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The Attic

The door opened slowly, and I could hear him walking towards me. I strained my eyes toward the direction of the door but as usual wound up seeing little other than the far reaches of the ceiling. He took his time making his way to my bed and when he finally approached, he silently placed one hand on each of my pedicured feet, the only exposed flesh on my lower extremities. The warm touch of his hands sent a shiver all the way through me. A smile crept over my face. I had been waiting for him all day.

It really wasn’t my intention to become David’s full time orthopedic slave. The whole process happened so slowly that it almost came as a surprise to find myself in my current position. We met at one of those anything goes parties where guests are free to explore their darkest fantasies. He had an insatiable appetite for placing women in neck and orthodontic bondage and was just starting to explore his plaster fantasies. I could think of nothing more arousing than finding myself completely immobilized by someone familiar with Milwaukees and other CTLSO’s. We were a match made in heaven, it seemed.

The seduction began with David inviting me to his sprawling estate in a wealthy neighborhood in Connecticut. Our first date was my opportunity to survey the toys that he had assembled over the past few years. It was an impressive collection to say the least. In a refreshing change from the usual dingy basement dungeon, he had converted the attic into a playroom. The windows had views of the dense forest that surrounded his home, and the gate that lead to the driveway ensured that only those specifically invited would gain access. He toured me through his collection with a formal, businesslike tone, as though I were interviewing him for the job of being my master.

He started with cervical collars….soft, hard, philly, Malibu, extrication, and then moved on to the clamshells, TLSO’s, and finally…..what I had come to see. He had old school chin pad Milwaukees, newer throat mold models, and more importantly kits and tools for custom fitting a Milwaukee onto some lucky girl. We continued to the second room of the attic which was equipped with a hospital bed with a pull up bar, crutches, wheelchairs, and a fully accessible bathroom. The third room was set up for casting, and he clearly had all of the supplies, including a traction rack in the center of the room. I asked if he’d had the opportunity to place any body casts yet, and he gave me a long hard look as he said “not yet”.

I was impressed. He had even gone to the trouble of fully mirroring the walls of each room. But we weren’t done with the tour. He opened the door to the fourth and final room and my jaw dropped. In the center of the room was a dentist’s chair, complete with little spit sink and overhead light. He led me to the cabinet next to the chair and began opening drawers. Everything that one would need to apply a full set of braces, palate expanders, dental impression plaster, it was all there. The next drawer was filled with different types and colors of headgear, and he seemed extremely familiar with the various uses of every one of his toys. I abandoned all hope of displaying a nonchalant attitude then and there. The game was definitely on.

The next few weeks were a blur. We had each clearly met our match. Every free moment that we could find was spent in his attic. He would choose which braces he wanted to see me in for the evening and I would entertain him by doing average things while immobilized…..reading a book, watching TV, washing dishes, pretending to be asleep. During those beginning days he always chose braces he knew I’d been dying to find myself in, like the Milwaukees and clam shells. He knew that I was afraid to be completely immobilized by him just yet, and he was quite patient. And although I was deeply aroused by his dental room, I was definitely not ready to let him practice his dentistry on me. In all, it was innocent and harmless and I found myself beginning to trust his ability to sense when I had enough of any one particular game. We would have our fun for a few hours and then I would go home to my non-fetish life when we were done. It was the most fulfilling sex I’d ever had. But after a few months of this, it just wasn’t enough anymore.

It was the beginning of a long weekend when I told him that I was ready for more. A slightly sinister smile came over him as he sized me up. “I can arrange more”, he purred. I had no idea what I was in for.

By this point, he had built a custom Milwaukee for me. It had a traditional plastazote pelvic girdle which had been modified to ride lower on the buttocks and tighter around the waist. An adjustable air bladder was built in to the anterior portion so as to increase abdominal compression, at his whim of course. Attached to the anterior bar was an outrigger with circular pads that rested on each of my shoulders, pinning them back into a more upright position than my usual slouch. The neck ring was secured with a large bolt in the back, and the throat mold was slightly larger than the usual so that any attempt to look down meant that the hard plastic would jut up into the soft portion of my chin. The occipital pads were also larger, providing a more comfortable head rest. I loved the feeling of the brace the moment he placed it on me the first time. Finally immobilized from chin to hips. It quickly became apparent that this brace would take some getting used to however, and I had never worn it for more than a few hours. That would all change this weekend.

