Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
The alarm, muffled though it was by the latex like material covering Rowan’s ears, had been an annoying and incessant companion for the last two hours. It had become a maddening monotonous metronome to the woman’s current plight. This was supposed to have been a rare occasion when the captain of the small cargo ship Ophelia, had the old but faithful cargo hauler all to herself to indulge her personal desires without worry of discovery by her crew. She loved and trusted her crew, but every woman has secrets they don’t want shared, and Rowan River’s appetite for stringent bondage, torment, and predicaments certainly classified as a secret she wanted to hold onto. She loved to feel hopelessly and utterly bound, to be restricted in such a way as to be unable to move. Perhaps it was the result of a life spent crawling around the cramped utility access passages on starships or perhaps it was simply something innate in her. Some might find it odd, but more than that, she feared how her little pastime might undermine her authority with the crew. She worried how the talented team might abandon such a perverse and submissive captain.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
She swore she would tear that fucking alarm out as soon as she escaped…well more accurately at the moment, if she escaped. Rowan had started the day planning for a grueling and wonderful twelve hours confined and restrained, suffering a set of pre-planned torments administered by the ship’s VI or Virtual Intelligence. Now though, that plan had gone out the window as the old expression went. According to the timer in her neural net, she had endured about half of her original allotted time, and just over two hours since her connection to the ship’s VI had blinked out. It had left her stuck in the exact state and routine she had been in when whatever happened to the Ophelia’s VI occurred. And of course, the fucking thing had frozen up on the single worst section of the planned twelve hours. This section had the latex like suit she wore activating built in vibrating areas at her nipples and pussy. They were set at an agonizingly low setting meant to slightly arouse, but do little else.
Two hours ago, it had done that, but now her body was tired of it and the vibrations were little more than an afterthought thanks to the other routine she was currently stuck in. This infinitely looping cycle included a vicious little breath play setting she had found on a dark corner of the net. It would engage suffocation sessions at random intervals. She had planned for this portion to last only 45 minutes, but with no command to change to the next settings arriving from the unresponsive VI, the dumb computer directly running Rowan’s suit and other functions remained locked in its last set of commands.
Breath play wasn’t normally an issue, but hoping to take things to the next level this time, the devious captain had downloaded a program that wouldn’t simply cut off her air for some predetermined or even random set of time. No, in her infinite wisdom, Rowan had picked a program designed to take her all the way to a blackout each time it activated. It used her vitals to gauge when it was enough without killing her in the process. It meant each time the randomized session of asphyxia engaged there was nothing Rowan could do, but suffocate until the relentless machine was satisfied that she had passed out. There was no point in trying to hold her breath and outlast the suffocation. It simply wouldn’t matter.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
Anxiety at not knowing when the next breath play session would engage and the absolutely mind fucking string of continuous beeps, drove Rowan to strain fruitlessly against her bonds for the umpteenth time. Her latex clad body tensed and groaned in the agonizing contortion position she had selected for her internment. It was a fairly difficult chest stand and head sit position with all of her weight born by her chin and shoulders. Rowan was mostly an average woman physically, but she had always been exceptionally flexible. It was probably a contributing factor to why she had been a utility rat so often in her early days aboard starships.
Still, it was a trying position for her, and the latex suit added to the difficulties of the situation. Well, it was really some high-end polymer composite material she couldn’t pronounce the name of, and it was designed with integrated smart tech that allowed it to adapt and alter itself to a limited capacity. To Rowan though, it looked and felt like latex, so it was latex as far as she was concerned.
Pulling against the restraints holding her in her current predicament had zero chance of doing anything other than tiring her and intensifying the aches in her body, but still she persisted out of frustration laced with a growing hint of fear. Her hands were trapped inside metal ball mittens that were anchored to the bottom of the secret storage compartment she had selected as the stage for her little bit of fun. Her arms were stretched back away from the direction of her head. Her fingers tried desperately to release from the metal bar they were forced to hold in the metallic spheres, but the inflated latex like material that covered her head to toe, also filled the cavernous area inside the mittens, preventing even the slightest twitch of movement.
