trivial. You were fated to find it and become one with it."

Still in disbelief, the girl gave the full garment a proper touching session. A tight latex dress with wide, decorated springy metal closures at the hem of the long skirt, the waist and the wrists, held by some holders. The girl fell down to her knees and let out a first whimper, but was struck by a vision of herself wearing the dress with the boots and the hood. It almost drove her to the edge. She knew she could not fight it. She had to be inside of it. Her despair itself was transforming from an opposing **** to a mode of foreplay.

"The new Jen will be loving it. Good that you're already on your knees. That's exactly where you start donning the dress."

The girl remained where she was for some more seconds, after which her breath steadied, and her movements became enthusiastic and unrestrained by second-thoughting. Her hooded head entered the skirt from below. The odor of latex was the strongest here, while the thinnest, yet effective layer of lube was felt and not smelt. She was wiggling deeper and deeper into a hole where she was designed to stay. The space was very limited, and she really hoped that these mighty holders would not fail her and she would not slip right out.

She held onto her future armpits and dove forcefully into the very narrow, but stretchy latex neck. Once it was through with a 'pop', the rest was easy. As Jen's fingers entered the sleeves, it turned out that the wristbands were not the end of them. Her hands inside the thick latex mittens were **** into fists, leaving her down to the smells to explore the world around her.

"Now lock yourself in this dress, and you will be complete."

The girl obeyed. With her heart pounding, she pressed one of the bracelets against her hip and then pressed the other one against it. It contracted, entrapping her hand inside the mitten for good. Then same went with the second one.

Then she slowly pressed her waist with her mittens, wondering how tight will it allow to be? Turned out pretty tight until she could not squeeze it anymore closed, and even trying to pull it apart again required a degree of dexterity she no longer had.

Already lit from the inside from all the new sensations from her body, the girl bent over to secure the skirt around her ankles, and that was when the two holders attaching her to the ceiling let her go. Yet there was a third one holding her waist. Not ready for all these changes in leaning points, she tripped over the metal hem itself, prompting it to contract on its own.

She did not fall over though. This mystery rope was not letting her go, even when she dared her pointy toes to let go of the floor completely. It was this moment of flight when everything that was building up to that moment exploded at once, delivering an orgasm so divinely strong that being faithful to anything except trying to repeat it was impossible. The floor was no longer there, the rope must have pulled her away from it. In fact, it was hard to tell where the down direction was at all.

"There's only one direction. Up."

ENDING #61