Dark Days (Written Pictures #2)

by H. A. Kotys

  Disgust and arousal – Raven wasn’t sure which was stronger. Gripping the latex tighter in her fingers as if for reassurance, she drew the garment to her. It was cold, as latex always was until worn, and the shudder it sent up her body spurred her to inhale deeply once again, drawing deeper on the aroma she so enjoyed.

  It wouldn’t be her first time in latex, in fact far from it, but she had always been fully covered. Black and dramatic were her style, though on occasion she would don brilliant red just for impact, just to shock. Suggestion was her preference, not in your face display. That was for sluts, silly submissive sluts. Not her. Suggestion spun the mind and sparked the imagination. Imagination was potent when it could be captured.

  There was no choice though, not here. Anyway, if Alexei wanted her to have her tits hanging out then she would thrust them into his face and made sure he got a damn good look at them.

  Shit. What has happening to her? Was Alexei becoming the justification for everything? She wasn’t some common slut but she did want him to see just what he could have. Could? Would? Did? Oh God.

  Raven knew what she had to do and gathering up one of the legs, she pointed her toes and plunged it down into the tube of cold material. She had done this countless times before, but the brilliant thrill of donning latex never dimmed. She had always found dressing more sensual than undressing. It was a preparation for the infinite promise of what lay ahead, rather than part of the endgame. It was always in the preparation.

  She knew she had the body, she had worked hard on it after all. If she ate as much with her mouth as she did with her eyes, she would be in trouble but her body was her chief weapon so she had to keep it primed. Feeling the familiar grip of latex, she also knew there was no better way to exhibit it and so tugged on the leg to help punch her foot through the thick gathering that then snapped back around her ankle.

  Repeating the process, Raven was soon hobbled by the thick mess of latex that gathered around her lower legs. Normally, she would simply have bent but chained as she was by the collar, she couldn’t quite reach as far down as she needed. So, gritting her teeth in determination, she pulled up a leg as far as she could against the rubberised resistance. It took longer than usual, disadvantaged as she was by the chain but with a good degree of twisting and stretching, tugging and cursing, the latex garment was eventually past her knees and bunching against her thighs.

  She paused for breath. It was always a full workout getting these things on but it was always worth it. Redoubling her efforts, she drew the cloying catsuit to her hips and then beyond and higher with a shimmy, or three, or four.

  She could reach the whole garment now, and hooking a finger through a reinforced opening, she was momentarily glad when it easily slipped in place to cradle an ass that needed no such support. It was then that the full extent of her exposure became evident. Front to back, totally exposed with a dark circle of blue framing her crotch and stars exploding from it, just to recall any attention that had somehow otherwise drifted. The planned impact of the artwork was clear and hauling the tight latex higher to cover her tummy, Raven’s next challenge was presented.

  Looking at the chest area of the garment, it was obvious that the holes were too small for her ample breasts to fit through. Well, comfortably at least. That though would probably be irrelevant and no doubt her ongoing discomfort would amuse them. Not only would it be a struggle to get on, but it would continue to be a struggle, squeezing as the thick latex would around the base of each breast.

  It had to be done though so, sucking in her tummy, Raven thrust her arms deep into those of the suit and pushed until her cuffed wrists popped through, left then right. The chest area of the catsuit immediately pressed against her recently assaulted breasts and she flinched as the thick rubber seemed to instantly mimic Yuri’s grasp without allowing them to fully push through.

  Fishing around under her ass, Raven found the tab of the zip and with a slow pivoting of her hips, worked it upwards to seal herself inside. Slowly, the garment gripped tighter with each tooth ascended until, reaching the top, the tab snapped off with the strain.

  Fuck! Quick release was not an option now. Dumb cow, she should have squeezed her breasts through first. Struggling to breathe, she fished fingers through the holes, trying to coax her sunburnt breasts through to allow her lungs more scope to expand.

  The first was a struggle, skin sticking to latex and refusing to pass through the rim without leaving a legacy as that smarted like a burn. The second was the real problem though as, already having been crushed and reddened by the large hand of Yuri, each movement stabbed at her, shortening her breathing further. ‘Damn thing,’ she cursed inwardly, ‘always was slightly larger.’

  She had to do it though. It was a stark choice but the only one to make so screwing her eyes tightly shut, Raven took her own nipple between forefinger and thumb, squeezed and pulled hard.

  == ~ ==

  In the relative safety of his bathroom and with the door locked, Alexei lowered the lid and sat on his toilet, flipping the laptop open, safe in the knowledge that he wouldn’t be disturbed. The sight that greeted him was all he could wish and more besides and he watched in awe as the woman willingly damaged herself just to dress. And she was dressing for him.

  A soft moan of approval passed his lips and as he closed the lid of his laptop once again he rested a hand on it as if to assure possession of its contents. Today would be the most enjoyable one yet, though perhaps only for him.

