Dear Diary, It's been a long time since I've written anything in your pages, but I feel like I have to talk about this, and you're the only one I can tell. I have a feeling this will be a very long entry.

I have only myself to blame, I suppose. Jurgen told me not to touch anything, and even if he hadn't, common sense should have told me not to meddle with things I don't understand. Or for that matter, things that even Jurgen doesn't fully understand. Now I'm in a real fix. It's funny though. Now that I've gotten used to it, I'm not even sure I want out of this "fix". But I'm probably not making much sense. Let me start over at the beginning.

A little less than six months ago, Jurgen told me he had made a breakthrough at the lab. I went out with him on the weekend, and he showed me what he'd been working on. It had something to do with altering the molecular structure of materials with directed energy instead of chemistry. I understood the intention, but not the principles behind the equipment. I mean, I'm fairly smart, I have a masters degree in anthropology, but I know when I'm out of my depth.

As Jurgen explained it, the machine bathed the test item in low level microwaves while scanning a low powered x-ray laser across it at high speed. They had discovered all sorts of bizarre effects on various materials, using various frequencies of microwaves, but the effects were unpredictable, and they hadn't figured out how to control them yet. I was impressed though, and I told him so. We left later, went off to the art museum, I think. If only I had known then how his work would affect my life!

The next part of the story came just last week. I had been in the kitchen making myself a little snack. There was no point making dinner, since Jurgen wouldn't be home until late. He was obsessively pursuing some new development at the lab, and I knew he would probably ruin his appetite with junk food out of the vending machines.

The doorbell rang, and with a suddenly racing heart, I KNEW what it had to be. When I saw the heavy-looking parcel in the arms of the delivery man, my hopes were answered.

I have written here many times about the joy Jurgen and I get from our bondage games and fetishes. But I've never written down the details before. Why am I embarrassed? It's not as if anyone will ever read these words. Okay. a couple we know runs a company that specializes in elaborate and beautifully made restrictive rubber and leather clothing, and Jurgen had ordered a custom made latex bondage suit from them. Somehow, without even looking at the shipping label, I knew it was finally here!

I signed for the parcel, and practically ran into the kitchen with it. With trembling hands, I tore open the carton. We had ordered the suit over two months ago, and I had been day-dreaming about it nearly every day since. I dumped the contents onto the table, rustling folds of purple rubber spilling out in a heap. As the familiar aroma of latex filled the room, I marvelled at the almost overpowering effect it had on me. After years of playing all manner of fetish and bondage games with Jurgen, I have come to associate that smell with sexual pleasure, such that now the odor alone arouses me.

I laid it out on the table, admiring the craftsmanship that had gone into it. It was a full body suit of heavy gauge latex in a deep purple. There was no zipper, since the suit was made for neck entry only. One of our favorite games was to dump lubricant inside a water-tight catsuit so that it would slip and slide around my body as I moved. A zipper would have allowed leaks, making a mess.

The attached boots had six inch heels, and while they weren't exactly ballet toes, they were half an inch higher than any other heels I owned. Walking in them would be challenging, but not impossible. I'm going into a lot of detail, aren't I? Well, despite what has happened, I still love the suit, and it has given me such pleasure, that I think a certain fetishistic lingering over the intimate details of the outfit are called for.

Jurgen had had a devilish idea for the bust. There were fitted breast cups of course, but they were made from thinner latex, and sat over slightly smaller holes in the chest of the suit. The outer cups had little bumps inside, to rub against my nipples. My breasts would be squeezed through the holes in the heavy rubber of the suit, holding them out and up, and they would bulge out like two round melons, stretching the cups, the tight fit and little bumps making me acutely aware of my nipples at all times.

There were gloves molded onto the sleeves, and quite a few heavy "D" rings attached with reinforcing straps at strategic places. The crotch area was fitted with some very nice accessories as well, but my favorite feature was the corset section.

Made with two layers of rubber laminated with canvas and closely spaced steel boning, it was an integral part of the suit. There was no busk of course, and the back laces were attached to reinforced flaps on the outside, with another flap that could be closed and locked over them, securing the suit on the wearer. I remember insisting that Jurgen size it the same as my smallest dress corset. He had suggested a more relaxed fit, since he planned to lock me into it for a weekend, but had given in after I described in lurid detail how sexy I would look wearing it. I recall that our love making the night we mailed the order was especially intense.