At the same time, she tried to lift her latex covered chin from the hard metallic floor, with only a moderately better level of success compared to her hands. Her metallic collar was anchored to the floor giving her very little range to move in, and lifting her chin placed ever more pressure on her aching chest and shoulders. Her own latex wrapped ass squeaked as it brushed the top of her encased head when she tried to move her hips. Another metal restraint held her knees locked a few inches above and in front of her featureless hooded face. What little movement she managed there, only reminding her how her knees ached from being pressed up against the roof of the cramped storage compartment. And finally, another metal restraint anchored her ankles to the floor holding her legs stretched out in front of her pinned head, feet flat against the metal floor. It left her toes as one of the few things she could move with some degree of liberty.
She knew her efforts to pull against the metal restraints were pointless. They were remotely activated and deactivated by a routine in the bondage program she had hidden in the ship’s VI, and they were a solid alloy unbreakable by her meager strength. With the VI unresponsive, there would be no release, even after the twelve hours elapsed. She was truly stuck. It was something out of her darkest fantasies. The idea of having no way to escape a potentially dark fate had once seemed so alluring to her, but was now a frighteningly uncertain reality, mixing arousal, frustration, and terror in an awful cocktail of emotion.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
GOD DAMNIT! Why hadn’t she at least turned the suit’s sound cancellation system up to 100 percent instead of 80 percent? Just another poor choice in an ever-growing litany of bad choices that she regretted. Also, why hadn’t she designed this particular part of the routine with variable erogenous zone stimulation instead of the frustrating steady low level? The vibrations she was getting only fueled her building rage at the overall predicament. Her wrath evaporated, displaced by dread an instant later as she heard a well-known faint click. The valve to her singular air tube sealed itself. Another breath play session starting without any other warning. She instantly tried to calm her body to sustain the precious little air in her lungs. A part of her mind wondered why bother if the system was going to keep the air tube blocked until she passed out, but right now it was one of the few things she could control.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
Despite her efforts to slow her pulse, her heartrate quickened as her body tried to force more blood to her oxygen starved body. Familiar dizziness creeped into her consciousness. She tried to focus her mind away from the sensations. How many times had she experienced these feelings and the agonizing ones yet to come? Perhaps fifteen or twenty times? The dizziness in her body gave way to a sickening feeling in her stomach, a tightness setting in her tired chest. Her body yearned for air that the cruel device hidden a few feet away, impossibly outside of her bound reach, would only give once the full suffocation cycle took place.
Keep focused, she told herself, but her body pressed toward open rebellion. The tightness in her chest transformed into an unbearable burning, the muscles in her throat stretching and constricting in a desperate act to beckon some fresh air into her body. As the moments ticked on, her mind reeled. Her normally calm and unflappable demeanor gave way to pure unadulterated panic. Her usually cogent thoughts reduced to animalistic desperation and primal fear. She began to lose control of her body. It thrashed as best it could. Her hips rocking a few inches side to side. Her arms trying to pull free from the floor. Her latex clad knees, and the metal restraints holding them together, scraping and skidding across the top of the tiny cargo space turned prison. Her toes flexing and stretching inside the latex, and erratically slapping against the metal floor.
A rational part of her mind told Rowan it was useless. That such actions only served to exhaust her strained body. That she should remain calm and let the asphyxiation run its course. That part of her was lost to the torment of the moment. Held so rigidly, her frantic attempts at thrashing were reduced to little more than small pitiless movements as her body tried to will itself free, in its distressed search for precious air. Her thoughts became jumbled and unintelligible to even herself. The burning agony in her body was unbearable. Time trickled by without meaning. The horrid feelings wracking Rowan’s body stretched on for what felt like eternity, but were in reality little more than a couple minutes. Finally, the panic vanished as her mind swam through a fog of complete disorientation before quiet blackness took her.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
The chirp of the alarm slowly came into focus once more as Rowan groggily awoke from yet another induced blackout. Her body remained fixed, immoveable in the hell of her confinement. As clarity returned, the captain broke emotionally for what was likely the third or perhaps fourth time in the last couple hours. Tears streamed from her closed eyes; eyes sealed beneath the oppressive latex. She made ragged sobs into the thin life-giving air tube that exited the panel gag of her latex hood. Her nostrils, useless under layers of inescapable latex, were now filled with snot.
