Hiking - Soft Version

By kathrin-inaka

A few years of office work had left me somewhat out of shape, but by now it was quite obvious that I would make it to the summit, just later than planned. Everything else would have been somewhat embarrassing, because it wasn't about rock climbing or anything, just about walking a decent path up a medium sized hill to get a nice view on the surroundings.But even walking as slow as I did, I still caught up meter by meter to a girl walking in front of me. From a distance, she looked in decent shape and even when I got closer, that impression did not change. So that wasn't the reason why she was making even slower progress than I did.

However, by getting closer, the reasons for her slow progress go more and more apparent.On first glance, she was properly dressed for a trip like that: Jeans shorts, a tank top, backpack and solid boots.But on a close look, when I finally caught up, things were about as wrong as they could be. I don't even know where to start.

Ok, let's start with her boots. They were brown suede leather and laced tightly, as good hiking boots are supposed to. Not quite typical for hiking boots were their height: Knee length. But most out of place were their two inch platform and their seven inch stiletto heels. Mind you, the platform had a decent profile, but she still had to very carefully place each foot to not stumble. Actually her ankles were wobbling all the time and she stumbled every couple of steps, each time nearly breaking her ankles. But she never did break them or even seemed to be in any pain, so I guessed her boots were properly reinforced at the ankles.

Her shorts were actually hot pants, stretched to the breaking point by her incredible bubble but, but that was just a minor detail. More importantly, her tank top was actually a corset, crushing her waist down to a size that seemed physically impossible. A solid steel belt was padlocked around her waist, making sure she did not open or even loosen the corset. The belt was so incredible small, I wondered how she was able to breath.

Between her legs, I could see two handles sticking out of what was obviously her pussy and her asshole. Her hotpants must had holes at those spots. The handles were long enough for a solid one handed grip and about as thick as, well, things you tend to stick into a girl. Ok, the front one was about as thick as a regular penis, the rear one somewhat smaller. Each handle was connected to her backpack by a reinforced hose, much like those used in showers. The backpack itself was a locked steel box, apparently welded to her steel belt and to a solid collar padlocked around her neck. More reinforced hoses went over her shoulders to something at the front of her body.

From what I could see from behind, underneath hotpants and corset, she was clad in a full body latex catsuit with no apparent openings except for a hole high up the back of her head to let her hair out, forming a ponytail that nearly reached her buttocks. The catsuit was transparent and nearly colorless, just giving her skin a nice suntan impression. It was so tight, it looked vacuumed on, but there was still sweat pooling underneath it. While walking, I could see the sweat bubbles making their way down between skin and latex until they vanished in her boots. Each time she lifted a leg, there was a small damp spot where her platform had touched the floor, so whoever put her into that outfit had thought about excessive moisture.

When I finally caught up, I was able to see her side and her front as well. Most obvious items were a pair of boobs, even more incredible than her butt and her waist. They sat, visible to everyone and protected only by a thin layer of latex, in half-cups built into the corset. The cups were barely high enough to cover her nipples. The reinforced hoses that went over her shoulders continued all the way to her nipples, where they were attached to the corset’s cups. I did not know what they were meant to do, but given that similar hoses went to the plugs in her nether regions, I was able to make a good guess. Her huge tits wobbled and wriggled around in their cups with each step, but they did not actually bounce or fell out. Probably the only small mercy on her book on the moment.

The catsuit, as it turned out, had three more holes, not counting the one for the ponytail: One larger one that allowed her lustrous lips to pop out in a perpetual pout and two small ones at her nostrils. Not sure if there were holes for her eyes, because there were dark lenses glued onto the catsuit’s mask over her eyes. Apparently someone thought about sunglasses, too, this high up on the mountain.

Her arms and hands were somewhat useless, because her wrists were chained to her belt by heavy bracelets and chains about a foot long each. They allowed some movements of her arms, helping her maintain her balance, but did not allow her to reach anything useful.

I pulled up next to her and slowed down to her speed, then said: “Hi!”

She started, gasped, nearly stumbled, stopped and turned to me. Then she blushed deeply and mumbled: “Hey!”