We had ordered a custom helmet with it, but it was not attached, since my husband wanted to be able to use different hoods with the suit, or even take me out on the town wearing the outfit under my street clothes. The hood was made with a wide stiffened flange that would make it secure once the neck of the suit had closed over it. The eyes were covered with smoked acrylic lenses, so I would be able to see, but dimly. The mouth was open, but could be closed with any one of several plugs, gags, and so on, all of which snapped into a ridge surrounding the opening.

I thought of how much the new suit would would excite him, and was immediately struck by a mischievous idea. He had to work late at the lab, but nothing stopped me from paying him a visit. I was pleased that his work had been making so much progress, but we had had less time together as a result, and it had been weeks since we had done anything more than plain vanilla sex. I knew he wouldn't leave work until he was exhausted, but I was sure he wouldn't mind a brief distraction if I stopped by wearing this! And if I waited until later that night, the place would be deserted. They only had a handful of employees anyway, and generally, my little genius was the the only one willing to work late.

Once my mind was made up, I sprang into action, as they say in the cheap adventure novels. I carried the heavy suit up to our play room, then took a long hot shower, paying a little extra attention to my piercings, since they would be abused somewhat by the tight suit as well as being steeped in sweat for several hours.

I dried off as fast as I could- I was eager to feel the new outfit enclosing me in it's intimate embrace. At least I didn't have to dry my hair. I'm not sure whether I've mentioned this before. I have been completely depilated for nearly as long as we have been married, so it didn't take long for me to get dry. It's fortunate that Jurgen is well paid for his work. I had told him very early on that while I was willing to give up my hair for him, I refused to shave from head to toe every day. The electrolysis of my head, armpits, and other areas had taken over a year and had cost a fortune!

I grabbed the silicone lubricant from the bedroom and headed for the play room. Silicone is the best thing we have found for lubricating rubber, since it didn't dry out or pool in the feet. I knew I'd need it, since the suit had been designed for a very tight fit.

Before I started, I debated briefly about what to put in the crotch. The suit had two large holes there, with thick molded collars. They could be left open, or any of a host of custom accessories could be snapped into place, making a watertight seal. A moments reflection told me that Jurgen wouldn't be likely to want to make love right there in the lab. I opted for a pair of thin sheaths, into which I pressed two of my most prized toys: a pair of large soft rubber phalluses, each of which has a steel capsule inside, partly filled with mercury. I didn't want to use vibrators because while they might be exciting at first, I'd be numb after an hour or so. These plugs on the other hand, would wiggle and vibrate only when I moved.

After installing the sleeves and the plugs inside the suit, I slathered the thick, oily silicone all over the inside, and then spread a thin film over myself as well. Wouldn't want to chafe, I told myself, suppressing a giggle.

Getting the suit on without help was a challenge. If the rubber had been any thicker, I would never have gotten my feet into the boots. The neck was reinforced, but even so, I worried that it might tear as I struggled to pull it over my hips and get my arms and shoulders into it. I'm a big girl, not overweight, in fact a little too slender Jurgen used to tell me, but I have an ample bosom and a prominent, muscular derrier, so I had to work to get the neck over them. I had to force my breasts through the holes by hand. The feeling as they plopped through and my nipple rings hit the inside of the cups was exquisite.

Finally, as the collar opening shrank against my neck, the plugs slid into me suddenly and I gasped at being stuffed so full without warning. I held onto the mirror for balance as a little wave of warmth swept through me. I wondered for a moment whether the plugs I had chosen might be a little too large, but then threw caution to the wind. I might not talk Jurgen into sex at the lab, but I was definitely going to enjoy this night!

Now that I was fully dressed, I indulged in a moment of narcissism, standing before the dressing mirror to admire myself. The fit was perfect! I couldn't have asked for better. Even the fingers of the gloves fit snugly and without a wrinkle, which is unusual.

I took a few tentative steps and found that I could walk without breaking my neck, but I'd have to go slowly at first. While these heels were only a little higher than the ones I wore almost every day, the effect on my balance was significant. It would take time before I could walk in them as easily as my regular shoes.

