Free Moonspawn by Bruce McLachlan Page A

prepare her for her encasement.
    Manoeuvring her as though she were a lifeless mannequin, the women started to thread a set of tight latex stockings up her legs, the material more dense than any normal clothing, making any movement a battle.
    The rings of her fetters were pulled through slots at her ankles, and a severe straitjacket of uncompromising rubber was drawn up, its sealed arms flapping, the many buckles and straps chiming and swaying like reeds.
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    ‘You have a lot to learn here, slave, and I’ll be glad to make sure you learn your lessons flawlessly,’ promised the seneschal.
    Intimidated by the sight of the awful garment, Kira started to shuffle away, only to have her hair grabbed and used as the means to keep her still and deliver her into the garment. As she was held the strands were gathered up into a high ponytail and fixed with a stern elastic band, keeping them there and making the roots growl as they were stretched by the pull upon them.
    The fist forced her forward, and wincing she followed it, her arms still too weak to offer any real resistance.
    The back of the attire was unzipped and opened, and her arms slipped into the waiting sleeves. The jacket slithered back, the cool latex interior riding along her limbs. Then she saw the hood that hung before her eyes, the sight of the loose bag growing immediately more close as it was taken up and forced over her head, the back of it opened from neck to crown.
    The helmet offered her nothing, not even nostrils, and she started to panic as she was forced to draw restricted breath through the meagre chinks of the garment. Once they sealed it though, there would be no such access, and even though she knew she had no physical need to breathe, the idea of suffocation still frightened her.
    With a groan of debauched passion Kira answered the feel of the smothering jacket being zipped up. Two of the spectres drew it in, making the latex stretch across her front, squeezing her breasts as the other zipped it up.
    The compression onto her torso made it distinct with every hampered breath she stole, the latex compressing her ribs and squeezing her belly inwards as the jacket served another role – that of a stringent corset.
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    ‘I’m going to make you adore being utterly submissive.
    I’m going to make it so that the very thought of control never enters your head.’
    One woman each helped themselves to an arm, holding it firmly and tightening the buckled straps that ran the length of the limbs, the strips placed only to make the embrace of the jacket more forceful. The third woman busied herself with the laces of the back, the criss-crossing path of the thick cord laid over the zip, adding further to the power of this fist of a garment.
    Kira’s breath hissed out as the jacket drew ever tighter, the feel of it stoking a libidinous haze. When they started to draw her arms in she almost fainted from the pleasure of being bound thus.
    The women crossed her arms and pulled them back behind her, each hauling at a limb while the third kept hands in Kira’s back, fighting the strength of the other two so as to stop Kira from falling.
    ‘I’m going to break you, Kira, turn you into the most grovelling simpering vampire slut the world has ever seen,’ said Cassandra, and there were two soft snaps as she was locked into the classic configuration of this most non-standard straitjacket.
    Two of the women began to apply the chest straps that ran around her body, adding even more stretched belts to her sentence, enclosing her within a terrible cocoon of compressing bands.
    Whimpering from a mixture of fetishistic glee and actual discomfort, Kira was suddenly thrown into jeopardy as the helmet was zipped up, pressing tightly to her face. The zip ran straight down after leaving a small hole through which her red hair exploded forth as a curled plume.
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    Instinctive panic took over and she flung herself against the numerous bars of her prison, trying to get free and