How had it come to this? How had some well-deserved kinky fun turned so dark for her? She cried for several minutes thinking about how this was likely where she would die. The fucked-up part was that it wasn’t the agonizing suffocation sessions that would kill her. The program would patronizingly make sure she only blacked out, and even if the strain became too much for her heart, or some other part of her, the program would pause briefly to let her rest long enough for the torture to resume safely.
No, instead, her fate appeared to be worse. She had only planned to spend twelve hours here so she had elected to forgo attaching any means of supplying herself with nutrients or, more importantly, water. Dehydration would be her reaper after a few excruciating days. A slow descent into delirious thirst. With the ship’s VI down from some catastrophic failure, no signal would be sent to her various restraints, and she would simply die from being denied life-giving water. Eventually, her despair abated momentarily, and her sobbing came to an end.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
She kept pinging the hardwired relay box that would normally keep her connected to the ship, but nothing came back, not even an error message. Perhaps if she had chosen a different space for her predicament, she might have been able to get a neural message out to someone on the crew. Unfortunately, the small storage compartment she locked herself into was one of the three the Ophelia had for when discrete cargo needed transporting. It was lined with materials that blocked all incoming and outgoing signals and sensors. Without the hardwired junction box, she had no connection to the wider universe. Her world was reduced to the tiny cramped space and the embrace of her cruel latex suit across her entire body. The stalled program was an uncaring torturer and jailor in her trapped world.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
Worse still, she knew she couldn’t even hold out hope that somehow one of the crew would accidentally stumble upon her, or even notice she was missing for that matter. They were, for once, all enjoying the pleasures and entertainment that their current port had to offer, and at Rowan’s insistence no less. Annette and Corvin would be neck deep in booze, drugs, and gambling as they tore a hedonistic path through the notorious casinos and bars of the orbital station the ship was docked at. The captain knew from experience that those two, despite being the physically closest to the ship, would be the last to make it back aboard.
And the rest of her crew? Well, they had all pooled their money and booked a stay at a fancy high-end resort planetside for the next week. Even Nemari, the ship’s quiet and dour but brilliant navigator had actually gone with the rest of the crew. The woman almost never left the ship, a frustrating habit that often put a damper on Rowan’s self-bondage plans, but it was a personal inconvenience that the captain gladly put up with since she had never found a more intuitive and naturally gifted navigator than Nemari. The captain couldn’t help but wonder how could someone so fascinated with traveling the vast expanse of the universe care so little about actually seeing the places of interest in it? It had been a joyous moment when Nemari and deigned, for once, to join the rest of the crew in their reverie. Yet, it would appear that had been another domino in dooming the overeager bondage enthusiast masquerading as the Ophelia’s captain to a grim and bleak fate.
Between a drunken bender by some and a way too expensive fancy resort, Rowan knew no one would be back from shore leave until the full week was done with. The ship captain’s time would be long past before that. Her fate seemed to be predetermined, and all that she could do was wait and endure who knew how many more breath play sessions, well, at this point they had turned to pure breath torture sessions to be honest.
Beep, Beep, Beep, Beep…
The trapped captain’s despair turned to a macabre thought, Would the crew even find her body once they returned? Probably at some point, but how long? They did well enough with legitimate cargo jobs to rarely use the trio of secret compartments, and who would think to look in them when their captain went missing? How long would the crew search for their absent captain before her second in command, a small Ardonian male with an aquamarine crest, took over and they took on new jobs?
