The Sphere (FF, bondage) by 3586088863

The Sphere by 3586088863 ((straitlaced8@hotmail.com)

A bondage enthusiast goes for a ride in her newest creation - with a small change in plans. A short bondage sketch. (FF, bd)

Connie had been told what to expect. After all, she was the one who requested the device and laid out some of its specs. But for all her experiences as a enthusiast of odd bondage scenarios, she was still unprepared for the sight of the globe standing in the middle of the spacious empty hall. From a distance it looked something like a glistening ball bearing resting on a small dais.

“Whoa. That’s… strangely beautiful.”

As she drew nearer, she observed in its sheen her own shapely catsuit-clad form, flanked by the more conventionally dressed forms of her engineer assistants, who had constructed and prepared the structure with care. Laying her hand on the surface, Connie was surprised to find the human-sized sphere not particularly cold. Upon receiving an exploratory rap, the sphere responded with a thud that suggested fibreglass.

The lead assistant had found herself staring idly at Connie’s attire. But now, a slender girl not five years out from college, she quickly leapt up as if to stabilize the structure. “Not too hard, please; you don’t want to push it off its base. We spent too much time with the coating to have a terrible dent put in it.”

“I see. Is it ready for me, Sonja?”

Sonja merely led the woman to the far side of the sphere, where Connie noticed a faint circular trace, about a foot and a half in diameter. The assistant pointed to two small catches interrupting the trace.

“See these?” She flipped them up, and at her signal the remaining assistants redistributed themselves for the coming task. Producing two small rubber plungers, she grasped the circle by their suction. After several revolutions of the pair of plungers about their pivoted handles, the circle unscrewed itself from the curved surface and separated, still attached to the plungers. By looking into the hole Connie could now see that the sphere was constructed of a coated gray material at least two inches thick.

Placing the removed assembly gingerly aside, Sonja stopped to brush the hair out of her eyes before fetching a stepladder for the dark entrance. “Step right in–we’ll be right with you.”

As the sphere rocked with the new weight of its occupant, Sonja replaced the circle, screwing it in tightly. A couple of turns, and the two surfaces were again flush. From outside there was no hint that the mirrored sphere contained a living, breathing–and highly aroused–woman.

Connie watched the interior of the sphere fade rapidly until the sole remaining light, from a small ventilation hole near the top, cast a small number of dim images on the inside of the sphere. As she heard the final snap of the catches as they locked the circle in place, her hands wandered to satisfy her urges.

Sonja peered up through the newly opened hole into the dark interior of the sphere, still holding the circle most recently removed from the structure. “Left leg please?” Her employer squatted awkwardly, dangling her suited leg out through the opening.

Sonja motioned to one of her coworkers, who presented her with two oddly shaped pieces of metal. While Sonja held the foot in place, the large piece was fitted around the ankle, surrounding it on three of four sides and also extending downward to form a platform for the foot. The smaller piece was then held against the ankle, completing its enclosure; the two threaded pieces were lifted back up to the site of the hole and screwed in together. Two external catches ensured that the restraint would not come unscrewed from the inside.

Connie twisted her head slightly, noting the snug fit of the neck restraint that now fixed her head outside the sphere. To either side, down the sloping sides of the sphere, she could see her gloved hands, each also screwed tight and grasping an external handle, as well as a remarkably clear reflection of the ceiling.

Aside from her affixed hands, feet, and head, Connie remained inside the shell. Near its dead center–where, in fact, her engineers had aimed to place the center of mass–lay her nether regions, which she now found herself frustratingly unable to touch. Her rhythmic rocking attempts at release did not go unnoticed as the sphere began to rise up on the lift cable.

As it ascended, Connie felt herself helplessly swinging within the mammoth structure; her breathing became even more irregular as she continued thrusting against her suit, hoping the latex would slip just so against…

Sonja noted the timing of the rocking and suppressed a grin.

Connie only recently had been called back from her literal flight of fancy by the activity of her assistants as she neared the ground again. She briefly saw three cones carried toward her before they disappeared under her. Several thuds were followed by a rhythmic rotation, presumably that of the spacers being screwed into place.

As she continued to descend she saw that she was coming down in the midst of a close-nestling transparent bowl. After her sphere had been seated properly with the aid of the spacers, her feet would be suspended between these two layers; her head and hands soon would be as well.

A platform was raised to a position near her hands. Sonja clambered up carrying three more conical spacers to be added to the upper hemisphere. Carefully edging out over the sphere as the platform moved, she affixed the spacers in their proper locations.

“I’m just checking to make sure you’re still doing alright inside, ‘kay?” Sonja asked as she reopened the hatch through which Connie had initially come.

“Looks good.” As the platform descended again behind Connie, Sonja was still giving her coworkers a description of the remaining task. “Ok, we’re all set for the final join. Ann, finish this up, please?”

As the sturdy hemispherical shell came down over Connie’s head, she could hear the odd amplification of her own breathing. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she thought she could identify the smell of her sex wafting strong through the enclosed space. Supported by its rim on the lower bowl, the upper shell came within about nine inches from her head and, as far as she could tell, evenly all around.

Releasing her grasp of the the handles, Connie tried to touch the upper shell with her hands, but the shell remained out of reach as her wrist refused to slide more than a quarter of an inch in either direction. She could probably barely touch the outer sphere with her ponytail if she swung her head just so–but then considering the neck restraint, she dismissed the idea as a bad one.

Now from within the clear shell Connie could see her well-rehearsed assistants simultaneously approach the equator of the outer shell from all sides.

With a thud, more plungers were pressed against the perimeter of the join so that the two halves could be screwed together. Yet even with so many helping to walk clockwise around the perimeter, the top half shell rotated only very slowly and hesitatingly, sinking slowly into place as it mated with the bottom half.

From within her prison, Connie watched the inner surface of the sphere come closer and closer to the spacers as it sank; when the rotation stopped, she noted with satisfaction that the fit had been more or less perfect.

A chorus of small snaps were heard securing the perimeter of the shell in place. The cable above the shell tightened once more as the shell made a final ascent to clear the support stand for the outer shell. Just before the nestled spheres touched down again, her assistants gave her a collective brief nod and began to file out. The winch cable was retracted, and the structure stood free for the first time.

Connie was confused. Wait, they were supposed to stay and roll this thing. What’s the point, she thought, if I’m just going to stay in one position?…

Then, as Connie had requested, the lights were cut. Connie saw the silhouettes of her departing assistants against the door only briefly, before those lights went out too.

It was too late to call after them–it’d probably achieve little but to give herself a splitting headache. Now in the complete darkness, Connie wondered whether the sphere was well enough balanced that she might move it by shifting her weight alone. She had instructed her assistants to let her enjoy her situation for an hour, but without any help now, that hour could prove highly frustrating.

As Ann turned off the light in the corridor, Jade turned to her. “Say, where’d Sonja go?”

“Oh, she had to leave early.”

“Ah.” Silence as they walked further. “Wait, weren’t we supposed to stay to push?”

“Nope. Change of plans.”

Connie froze when her thrusting brushed up against something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

Fingering her employer’s crotch lustily, Sonja began crawling ever so slowly within the inner sphere. And, powerless to control any of it, Connie began tumbling headlong through the darkness, feeling an ever-building mass of delight swelling up from the center of the sphere.

THE END