Based on a true story… with a few slight and probably obvious embellishments The Lockbox, however, exists exactly as depicted :) Garments described are from Twist My Rubber Arm: http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=7021&cat=34 and http://twistmyrubberarm.com/index.php?code=1009&cat=34 Samantha couldn’t stop thinking about it all day… Fridays normally flew by, but this one seemed to be taking forever - minutes ticked by slower and slower. If she could just make it to quitting time, she could head home and… well… get herself into some trouble. Waiting at home was Sam’s newest invention. She had a few inventions, really. None of them earth-shattering, but they were special to her. She’d been an Electrical Engineering major in college, but never really made much use of that now. The job market was tough, but she found decent, but boring work at a local web design shop. She was a geek, a girl, good with customers, and knew some PHP, so most of her day was spent telling clients what they wanted. She didn’t love it, but it paid the bills and kept her busy. Her engineering skills lay dormant for a long time, until Sam stumbled upon some basic robotics kits online. Things had gotten much easier than they were when she was back in school, and it was now merely a matter of writing a few lines of code to move a servo, trigger a solenoid, or power up an electromagnet. Sam barely had her first servo moving before she was sketching up the designs for her latest toy. She was calling it simply the “Lockbox”, it was essentially a ruggedized box that, once enabled, did one thing: locked it’s two pieces together, with no way to release them with your bare hands until the allotted time expired. There are other methods for locking yourself in, but Sam had a particular bent towards safety (If you can call inescapable self-bondage safe) and wanted a device that was secure when powered up, but “failed open” if anything went wrong. She also wanted something that was portable, so large electomagnetic locks were out, since that would need wall power. In the end, all Sam really needed was a push-type solenoid, a few batteries, and a microcontroller. She fashioned the box and the “tongue” that she inserted inside, and when the solenoid fired and pushed through the hole in the “tongue” it was trapped inside the larger box. Her tests so far had been perfect. If the batteries died, the tongue slid free, so in the worst possible case, she would be free when the batteries ran out… however long that took. Sam wrote a simple program that doubled her time “in” successively. She would have a few tries to make sure she was comfortable and in for long-term play as the box gave her chances to pull out at 5, 10, and 20 minutes. The next “click” shut after that would be the real test. Would she stay in for 40 more minutes? Then 80? Was she ready for some serious play? She’d never pushed it that far. Her early tests had been intentionally boring and safe, just making sure everything was working right, and the concept got her a little too excited for long term play. With her head full of ideas, she’d climaxed and put the box away for when she had some real time to spend with it. But, tonight was the night. She had the weekend to herself with her lovely but decidedly vanilla boyfriend out of town, and she was due for some mischief. Finally, the clock clicked 7, Sam shut down her workstation, and rode home. Sam had her night all planned out, and if everything went right, she’d be in for some overnight fun. She wolfs down a sandwich and drinks some water, and then darts to the bedroom feeling like a kid on Christmas. Her clothes almost make it into the hamper, cast towards it with disregard as she strips and gets her latex garments out of their hiding spot. Latex panties are lovingly lubed and shined, then slither onto her body. This is almost her favorite part, second only to the locking in. They slide on, enveloping her in their cool touch, and her heart starts beating faster. She resists the urge to flop down on the bed right there and take the easy way out, and picks up another garment. Next is her latex bra with tiny nubs on the inside that make her go tingly the instant she puts it on. She grabs some of her bondage gear, a pillow from the bed, two larger latex items, the Lockbox, and walks out into the apartment. She feels wild - walking around where she was normally just Samantha, she was now wearing nothing but some latex underwear and loves the sight of herself, long brown hair swinging behind her as she strides past the mirror. She feels like a goddess, and like a demon, and knows there is no turning back tonight. She wants to be wicked, and she’s going to be both the giver and receiver of her own punishment. She’s going to be locked away like a rubber toy, and she craves it with intensity that scares her and thrills her. Grabbing a garbage bag from the kitchen, Sam stuffs the pillow inside and seals the end. If she’s going to be in for a while, she wants to be comfortable, but she doesn’t want to sweat all over the bed or ruin her pillow. Besides, a plastic pillow seems fitting