Lost in a morass of bleak thoughts, Rowan didn’t notice this time when the valve subtly closed again. Her first indication was how stale the air became, and how her body was taking shallow quick breaths to compensate. Before long, burning returned to her chest and her body’s needs began to elicit a painful revolt against her unforgiving restraints. Her lungs begged to be given fresh oxygen. Her chest felt like it was both exploding and collapsing at the same time. Unable to actually thrash, her body simply shuddered in the controlling suit and bondage. Her cognitive skills disappeared with a frightening speed this time. The proud ship captain erased, replaced with the suffocating latex creature doomed to repeat this vicious cycle until the bitter end. Whatever little freedom her position and restraints offered was greedily taken by her desperate appendages. Then the stillness and the blackness abruptly consumed her again.
Returning to the land of the conscious, Rowan became faintly aware that something from the past two hours of unchanging anguish had actually changed. The beeping was mercifully gone, and the buzzing in her suit was silenced as well. Was her mind still swimming through hypoxia? No, her thoughts were becoming clearer by the moment and still the beeping and buzzing did not rematerialize. Maybe the ship’s VI had rebooted? She quickly tried to transmit a neural message to the control box and make a connection to the ship’s VI. Rowan was crestfallen when the connection remained offline. She started to wonder what had caused the change then?
Her question soon found an answer as the built in speakers that could also act as ear plugs for the suit crackled to life startling the long-suffering woman. The voice that emanated was soft, cool, and collected, a faint whisper of boredom ever present. It was Nemari’s, “Hey, captain, you are safe. The ship’s VI suffered a catastrophic cascade so I am manually controlling your systems while repairing the problem.” Confusion blanketed Rowan’s mind. Nemari was supposed to be at a resort on the distant planet below, but instead she was here and was controlling her kinky little program. Embarrassment whipped through her mind and body.
Relief soon took hold over Rowan though as she realized someone was actually rescuing her. Nemari was rescuing her right? Trepidation oozed into Rowan’s mind as the mounting evidence pointed to other possibilities. She was still currently bound and there was no sound of the navigator clawing open the storage space. Instead, the navigator continued in her typical monotone voice, though now it was laced with something else, compassion or reassurance perhaps? “Don’t worry I’ve paused the routine you set up. That asphyxia stuff seemed to be a particular doozy if I am being honest, boss. You took it like a champ though,” the other woman casually observed with a hint of respect present.
The miraculous rescue rocked the captain’s mind. Nemari seemingly had taken control of her little play routine, saving her from a truly grim fate. How had that happened though? An answer soon followed from the navigator, “You are probably wondering what the hell is going on, so let me explain.” A short break and a small inhale came across the speakers before Nemari continued, “The crew, myself included, thought we should show our thanks for all of the hard work you’ve been putting in lately. And well, we all know your preference for strict bondage, so we conspired to get you to think you would have the run of the ship while everyone left you alone to play out your fantasies.”
Rowan’s face flushed with embarrassment under the thick suffocating latex. Her crew knew about her kinky little secret already. She was shocked and dismayed at the idea. Were they going to abandon her? Would they lose all respect for her? Then a realization occurred to her, they knew about her secret, and not only had they stayed on as her crew, but they had worked together to give her a chance to enjoy her favored pastime. Tears welled in her eyes, not from pain, terror, or despair, but from pride and happiness this time.
Her internal thoughts were cut short as Nemari continued to explain the situation, “We wanted to make sure you were safe though, as well, since this hobby of yours seems to be a bit dangerous. I volunteered to stay back and monitor you.” There was another pause, the navigator’s voice was a bit unsteady when it returned crackling in Rowan’s ears, “I was monitoring remotely when the ship’s VI gave out. I raced over as soon as possible. And then when I saw what you had planned, I was surprised by everything you had decided to go with. I mean twelve hours seemed a long time, and this new asphyxiation program? That’s, well, when I realized how extreme you actually like it. I mean I had read some of your journals that were buried in the ship’s net in preparation for overseeing this little vacation, but I thought it was all just fantasies, but no you’re the real deal captain.” The words were again laced with a faint respect again.