  == ~ ==

  If she wasn’t so horrified that it was her exposed to the humiliation of the look, she would have nodded in appreciation. But standing there clothed yet naked, Raven could only blush in shame when looking down to see her bare breasts, tightly ringed, reddened and bulbous, protruding through the garish catsuit.

  There were three more boxes to go though, so this was only the start. Bending as best she could until the chain to her neck snapped tight again, Raven took hold of the lid of the second and slid it aside.

  It was a longer but narrower box and if she had considered it, Raven would have fielded a pretty accurate guess at the contents. There, laying cocooned in scarlet tissue paper, was a pair of boots. These were not her usual style however. Normally, Raven would choose a pair with a dangerous heel and elegant toe leading to buttery soft black leather that was fitted to slide closely against her skin, elongating already endless legs.

  This pair though was quite different. A two inch sole hung heavily in her hand and the complimentary six inch heel was two higher than she usually wore, a whore’s heel designed for only standing and sex. It was the colour that next struck her. The patent leather shone brightly in the almost surgical light and the gaudy fire engine red was even brighter than the Old Glory Red stripes that shot down her latex clad arms.

  Forcing down the cheap plastic zip, Raven splayed the faux leather apart and bending as far as she could, hooked her foot inside. ‘At least the heels will allow me more movement,’ she thought to herself, rising a full six inches as her foot nestled in the first boot. She repeated the process with the other. ‘That’s if I don’t break my fucking neck first.’

  Raven tugged at the zip and after more effort than she expected, finally persuaded it to rise over the metal ankle cuff. Closing the second boot around her calf and standing aloft at her newly augmented height, cuffed ankles already wobbled to adjust.

  Two more boxes, halfway there. Looking down from her stilted position, Raven could only wonder just what else they expected her to wear. It was further to bend down to the boxes now and the third box proved more of a challenge as she had placed it further away. But bend she did and sliding the lid of the large square aside, what was revealed inside was the oddest contents yet.

  Inside was a bevelled circle, decorated with a large white five pointed star in the centre on a background of the same blue as was on her catsuit. Surrounding that, two red circles completed the design. A familiarly pungent aroma struck her and, curling her fingers around what
she expected to be a sharp edge, she lifted the object and turned it over for inspection.

  It was lighter that she thought it would be and, seeing the bands on the rear, she knew precisely what it was. It was a shield of course but, constructed of rubber it was for show rather than substance - it would offer scant protection against whatever came her way.

  With a sigh, she slipped her left arm through the first strap, gripping the second in her hand to hold the ineffectual shield ready. There, as she caught a reflection of herself in the full length mirror that dressed the far wall from ceiling to floor, a bizarre image looked back.

  There stood a strangely erotic version of Captain America, only female and fundamentally fetish. For what seemed minutes Raven looked, barely able to blink as she took in everything, occasionally moving an arm or a foot as if to test that it was still her reflection. Raven’s heart raced and she was no longer sure why. She simply stood there as an extremely fuckable caricature of a national hero with reddened breasts squeezed uncomfortably through tight blue bands.

  Finally, she broke the spell that was her own image but just as she was about to push the third box aside, she spotted something else in the bottom of it, laid corner to corner. Surely it couldn’t be? Raven thrust a hand down to retrieve it.

  Another item that was not all it initially seemed, the crop she now brandished was not made of the wood and leather as she would expect of the tool of her trade. This one had been similarly fashioned in rubber. It was as useless as the shield and so, having only just risen, her spirits sank back, slipping to a place lower than they started from.

  Just one box left now and it was the smallest of the four. It surely couldn’t get any worse. Deep down she already knew the answer, they would no doubt have found a way. So, rubber crop still in hand, she bent down as far as her chain allowed and nudged the lid aside.

  Unlikely as it was, the cradle of red silk was the biggest surprise of the four. Hesitantly, Raven retrieved one of the two small, tarnished bells that rested inside. Slowly she lifted it to her eye line by the hook from which it hung. It bore a carefully replicated crack, as did the second bell, an exact twin. As she looked at them, a door to her past opened in her mind, spinning her back to her childhood and a school trip to Philadelphia to see the Liberty Bell, symbol of American independence.

  “They go on your nipple rings, Ki-Ki, yes yes,” came an unwanted explanation from Natalia, who had entered the room unnoticed and who tossed a makeup box onto the bench when she reached it.

  All sense in Raven’s mind was suspended. Robotically, she raised one of the bells and threaded its hook through the white gold of a nipple ring. She should have protested, or at the very least tried to stop herself, but her mind was elsewhere. Long suppressed childhood memories flooded her focus and she remembered for the first time in years when she had been called Ki-Ki before.

  CHAPTER XXXVI – Memories

  Raven’s mind hurtled back through the years, accompanied by a faint tinkling of bells. It had been her happiest time, way before life had started to career out of control and set her on the path to what she’d had to become to preserve both sanity and self.