for a rubber toy to sleep on. Carrying all her gear, Sam steps into the bathroom. She opens the top of the Lockbox and flips the switch. Sam knows the startup sequence will give her about 5 minutes to get ready, so she has to move quickly. Closing the box, she tightens down the 4 small bolts at the corner with an allen key and then slips a hose clamp around the small box and tightens it down. Leaving the rest of her gear, she walks the tools back into the guest room, far out of reach once she’s locked in. She can’t open the box without them, and once she’s inserted the tongue into the Lockbox and it activates, there’s no getting it out until the time had elapsed. She returns to the bathroom and turns off the light, leaving only the dim glow of the nightlight. It’s dark out now, nearly 9pm, and she’s wasting no time with the rest of her preparations. Thinking quickly, she makes a last minute decision and darts back into the bedroom. She returns to the bathroom, slipping her small, buzzing friend into her panties on ’low’. It’s not enough to bring her over the edge, but it would help keep things fun as she stews in her own trap. Next, one of the large, floppy pieces of latex - it starts as just a black, lifeless tube as she sits on the closed toilet, but soon her feet are inside, then her legs, and it holds them together tightly like a latex mermaid without the tail. Next, she locks rubber cuffs on each wrist. Her keys are just in the next room, but by the time she’s done, she won’t be able to get to them. Her thick, locking rubber collar goes on next, and the “snick” of the lock at the base of her skull sends a shiver down her spine. It’s on until she gets to her keys, and Sam’s realizing quickly that she’s really out to do this right tonight. It’s time for the final preparations. Sam tosses the plastic covered pillow into the tub where her head will be, and then climbs in with the last of her gear next to her. She hears a beep, then a click from the Lockbox. It’s started it’s run with a 1 minute test cycle. No matter, she can insert the tongue any time - the taper allows it to push in, but not come out until the mechanism opens. She still has to move fast though, or she’ll risk losing the short cycles and have to start with 10 or 20 minutes in. She picks up the Lockbox and attaches a short run of chain from a d-ring on it’s backside to her collar. She locks that shut, and begins her final preparations. She picks up a length of chain and locks it around her latex sealed ankles, and then locks it again to the drain in the tub. The keys are right next to her, but only if she has use of her hands… Sam picks up her other favorite new invention - it started life as a latex top with an attached hood and breathing tube, but after one of the arms ripped, she repaired it with a twist. Instead of fixing the arm, she eliminated them both altogether. She would now be totally wrapped in latex when she pulled the top down over her body, trapping her arms against her body and enveloping her totally in restrictive rubber. Normally, she would be able to reach her hands out through the bottom, but tonight, the Lockbox was going to “fix” that little problem. She pulls the garment over her head, and plops her head up into the attached hood. She’s now surrounded in smooth, soft latex blackness, her only connection to the outside world the air that flows through the tube on her hood. She envisions someone finding her here and toying with her, playing with her breathing tube, watching her struggle, trapped in her latex cocoon. Heady visions of latex captors are running wild in her brain, and she pulls the latex top down around her arms, scootching it down until it meets the latex sheath that wraps her legs and torso. In her hand is clutched 1 final lock, and the tongue of the Lockbox. She fishes the lock through the d-rings on her wrist cuffs, then through the first hole in the tongue. With a click, her wrists were now locked together. She holds the tongue near her neck. All she has to do is slide it home, and she’s stuck. Sam had been here many times - sitting on the edge of trouble, inches from the point of no return. So many times, she’d been safe, and smart, and not gotten herself stuck, knowing that there was no way out. Now, she had a way out… eventually, and she wanted in. She hears the lockbox click open. That was probably the 5 minute cycle done. Next would be 10. It was time. She wiggles a little, getting everything comfortable, and pushes the tongue home. A few seconds later, she feels the click of the solenoid engaging, and tugs on her wrists. This is it. She’s stuck. Her hands didn’t move at all away from her neck, she just felt a tug on her thick collar. Without her hands, she flexs her elbows out away from her body. The rubber enveloping her gives, but then returns her arms right back to her body. The garment does not budge from her waist, gripping onto the latex around her legs and hips. She’s sealed completely in rubber, comfortable and safe, but 100% trapped until the Lockbox let her free. Click. It’s open already. Had that really been 10 minutes? She was just