I had spent the last ten minutes thinking about an opening, but her situation wasn’t something very common, so I could not think about anything to say about it. I retreated to useless small talk: “Nice day for a walk up here, right?”

She looked around, apparently aware of her surroundings for the first time: “Oh, yes!”

Both her tits suddenly seemed to bounce once in their cups without her moving at all. At the same time, her backpack beeped. About the moment I noticed the movement, she flinched and said, “Ouch!”

Then she looked around angrily and once more: “Ouch!”

Her tits had bounced again. And the backpack had beeped again.

“Ok ok!” She sighed and started walking again.

Somewhat confused, I caught up again and asked: “What was that?”

She shrugged and explained: “I cannot stop. When I do stop, I’ll get shocked.”

She continued walking at a rather slow pace. Even given her current situation, she seemed to be moving more slowly than needed.

“What happens if you fall?” I asked.

She shrugged: “Don’t think I wanna find out!”

“That’s why you’re so slow?”

She blushed again in the cutest way I’ve ever seen: “Uhm, well, not quite.”

“Why then?”

“Well, the fast I move, the faster they move?”

“They?”

“They!” she gestured towards her crotch

“Oh!” Now it was my turn to blush.

“Looks like he doesn’t want me to stop and he doesn’t want me to move too fast, either.”

“He? The he who put you into that?”

“Yes, HIM! With capital letters. Whoever he is.”

“You don’t know him?” I stuttered surprised.

“No,” she frowned, “I don’t even know how I got here. Or where >here< is in the first place.”

“What?”

“I just woke up a couple of hours ago, sitting on a rock, because my nipples were on fire. Took me quite a couple of shocks to figure out what he wanted.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“What?”

“That someone you don’t even know did this to you? And why do you know it’s a him?”

“Must be a he. Don’t think a she would do something like that. And it does bother me. Or at least did. Somewhat. Not so much anymore.”

“Not anymore? How’s that?”

“Well,” surprisingly enough, she blushed even deeper, “I kind of like it. I’ve been dreaming about stuff like that a lot.”

“Oh,” I looked away and blushed as well.

“Wait!” She said and stopped suddenly.

“What?” I stopped as well and turned around.

She glared at me and said accusingly, somewhat out of breath: “We’ve been walking a lot faster than I’ve been allowed to before.”

“Uhm, yes?” I was confused.

“So it’s not that he wants me to go slow all the time, he merely wanted you to catch up. Are you him?” she asked and frowned at me.

“Uhm, no,” I shook my head, then smiled: “On the other hand, if I’d…”

“Ouch!” The backpack beeped again.

“...be him, that’s what I would say, right?”

“Ouch, fuck!” she shouted as the was another beep and started walking again, “You stay right there!”

“Uhm, ok,” that wasn’t what I wanted to do, but I could see her point and stayed put.

“Ouch,” she picked up speed as the backpack beeped again. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed the beeping was somewhat higher pitched this time.

“Ouch! Ouch!” she walked even faster, the beeps coming faster as well.

“Aaaargh!” She stopped, her body jerking, then turned around unsteadily.

The beeps of the backpack had turned into one single long tone. I could see her tits rippling and bouncing in their cups. Utterly confused, she took a step back to me. The tone changed back to beeping and her tits rippled less frequently. She took another step and another back to me. When she was about an arm’s length away, there was no more beeping and she relaxed.

“Apparently I’m not allowed to leave you.” She glared at me accusingly.

“Don’t hit me, I don’t have anything to do with all that. I’m just here by chance.”

“By chance?” She laughed, this time pointing at my crotch.

I blushed again, but did not do anything to hide my hardon: “Well, can’t say I don’t enjoy it. But I did not plan it. Or make it happen. Or anything.”

She shrugged: “Can’t make you confess anywa...ouch!”, Beep, “What the fuck?”

This time the beep had been the deeper tone as well. Nevertheless, she did not move and the inevitable happened: Beep - “Ouch!”

“Walk!” I said.

“What? Ouch! Ok!” She started walking again and I fell into step. The beeping and the shocks stopped.