  Simpler then, she had gone to school, come home, greeted her mother with a pre-teen grunt and thought nothing of the daily snatched exchanges as one headed out to the hardship of her second job, and the other to her happy place.

  Raven felt a chill suddenly that froze her breathing and drew her back for a moment to the present. Natalia had misted her tummy with a spray and as Raven watched, began to polish her outfit, her hand with its short, stubby nails working a cloth. Curiosity satisfied and no immediate threat apparent, Raven allowed her mind to return to reliving that rarely resurrected memory.

  A whitewashed picket fence. A gate with a homely squeak of hinges. Crunching of gravel underfoot. The smell of fresh cut grass. The memories were vivid, even after being locked away for so long, so vivid that Raven paused before allowing her mind to dig more.

  She now saw the porch again with the fragrant honeysuckle creeping up just one side and the empty pot on the other where together, they had managed to kill off the jasmine that used to weave through a wooden lattice. They had fallen against it while they had happily played, snapping it at the base to a brace of worried giggles.

  The door was still pillar box red with its single, large brass handle squarely in the middle and in her mind, Raven reached up for the familiar pull chain to sound the bell to ask to be allowed in. But the bells she heard was not quite as she remembered it being.

  “Keep still, Ki-Ki!” interjected the small woman’s voice, followed by a slap to Raven’s breast which set off another peel of bells as her bare chest oscillated to the sudden blow.

  == ~ ==

  With a lingering look of warning up to the somewhat distant female, Natalia got back to work, spraying and buffing the tall woman made taller still by the stilt-like platform boots. She was all long legs and full tits. Natalia would have hated her for that alone, having been ultimately turned away from her childhood dream of taking a principal role with the Bolshoi, not because she lacked the requisite talent, but because of her own lack of inches and the bedroom efforts of a leggier rival.

  She had been good, the best she could be. They had all said that and the best she could be was the best there was. Two women had been in the final assessment and Natalia had known she was the better of the two. They both waited in the same room, stretching out soon to be used muscles and preparing themselves for the final panel.

  Natalia had been the first to dance but as she was called forward, her rival spat a sneering whisper in her expensively educated Muscovite accent, just loud enough for her to hear. “You dance like you look. Nothing but a provincial kulak.”

  The dance Natalia had chosen to perform for the panel had been perfect yet it had been all she could do to hold her anger inside. She had fixed a smile and her posture and glided from the room luxuriating in the afterglow of her performance.

  The look on the other girl’s face as she passed inside for her turn though was indelibly etched on Natalia’s mind. Triumph, scorn, mockery, mirth. All bore into her in that fleeting moment when the woman barged purposefully past, nose as high as her self-esteem and confidence clearly founded on more than just her insufficient ability.

  When the rejection letter came, the shattering of her dreams was only beaten by the shattering of Natalia’s spirit, knowing the future that had for so long consumed her had been taken away. ‘Too short,’ it had said, ‘too intense, with a hurried manner more fitting to the tango than the sensual needs of the highest ballet.’ She knew the real reason though and pictured that sneer atop that near perfect body. She just knew it was her rival’s body that had clinched it.

  It was from that point that she devoted herself totally to her adored brother. He had a future, a mission, a purpose and she would do everything she could so he didn’t have to feel the kind of hurt that she would always carry inside.

  Deep down, she had known before she even went in the room. Provincial girl versus girl with a father from the political elite, but she had let herself hope and believe. The image of that moment would never leave Natalia. Legs and tits, this American was all legs and tits just like her. They traded in sex – they were all the same. And with her anger boiling, Natalia polished again, pressing against the lengthy latex leg with renewed vigour.

  == ~ ==

  Raven stumbled as the smaller woman brought a bright sheen to her latex-clad leg but quickly regained her poise and leant into the pressure as a counterbalance, arms limp, useless shield on one side, facsimile of a crop on the other.

  Her mind spun back again to the door and she remembered her hazy reflection in the polished wood while she had stood there, waiting for the bell to be answered. She heard the familiar small footsteps on the other side running over what she remembered as a parquet-floored hallway, then the thud as a child’s body collided with the heavy door. She could still picture the look of exciteme
nt that was always on her face.

  Slowly, the door cracked open, heaved inwards by the small girl and crouching down to her level, Raven had enveloped that bundle of delight that leapt at her with cries of “Ki-Ki, Ki-Ki!” with wide, welcoming arms.

  == ~ ==

  Natalia circled her cloth upwards to the top of the woman’s legs, breathing in the aromas of the polish and her sex and snarling inwardly as she worked. ‘Fucking whore with the fucking tits and the fucking legs,’ she silently cursed, chewed nails grating along the reinforced blue edge of the catsuit’s crotch.

  ‘Probably fucked her way to where she was, just like that Bolshoi bitch,’ she continued to herself, finding a different reason for her failure. ‘Fucking whore. Fucking American whore.’

  == ~ ==