He started by leading me to the dental room. I stood at the doorway staring at the chair, my heart pounding and blood rushing in my ears. “It’s okay”, he said, as he led me to the chair and sat me down. “I’m a dentist, don’t worry” and with that he pulled back a wall tapestry that had obscured his diplomas on my previous visits. It appeared that he really was an orthodontist. Feeling a little bit better, I settled into the chair and looked around the room. Just as I was starting to relax, he reached around the chair and secured my arms to the rests with two large leather straps. He came around and secured my legs in the same fashion. My eyes flew open in fear, but he just smiled. “I think you’ll really enjoy this if you can just relax a little”, he said. He gave me pill to swallow which turned out to be Ativan. Lucky for me. I became quite relaxed despite being strapped into his dental chair. I opened up and let him go to work.

He played classical music while he affixed brackets to each of my teeth. I felt him place the arch wires and tighten them down. Then he made an impression of my palate and explained that this would be used to make my bite plate. “You’ll understand its importance later”, he reassured me. He opened the second cabinet drawer and then held up a series of face bows before settling on just the right one. He attached it to my upper molars and then began sorting through the various headgears. Finally he turned around and gently lifted my head. He placed a black high pull headgear over my hair and secured it tightly to the face bow. I felt a strong pull on my upper teeth and realized that I couldn’t fully close my lips with the face bow sticking out of my mouth. He got up from his chair, admired his work for a moment, and then left the room. I sat there for a few minutes getting used to the strange new sensation of having something fastened into my mouth. It was slightly painful but mostly just arousing. I caught a glimpse of my new profile in one of the mirrors…..this thing would certainly not go unnoticed.

He came back into the room and began unbuckling the straps around my arms and legs. He led me back to the main room and instructed me to disrobe. He placed me naked, facing the mirror, with my arms and legs spread wide apart. He came up behind me and strapped me into the Milwaukee. But this wasn’t my usual Milwaukee….it had been modified. Gone was the throat mold and in it’s place was a large chin cup that cradled my lower jaw and made it virtually impossible to open my mouth. There was clearly more traction in this brace, as my head was tilted up at a higher angle than I was used to. When he had me step back from the mirror, I realized that my gaze went to the top quarter of the wall in front of me and no further in any direction. The pelvic girdle was no longer just a pelvic girdle. The plastazote extended up my torso to each armpit and my breasts were encased by the thick plastic. The anterior bar ran along the outside of the girdle, and separated my breasts as it led to the neck ring. As I stood further back from the mirror, I could see that there was some kind of attachment piece at the base of the girdle that I didn’t recognize from my old Milwaukee. He let me take in the view for a moment and then said, “I think you’re ready for the new accessory that I’ve made”.

He had me place my hands on the mirror and lean forward, with my legs apart. I felt his hand slide between my ass cheeks and the cold sensation of lube. I heard him snapping something onto the back of the girdle. “Relax”, he cooed. I felt the plug enter my anus, stretching my sphincter to its limit before the plug tapered down to a manageable inch diameter. I could feel the weight of the plug inside my rectum as he pulled two straps forward and attached them to the front of the girdle, thereby securing the plug in place. I didn’t think I’d be able to walk with such a large object in the back door, but I was wrong. After my legs stopped shaking, he guided me out of the room and I slowly made my way into the plaster room.

“It would be a shame if you were to tamper with any of your treatments at this point”, he said. I was too out of it to argue with him. He wrapped my right hand, thumb, and arm with web roll and then started moistening four inch plaster rolls. My right arm was in a thumb spica within minutes, and I could feel the plaster warming up and starting to harden as he moved onto my left hand, thumb, and arm. When he finished, he walked me over to the bed and helped me in. “I think you need a little time to adjust”, he said after situating me.

I took stock of the situation. Lying flat on my back, I could see nothing but the ceiling. My teeth throbbed as the headgear did its job, and I ran my tongue along the face bow between my lips. I ran my fingers along the girdle, and over my encased breasts. I held up my arms to look at the casts and realized that it would be fairly difficult to do anything without the help of thumbs. I couldn’t even undo the straps that led to the plug, which seemed to get heavier with each passing minute. How long was he planning to leave me like this? I was too tired to worry about it and finally fell asleep.

As it turned out, he had no plans to reverse my situation at all. Since that first weekend, I’ve had many adjustments made to my braces and the addition of short leg casts with a spreader bar. The bite plate was added to my headgear which has helped take some of the strain off my jaw but resulted in an unfortunate speech impediment. And so here we are where the story began. I’ve gotten used to waiting for him to come home and attend to my needs. It’s not so bad really. Everyone should be so lucky.

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