“What do you know that I don’t,” she asked accusingly.

“Not sure,” I countered, “but there seemed to be two different kinds of beeps. Let me try. Just keep walking.”

I stopped and she continued. At least, until there was another high pitched beep: “Ouch!”

She stopped again and I resumed walking.

“Keep walki…” I began to say, but there was another deep tone beep, followed by the customary “Ouch!”

She followed me again.

“What was that?” she complained.

“One moment, just one more test.”

“Test?” she asked.

“Just keep walking. Don’t speed up, don’t stop.”

Instead I sped up, walking ahead. A couple of seconds later, I heard “Beep - Ouch!” behind me. It has been the high pitched beep again.

I stopped until she caught up again, then explained: “There are two beeps. One high pitched and one low.”

“Oh, ok,” she nodded.

“The deep one means: Keep walking. The high one means: Close distance.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“If you stop, you get the deep beep to tell you to start walking again.”

“Yes, I got that.”

“Good. The high pitched beep come when we’re more than about a meter of so apart.”

“Ah, damn!” she smiled at me.

“Yeah, looks like we’re stuck with each other until we can figure that out.”

“Indeed.”

We walked for a while in companionable silence, then there was a double beep, but only  one “Ouch!”.

I turned to look at her: “Huh?”

She had stopped and gestured towards another way that we had passed a couple of step before: “I know that already. It tells me to take that way.”

“Ah, I see,” I nodded.

Beep - “Ouch!”

“Oh, sorry, let’s move.” We backtracked a bit and took the other way.

I checked on my smartphone, then concluded: “Looks like it’s leading us to the summit on the shortest way.”

For the next hour or so, until we reached the top of the hill, we got to know each other, talking about this and that. And mostly about our personal sexual preferences, which turned out to be a surprisingly good match. And both involved situations like she was in. In her case, with her being the victim. In my case, with someone else, preferably a girl, being the victim.

When we reached the summit, the view turned out to be rather stunning. Though not as stunning at looking at her. She continued walking, apparently expecting more shocks if she stopped to admire the view. I followed her around, wondering what she had in mind, until she found another way of the hilltop. However, as she tried it, there was another double beep and she turned around. She tried all three ways that lead down, but was not allowed to use any. She continued to walk in a circle along the small wall that secured the viewpoint.

“Uhm, what now?” She looked at me confused.

“Dunno,” I shrugged.

“Am I supposed to run in circles until I fall asleep.”

“Hm, did you try stopping?” I suggested.

“Ah, well, I’ll try. You just want me to get shocked.” She winked at me, but nevertheless stopped.

We waited for a couple of seconds, but nothing happened. Just as I raised an eyebrow, there was a hiss and a click coming from her backpack. She sighed and visibly relaxed: “Oh, wow!”

“What happened?” I asked.

She gestured towards her crotch: “They just deflated.”

I blinked: “They were inflated?”

“Just, apparently. Though I didn’t know, either. I just thought that they were too damn large.” She grinned. And frowned, because something metallic clanking at backpack as she moved. She turned and asked: “What going on back there?”

“A small door opened with some key behind it.”

“Oh, finally!”

“You wanna get out?” I mocked her.

She shrugged and smiled lopsided: “Well, yes and no. But do it anyway, please!”

I shrugged, too, “Ah, well.”

Using the keys from her backpack, I was easily able to open her collar and her belt and free her wrists from their bracelets. The hoses that connected to her nipples just popped free by themselves. While I was trying not to drop the backpack with all it’s attached bits and pieces, because it was still attached to her nether regions, she simply bend down and pulled the plugs out with a groan. That left me somewhat useless with my hands full, while she dropped on a nearby bench with a groan and flexed her feet, as far as her stiff boots allowed. I was just about to decide what to do with the backpack when it beeped and then burst into flames. Well, not actually burst into flames, but nevertheless burned my hands. Well, not actually burn my hands, either. Probably it just had shocked me as well. Anyway, I dropped it and it went down noisily. She did not even flinch, resting her back on the bench, visibly relaxing. She still wasn’t dressed appropriately, in a full body catsuit, ridiculous corset and high heeled hiking boots. I shrugged and sat down next to her to relax my feet as well. Which did not feel particularly good, either, and I was wearing sensible shoes. I couldn’t imagine how her feet felt still in that sky high torture boots.