For a moment, I forgot about my mission, revelling in the tight feeling of the second skin that encased me. I admit I got a little carried away and I found myself digging my fingers into my crotch, kneading my breasts. I was thoroughly turned on before I caught myself. With a struggle, I made myself stop, telling myself to save it for Jurgen.

I turned my attention to the corset. Lacing it was easier than it would sound. I think I have mentioned before that Jurgen built me a "lacing machine" after I complained that I couldn't lace myself into any of my corsets without his help. He's such a little inventor! Perhaps I should describe it. It's just two little winches, mounted on opposite walls of the play room and hooked up to a remote control. I just put one hook through each lace, thumb the button, and they pull in opposite directions. The only hard part is that I have to back off the winches, unhoook the laces, and do the final tightening and knot-tying myself.

I watched in the mirror across the room as the machine slowly drew the corset closed. I never grow tired of watching this fascinating process. What woman WOULDN'T love to see her waist gradually shrinking before her eyes? As the pressure on my abdomen built, I couldn't help wiggling a little. The dildos filling me front and rear responded, and I gasped. I already knew I would have to take it in steps. This corset was TIGHT! Even though I tight-lace on a daily basis, I had to stop several times to rest and allow my poor torso to adjust.

After about half an hour, I finally had the laces closed, knotted, and concealed beneath the locking cover. After only a few minutes, my abdomen became adjusted and stopped hurting, although it was still slightly uncomfortable. I would never have got it closed if I hadn't already been tight-lacing for years. And tight? I was held rigidly erect. The rigid embrace of this garment felt even more like a sort of portable bondage - one of the reasons I got into corsetting in the first place. Between the compression of my waist and the plugs down below, I was really getting turned on. At least I'd be in prime condition for Jurgen! On a lark, I decided to leave the key to the lock on the dresser when I left.

The only thing left now was the hood.

Diary, you already know how I feel about hoods. The sensation of having my hearing reduced, of the tight latex clinging around my head, is delightful. Most of the ones Jurgen has bought for me have gags fitted, and well. you know how I love having my mouth filled, too.

I decided to use the breathe-through inflatable gag tonight. It took effort to snap it into place, and I discovered it was impossible to spit out without removing it from the hood. The hood was made of the same thick purple rubber as the suit, so I lubricated it too, then spread more goo on my bare scalp. With only a slight struggle, I pulled the thick helmet on, and it slid into place with a wet sucking sound. It was no trouble to get the nostril tubes in my nose so I could breath freely.

It took a little more work to get the wide collar of the helmet tucked into and under the collar of the suit, but I did it. All of this was rather tiring, and I knew I'd probably need my husband's help to get out of the outfit. I fitted the pump to the mouthpiece, and pumped it, feeling the limp bladder within my mouth suddenly swell, gradually filling my cheeks, forcing my jaw apart, and making speech impossible. When my mouth was nicely full, I removed the pump from the tiny valve and screwed the little plug in. Looking in the mirror, it was difficult to tell that there was anything between the shiny molded lips of the mask.

I left the pump on the dresser too. Jurgen has always liked me gagged, and I figured that if he wanted to talk to me when I got there, he could always improvise something to release the pressure- he's handy that way. In the meantime, I wanted to feel helpless, trapped.

Okay, I was dressed. The only remaining task was to wipe off the dribbles of lubricant and apply a liberal amount of polish to the suit. That took only moments, and when I was done, I hesitated. I have never done anything quite this daring before. Suppose I was stopped by a police officer? I'm embarrassed to say that the idea of being helplessly incommunicado before a uniformed officer sent a sudden throb though me. I suppressed a shudder, and buried my fears.

Before I left, I took a last look in the mirror, admiring the deep color and brilliant shine of the suit. My breasts jutted out improbably high and firm, the corset held me brutally erect, while my now tiny waist (not to mention the back curve of the corset) emphasized my bust and buttocks even further. The skyscraper heels and the unbroken line of the boots showed off my legs to great advantage.

Not bad for thirty-four, I told myself. I strutted carefully to the stairs, and began picking my way carefully down to the front hall. That took longer than it should have, because the bouncing motions I made were repeated and amplified by those darned dildos inside me, and I had to stop several times for deep breathing and clenching teeth. Eventually, I made my way into the hall, found the car keys, and headed off for the lab and my poor unsuspecting husband.

.continued in Part II