“I just wanted you to really enjoy yourself. You’ve been so exhausted and stressed lately,” Nemari sounded worried in more ways than one. Her voice cracking with emotion that never seemed to be there typically. She seemed so earnest in her words. Rowan reflected on what had transpired. Nemari had secretly remained behind to watch over her like some guardian angel. She’d have to have a chat with the overzealous navigator about boundaries considering how the other woman had read her personal journals in preparation for this little staycation. That said, she couldn’t be mad. The navigator had saved her from a terrible fate. She could tell this was meant as a gesture of love and kindness, even if it was a bit misguided and secretive.
“I want to know if you’re, okay? I know you still can’t message me so just nod or shake your head, I’ve got cameras stashed in there with you so I could monitor you better,” Nemari explained, hesitancy to the words. That was a loaded question certainly, but right now Rowan was safe and honestly ecstatic at how things had played out. Truth was, she trusted the navigator on a daily basis with the entire crew’s lives. She made a perfect guardian angel to Rowan’s personal pastime. With all doubt gone now, the latex clad captain nodded as best she could. The collar held her neck close to the floor, and as she rocked her head her chin pressed hard into the floor of the storage space.
“So, uh, as I see it there are two ways that things can go from here boss,” Nemari offered, her voice still slightly wavering, uncertainty there, but a bit of cold confidence coming back. “One, we can get you out if you need a break or if you want to be done after your unexpected ordeal. Or two, we can continue on with the session. I’d stay here monitoring you, maybe add some fun little surprises to your session even. We’d use the emergency code you had with the ship’s VI as a safety signal. Plus, I have access to all of your vitals in case things start getting to be too much…So yeah, uh nod if you want to continue and shake your head if you want to end it here and now.” Rowan had a decision to make, but her kinky mind already knew the answer. Without hesitation she gave the small movement that passed for a nod.
With a giddiness and excitement to her voice that seemed so foreign to the navigator’s usual demeanor, Nemari said, “Great! So, I’ve set it up so any signals you normally send to the relay box will come straight to me and only me. Feel free to message me a neural if there is anything you need, or if you need to use your safety signal. That said, I hope you don’t mind if I only respond via actual audio. It feels like it’s more in line with your little scenario all locked up like living cargo.” The words sent a pleasant shiver down, or really up in her current position, Rowan’s spine. She gave her slight nod of assent.
“So, you want to know what’s in store for you, my little object?” The heat between Rowan’s legs spiked at being called an object. Nemari had definitely read through her personal journals about her fantasies. A ragged moan escaped the captain’s mouth into her air tube. A vigorous nod resulted in a series of squeaks as latex rubbed against metal yet again.
A slight giggle came over the line. Nemari certainly could see from the vitals that Rowan was horny and growing more so by the moment. “So, while I found your suffocation program quite severe, I couldn’t help but notice you left the built-in vibrators of your suit just buzzing away at a steady slow pace. That’s just…well it kinda felt a bit too simple for someone so extreme as yourself captain. So, I thought, what the hell, I ought to help you out by writing a new edging program for your exclusive use,” there was a small mischievous flicker to the navigator’s words. Rowan smiled and moaned into her gagged mouth. Nemari continued, pride seeping into her voice, “My program is designed to bring you to the absolute precipice of an orgasm, but it will deny you that last little push over the finish. It’ll do it by first testing you to get some baseline stats and then it will carefully monitor your vitals, adjusting your stimulation so as to never allow you to actually climax. Devious, right?”
Rowan approximated another nod. She was wet beyond belief at the idea of such a program. She had dreamed of something like that, but her skills with programming were not good enough on her own, and she hadn’t found one she trusted on the net. Nemari on the other hand was a talented programmer she did trust. “Thought you’d agree boss, now here is the kicker, seeing as you originally programmed your session to last twelve hours and it got disrupted early, I thought I’d reset the release timer to twelve hours. That sound fun?” The glee in her words was unmistakable.
