The corset was a perfect fit for him and he didn’t mind wearing it. It snapped closed pretty easily and the workmanship on the interior was perfectly buffeted, so it didn’t pinch.
He said it made him feel like a gladiator under his suit jacket all day long. I was glad he enjoyed it because it made the additions that much easier to enforce. It was four months of taking it off and strapping it back on in the day time when I suggested he wear it full time. When I told him how hot I considered it to be, he was vain enough to comply.
We were having sex when I slipped on the waist and shoulder plates. He growled at me pleasantly when he noticed them, but they were already locked to the corset and I praised him and nibbled at his ears enough to shame away any complaint he may have had later when he realized how much more restricting his ‘Sparticus Armor’ had become.
The shoulder joints cupped slightly making his arms now restricted to specific forward movement and there was a rounded panel beneath each armpit that kept his biceps from touching his torso. With a shirt on he looked quite the stud, like a weight lifter. Except, Robbie was so chubby, the protruding limbs carried a peculiar effect. He couldn’t raise his arms above his head, nor out too far to the sides.
The panel around the waist was the most uncomfortable since he’d adored his bed lounging hours and couch slouching. Now, he could bend only at the hips. He was either sitting up or laying flat.
I used my cousin’s wedding to add the crotch attachment. Most people had no idea about the armor; the changes had been very subtle. But when my cousin requested Robbie plan his bachelor party I beat his brain out with sex for two strait weeks, slipping my dominance over his eyes more and more until he actually assumed the sub position.
I tied him up and pulled my new attachment from under the bed.
“I won’t have my passionate gladiator out flaunting his weapons in public!” I chided.
And smoothly and sexily, I climbed onto him, assembling the pelvic girdle complete with penis plate and anal insert. I slipped the 1.5 diameter inch ky-jelly slick hollow tube dildo into his behind slowly, while massaging his penis. I could tell it was a bit painful, but he couldn’t even tell how far we had gone on his path to long term bondage. I plugged the insert and sealed down the girdle with bolts, still doing my wifely duty.
When he finally got off, I could tell it was a climax to remember for him. I took a handy wipe and cleaned away the cum, then slipped the steel plate into the guides, pressing his member hard against his pelvis. I looped the silver chain through the front of the girdle and padlocked it. “Now,” I said turning to look him in the face, “You eliminate when I tell you.”
I slid off his chest and lay beside him in the bed, running my fingers through his hair. I could feel him struggling to look down at what I had done to him. His hand was running over what had now become a metal brace in the cut of an old fashioned swim suit.
He had no idea what was coming next.
The first time I laid eyes on him he was looking up. I was stricken by his beauty in this position. Naturally, when given the opportunity I would recreate it. He was really a sub now, full time and he didn’t know how to deny me.
“Sit, Robbie. I want to show you something you’re going to really like.”
He didn’t want to, and when he’d seen the familiar metal pieces spread on the dining room table, he knew that he was in for new additions to the brace. It wasn’t as if he was going to run away or insist they come off, he was used to the feeling now, after 18 months or so wearing the full suit. He had even become accustomed to the twice daily releasing of his bowels and planned urination which had shocked him at first.
The anal insert had been extremely uncomfortable to start with, but now he realized there were no more laborious eliminations. He went in, he was out in no time, and he had regular colonics to assure that nothing was left behind. The anus had long lost it’s elasticity and he had become accustomed to plugging himself after each use.
He kind of got off on it. Sometimes I even let his penis out for a few hours just because.
But the new additions were going to change everything. Unbeknownst to Robbie, I’d been into his office to speak with his boss. I’d explained to them how brave he was and how he didn’t like to talk about his handicap. I explained how difficult it would be for him, once the treatment for his degenerative illness had to go to the next level. I’d brought a letter in from a specialist he had never met, but who was an expert on this ‘illness’. They understood everything. In two or three days, when he returned to his office everything would go on as usual, except there would be some slight changes in furniture and equipment, to ensure that his handicap would not get in the way of his job.
“It’s all under control. Sit here.”
The attachments were state of the art. Worked in three pieces, the thin metal pane attached seamlessly to the shoulder harness and swooped up the back of his neck to cradle his head at a 35 degree angle. He would be looking up always, just as he had been the first day I met him. I shaved the hair from his head at the place where I would apply the bonding glue. Eventually, the follicles would close as the flesh, with the help of the glue’s chemical force, bound itself to the titanium plate. He could train the hair from the top of his head over the brace, if he wished.
The other two pieces of the gear attached at the sternum and sides of the neck, cupped around the front of each ear at the cheekbone and met at the forehead just above the eyebrow. The metal here was thicker and had small loops where wire laces were to be threaded to attach the front of the head gear to the scull cradle. The special made design inhibited peripheral vision and forbid any movement of the head and neck muscles.
Over this a titanium collar reminiscent of a SOMI but with an extended chin pad that locked onto the lower jaw line, was snapped on and bolted down, which meant that every inch of his torso would be effectively hidden beneath the brace.
After I finished applying these parts, I led him to the car and downtown to the orthodontist, who completed the headgear by inserting the dental plate to keep him from grinding his teeth down and by wiring Robbie’s jaws together.
I sat beside him during the procedure holding his hand, thrilled to realize he couldn’t see me. “How do you feel?” I whispered, hoping he’d be as graphic as possible.
His answer was muffled, and “Scared” was all he said.
We left the doctor’s office a little later, in single file, because Robbie couldn’t see enough to walk safely on his own. I made him place his hand on my shoulder. I led him like the visually impaired, crippled man I loved that he would be for the rest of his life.