When I was just about to ask her if she needed help to get rid of shoes and corset, we had sex. While I was still horny as hell and did think about fucking her quite a lot, I was still sufficiently in control that I had decided to postpone this for a later date. If there was going to be a later date. I still had to ask her if we could meet again after we made it through this. Not sure if she was even hornier and less in control or simply decided to screw it, well, screw me, anyway she suddenly turned, opened my fly and we had sex then and there, right on the bench. And then next to the bench. And then I licked her sitting on the wall. And then...well, dunno, I zoned out at one point.

When I came back to, I found myself lying on the bench, naked, with my clothes as a cushion. She was sitting on the floor, leaning against the bench, softly fondling my neck. I turned to look at her and found her, surprisingly enough, still fully dressed in catsuit, corset and boots. While I dressed, we discussed what to do. She did not want to undress, because, yes, her feet were killing her, but walking barefoot on that ground didn’t seem a good idea, either. And without the corset, her huge tits would be bouncing all over the place, because she didn’t have a bra. And, by the way, she had to be cut out, anyway, as she showed me. The laces from both boots and corset had been drawn tight, tied off and then the excess laces had been cut off. So no way to loosen them without opening them all the way. And the catsuit appeared to have a seam around the neck, but it had been glued shut as well. When we found out that she was stuck, she panicked a bit. And then we had sex again.

Then, with me dressed once more, we started down the mountain. We had resolved to walk until we reach the first road a car could drive on and then take a taxi. It would be OK for her to walk for a bit longer, but not for too long, not in these shoes.

It turned out that we, oddly enough, were staying in the same hotel. And even stranger, neither of us payed for it, because we both had won our holidays in an internet giveaway. Obviously, we had been set up, but for the life of us, we could not figure out by whom. And why, in the first place.

I wondered how she would take the attention once we reached populated areas, but she took it in stride and with her head high. She even walked up to the hotel reception and demanded her room keys as if her outfit was the newest fashion and nothing to be excited about. The hotel boy nearly fell off his chair when he saw her. While I did take my key as well, she pulled me along into her room and we had sex again. Then we finally took my swiss army knife to work and freed her from her confinement. Which we both did very reluctantly, because we had to destroy the catsuit to get her out, as tight as it was. Naked, she looked hot, too, but a totally different kind of hot.

We took a shower and had sex again. I started to wonder how many times more my dick would take before it got sore, but it kept working just fine. Finally feeling somewhat human again, and not like a sweaty doll, as she put it, she opened her suitcase and found it empty.

“What the fuck?” she looked nonplussed.

“Maybe they put it in the wardrobe.” I pointed to a large door in the wall.

“Ah, maybe.” She walked over, swaying all the sexy bits and pieces a woman can sway while walking, if she wants to be admired. Dutifully, I did admire her.

She opened the wardrobe and said: “Wow!”

The wardrobe, as it turned out, was actually of the walk-in kind and quite large at that, too. And it was chock full of fetish gear of all kinds of shape, form, material and purpose. As it turned out, the same was true for the wardrobe in my room.

Did you ever had diner in a latex tuxedo? Accompanied by a girl dressed in a latex evening gown? Quite an experience, I can tell you. Especially, if the gown had a built-in corset and a skirt so tight, she could not even climb stairs. Nevertheless it had a two meter long train attached to the hem, making sure she would only walk forwards. While it left her shoulders free, it had long sleeves with attached gloves. For jewelry we had chosen a locked collar and heavy wrist shackles that were connected by about a handwidth of chain. All made from chrome steel with inset sparkling gems. I didn’t know they made restrains that, well, decorative.

After a full day in corset and high heels, I was surprised that she insisted that I close the corset all the way, which took quite some effort. I was equally surprised by her choice of footwear: A pair of stripper type sandals with five inch platform and ten inch heels. But who am I to complain? She said she planned to be sitting most of the time, anyway.