#total enclosure

[cayos-ltx]

Bondage breathplay struggles II

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[tightsweatyclothes]

Unable to see, unable to hear, stuck in the sweaty and sticky dark, she can only wait, unable to tell when they will come to tickle and prod her sensitive armpits and sides. She pulls and pulls at the rigid frame, but her helplessness only makes it worse.

Writhing, screaming into her gag, trying to avoid the invisible and inaudible fingers and rods which she cannot predict. Twitching, pulling, begging for it to stop as she throws herself against the restraints, to no avail.

[rubrist]

[covered-up-bondage]

At this stage, your doll is almost ready. To complete the transformation from she to it, attach the gas tanks in box VII to it's back with the harness provided. Do not worry if they are heavy: it will get used to the weight. Do NOT use the collar attachment point for the oxygen tanks. Connect the red-coloured pipe to the mask, and connect the yellow-coloured pipe to the chastity belt outlet. This will ensure a steady flow of it's waste into its own nutrition and air supply. Finally, turn on the motor: this will activate the cleansing systems in the suit and start up the drainage system, decreasing the risk of bacterial and fungal infections due to sweat buildup to almost zero, while ensuring a maximum of sticky, itchy discomfort.

For owners of Types 3a, 3b, 4a, 4b, see Section 8 on the use of the suit's microfibre bristle system. WARNING: Due to the impossibility of sleep while the microfibre bristle system is active, observe the guidelines for use AT ALL TIMES. DollThing shall not be responsible for any damage due to insufficient sleep. Motherfuckers think they can run a human on no sleep: if we could do that we'd just sell the secret to the US army and make our billions that way.

Finally, for that extra, cruel touch, enter your doll's measurements and your model number into our Tantaliser, and attach the keys to the cable mechanism. Our state-of-the-art AI will soon ensure that your doll is constantly within reach of its own release keys, only to jolt them away the exact moment it tries to grab them, always just a little too fast for their fingers. DollThing is proud to declare that, of the thousands of dolls fitted with the Tantaliser, to date, not a single one has managed to grab their keys, much less unlock themselves.

Happy Tormenting! Remember to upload pictures and videos of your dolls frustrated, sweaty struggles to DollSpace, where you can watch the most popular torture videos each day!

[sassyalpacakitten]

[ltx-alter-ego]

Well protected in black ..

[rainweargirl]

Shiny dreams

[just--out--of--reach]

I drowse awake again as the light begins to stream in from the large window. For the umpteenth time, I try to fall asleep again, but my bladder is far too full for that. The crook of my neck itches, and I raise my hand to wipe it, only to be reminded of my mitted and restrained hands. Everything stinks, everything itches, everything tickles, but no matter how I tug and tug, the metal refuses to give. It is deeply infuriating. Will there be a day when the rubber comes off? Will there be a day I can finally breathe fresh air? I hate it, hate the itchy and sweaty suit on my skin, hate the mask which stops up my air each time I try to breathe too deeply.

A jingling of metal on metal reminds me of the bunch of keys, goading me with their closeness. Freedom is close: I can feel it each time my mitts paw at the keys, each time they brush past the jingling metal without being able to grip them, so close and yet so far. So close, so close the jingling seems to say, and yet the promise of freedom, of getting out of the suit remains just that, a promise dangling just out of reach. But I paw at the hope of escape all the same, my mitts pressing at the keys, trying to get them off the ring, refusing to give up no matter how many times I feel them slip from my grasp.

It is so simple for him to take the keys, use them to leash me where he likes, dangle them between my paws before snatching them away, yet I am utterly helpless even with the keys pressing against my hands, trapped in the thick mittens. Each day he taunts me, mocks me anew, finds some new way to humiliate me, and I can only glare at him through the foggy lenses, pull against the rings fixing my hands to my waist, scream into the gag as he laughs, as the keys to freedom jingle within reach of my useless paws.