starting to warm up and luxuriate as her little friend hummed merrily along in her panties. Click - she’s back in again, this time for 20 minutes. Sam daydreams and squirms. She’s in absolute heaven, trapped completely as she wants to be. Nothing hurts, nothing feels too hot or cold - her circulation is great. In her cogent moments, Sam checks for warning signs - things that would make her safeword in long-term play. Everything was checking out, no pressure points, nothing tingled or hurt. And… Oh, god… if only she’d turned her little vibe up to medium. Click. She was free if she wants to be. Next click is 40 minutes. There’s no debate in Sam’s mind. She sees another version herself in her minds eye, standing over her in her rubber bra, saying “you think you’re getting out? I like you like this. I think I’ll keep you like this forever - a rubber tub toy… my own little latex worm…” Click. Sam’s trapped again. 40 minutes now. “You really did it” she thinks to herself. “This is your trap, and you’re really stuck.” Lightning goes from her cilt to her head like a tiny flash of an orgasm and her back arches. Everything intensifies but she hasn’t peaked - she’s still building up like a pressure cooker. Time dilates. Daydream blurs into a brief subspace and latex induced sleep. Sam breathes deeply, riding the edge of ecstasy and blissing out. Sam wakes slightly startled by a click. She’s free from the 40 minute cycle. She could stop now if she wanted. She manages only to say “Mmmm” and smile as she squirms in her now slick, hot prison. The “click” of 80 minutes trapped sings home, and Sam is lost to subspace, moaning once in a while, grinding into her little friend however she can, and losing herself. … In the bedroom, a digital clock reads 10:20pm click… “mmm” click… …. 1:00am click… “zzz” click… …. 6:20am click… click… …. Sam wakes up, hot, sweating and… oh, hello little friend. She smiles as the now faintly buzzing little vibrator reminds her of her predicament. She stretches and feels the latex bring her back. Yup, still totally trapped. Her skin feels silky and soft against the latex. God she’s horny. How long has she been asleep? She tugs at her wrists, which move precisely no-where. Well, it can’t be that long until the next cycle. She rests for a while, but doesn’t fall asleep. She doesn’t want to miss the next click - she’d really like to get herself off now and be done, and climb into her nice soft bed. Time passes, and still nothing. She started doing some mental math. She remembered the 80 minute, and then the 160… God, she’d locked her self in for another two hours and 40 minutes. It should be nearly 1am soon. Still nothing… could it be, had she slept through the 320? If so, it could be any time. How could she have missed the solenoid clicking? “Oh well,” she thought “if I slept, maybe it’s 3 or 4 in the morning. The next cycle would be… 6:20… Heh, I guess I really did get the overnight session I was hoping for.” Sam surrenders to her trap, knowing that she’s in for a few more hours at least. She idly squirms and daydreams, imagining multiple captors - or her sweet boyfriend coming home early only to keep her as a rubber pet. She dangles so close to orgasm she sees lights at the edge of her vision - staring into the blackness of the inside of her hood. Somewhere outside of her hood, Sam hears a sound. Something high-pitched. Was that…. No it couldn’t be She hears it again, the distinct chirping of a bird… Sam hears a car door shut. Then it starts and rumbles off. These are sounds of morning. Saturday morning. It must be 7 or 8 am. Oh god. Could it be… Did she sleep through the 640 minute cycle? She knew she should have programed that out, but it was easy to just write the doubling function and she was a bit… distracted. The reality hits home. She does the math. 5pm. She was stuck in till 5pm, a totally helpless rubber slave, trapped by a cruel mistress, and left to her fate. It’s too much - Sam struggles and bucks and kicks, but there’s nothing to be done. She’s totally trapped. Her legs are locked down and her arms are useless. She breathes heavily and the hood sucks to her face, the hose too skinny to handle her exertion. Panic turns to adrenaline and suddenly Sam is bucking for a wholly different reason. The orgasm of her life rolls over her in wave after wave. She loses count around 3, and comes back to her senses a few minutes later, a bit more sober, but exhausted and completely sated. She’s stuck. There’s absolutely nothing she can do - she is a rubber prisoner until 5pm, or whenever her batteries run out. She stretches a bit, and smiles. Her little friend is still buzzing ever so gently, nudging her to enjoy it. She mews, settles in, and closes her eyes. There’s worse ways to spend a Saturday. -Lckdnrbbr Comments, suggestions, etc can be sent to: [email protected] (P.S. - I’m a boy. Samantha is one of the obvious embellishments :) ) (P.P.S. - I could be talked into sharing schematics for the lockbox, but aside from the fact that it’s a profoundly stupid device, you’ll need a laser cutter, arduino, and some electronics skills to put it together.)