Rowan’s mind reeled at the prospect. Could her body take that long in its current stress position and could she last that long being denied an orgasm? She nodded along nonetheless too aroused to make an informed decision. Fuck she was horny, and Nemari was pressing all the right buttons at the moment. At this rate, the captain would climax before the damn program even started. Not really, but it sure as hell felt that way right now.
“Of course, this is all about making sure you have a good time, so for the last 30 minutes I figure I’ll adjust the suit’s vibrators to maximize your stimulation, and well, I wonder just how many orgasms we can rip from that bound body of yours?” Nemari’s voice dropped a bit with her next words, “How would my little object like that, huh?” Rowan writhed in ecstasy at the thought. The captain’s trapped hips gyrated, her toes flexed against the latex, and her head nodded as vigorously as it could pinned to the floor.
“Mmmm, I thought so,” the navigator said as the inbuilt vibrators of the suit activated. A timer in Rowan’s neural net reset to twelve hours. Just as the other woman promised, the first 30 minutes consisted of the suit’s vibrators slowly building up to establish a baseline of Rowan’s vitals as she approached an orgasm. Once the program had the data it wanted, the real fun began as it triggered the vibrators in maddening ways. It kept driving Rowan to the edge of a beautiful orgasm, only to drop away leaving her frustrated and desperate for relief.
After the first hour, the restricted and sexually unfulfilled woman had no idea how she would handle ten and half hours more of this. Yet, never did she even consider using her safety signal in the hours to come. Instead, she gave herself over to the animalistic needs consuming her physical body. Her arousal intensified by the occasional tease or taunt from her navigator. Nemari was once again affecting her typical cold and detached tone, saying nonchalantly things like, “Oh, that was close,” or “You must really be frustrated, but don’t worry you won’t cum yet my little object.” There was something undeniably hot to Rowan’s mind at the cold emotionless teasing and objectification.
By the time the final half-hour arrived, Rowan had been reduced to a moaning, sniveling wreck that only cared about getting a desperately needed orgasm. Her mind, distracted as it was, barely registered her navigator announcing, “Not that it matters to me, but your final half-hour is about to start. I guess that means you will finally get that last little bit of pleasure you’ve so pathetically been chasing.”
Suddenly, all the built in stimulators on the suit exploded with activity. If Rowan’s body hadn’t been so fully restricted, it might have flopped and danced across the floor from the abrupt overstimulation. As it were, her physical form simply seized in place. The intense frustration of moments before was replaced with a mind melting pleasure.
The next thirty minutes were a blur as Rowan’s mind and body drifted in a sea of ecstasy. Time ceased to have any meaning. Her pleasure filled mind couldn’t even tell if the bliss she felt was one long singular orgasm, or if it were a series of orgasms that simply flowed seamlessly from one into the other. In the end, it didn’t matter. Rowan’s mind slipped to a primal place bereft of any conscious thought. When the stimulation ended, the ship captain didn’t even seem to notice as her mind remained a heavenly mush in the divine paradise and afterglow of her bliss, before passing out.
It came as a surprise that when her mental faculties finally returned, she was no longer in the stress position or locked in the cramped storage container. Instead, she lay in her soft bed. Her navigator turned savior sitting beside her bed. The suit’s hood now gone, leaving a messy mop of sweat slicked brown hair smeared across her face as she stared up. Somehow, she managed a few words, “Oh, uh, th-thank you, uh N-Nemari. That was beyond my best fantasies.”
The navigator blushed at the compliment and thanks. “Least I, or any of the crew, could do for you.” A small prideful glimmer shimmered in Nemari’s eyes as she continued, “Boss you deserve this and everything else you want, no matter how crazed some might think it is. And none of your crew, and I mean none of us, would dare judge you for it. We just want you to be happy considering all that you put on your shoulders for us.”
Warmth that had nothing to the physical exertion of the past eighteen hours pressed into Rowan’s chest. She was thankful for her amazing crew.