Raissa's Revenge

After she discovered the truth about what had happened during her "quest", Raissa's first instinct had been to rush to Francesca and... do what? She didn't know, and that made her pause. She wanted revenge, that was certain. And she realized she wanted Francesca to be humiliated in public, because that had happened to her. She needed to find a way to get Fran outside in her beloved gear. That would cool off that horny bitch! Well, not literally, perhaps.

---

It was Saturday, and Francesca wanted to spend the day locked inside her Glosssuit. She called her good friend Raissa and asked if she could come over later to free her. That was no problem, Raissa said, and she asked what she was going to wear.
"My blue Glosssuit, with the open face, and a gag," Francesca said.
"You should put the orange pants and jacket on underneath," Raissa suggested.
"Hmm... Why not? This will be a hot day," Francesca laughed.
"Enjoy!"

Twenty minutes later, Francesca was lying on her bed, dressed in the orange down pants and jacket, with the blue Glosssuit on top. Exactly like Raissa had been dressed when she had sent her to the fetish party. The thought of poor Raissa, dressed like this outdoors, made her extremely horny. It had been a naughty thing to do, she thought. Francesca had agreed to go to the fetish party, but then started having second thoughts. She wanted to know what it was like, but she didn't dare to go. She had thought up a plan to make Raissa go in her place, and once that plan was formed she couldn't get it out of her head. And eventually committed to it.

It had been Raissa's idea to wear the jacket under the suit... just like how she was dressed that day. Usually Raissa didn't mind what she wore. Was it possible that Raissa had enjoyed wearing this outfit? Perhaps they could do some sessions in down together? The idea drove her wild and she climaxed.

She was dozing on the bed when suddenly the bedroom door opened. Half asleep and with her head packed in down-filled nylon, she had heard nothing. So she had the fright of her life when there was suddenly a man in her bedroom, dressed completely in black, with a balaclava over his head. She jumped up and would have screamed, but the gag and her hoods blocked the sound almost completely. She backed away in the furthest corner but the man closed the distance in a few steps. She was paralyzed with fear when he grabbed her and threw her face down on the bed. At least he can't rape me, shot through Fran's head, and the absurdity of that caused a brief panic-induced giggle which made her briefly choke on her gag. She made a snorting sound as she sucked air through her nose.

Meanwhile the man was sitting across her legs and ass while he pulled her arms behind her and tied them together. First her elbows, then the wrists. Despite the thick filling of her suit, he managed to tie her arms securely together. He had still not said a word, and neither had she, obviously. Wasn't he surprised about that? Wasn't he surprised to find her in a down suit? Or was he just too professional to show it? That thought sent a cold shiver down her spine despite the fact that she was hot and sweaty.

Once her arms were tied, the man shifted his position and started on her legs. Francesca feebly tried to kick but her struggles only resulted in more heat trapped inside the suit. Finally the man got off her and she felt her ankles being pulled towards her ass. The connecting rope between her ankles and elbows was pulled as tight as possible, completing her hogtie.

The man left the room and she was alone, her mind filled with fearful thoughts, her body drenched in sweat.

Some time later - half an hour, perhaps? - she heard a rustling sound. The man was back, and he lifted her knees while pulling something under them. He worked it further under her body and when he reached her head she could see what it was. An huge, brown garbage bag. Fresh panic engulfed Francesca and she desperately tried to kick and scream, but of course, tied up and gagged as she was, this had absolutely no effect. The bag was pulled over her and closed. Francesca noticed that their were tiny holes in the bag, which would allow air passage. She hoped that meant the man didn't want to kill her.

Now she was lifted up, one person holding her knees, another her shoulders. So there was a second robber. Carefully they carried her out of her bedroom. Then she was placed down again. She judged they must be at the top of the stairs now.

Nothing happened for a moment, and then suddenly she was pushed forward! She screamed in her gagged as she was pushed face forward towards the stairs! But instead of tumbling down the stairs (and likely breaking her neck) she slid over a smooth surface, accelerating downwards. This didn't quite stop her panic however, and she kept howling in her gag while she slid faster. Then the surface leveled off, she was still carried forward by her momentum, until hands stopped the motion of her bagged form. A slide, she realized when she finally calmed down a bit. They had placed a slide on top of the stairs, with soap or oil on it to make it more slippery. At that point somebody bumped against her knees - the second robber coming down.

Then she was being carried again. Through the door - outside now. Placed down again, on something soft. Then, unmistakable - the crashing sound of a trunk being closed, right above her. She was being kidnapped!

The engine started, and now they were driving. Soon she realized the entire trunk was filled with soft things, pillows or mattrasses, so she didn't get hurt when the car turned. So her kidnappers were concerned with her well-being. That was a good thing, at least. That wasn't to say that she was comfortable though. She was still in a tight hogtie, with a large ball in her mouth, dressed in layers of down inside a plastic bag, in a stuffed trunk. Her nostrils were wide as she kept taking deep breaths of warm air that would rapidly run out of oxygen. She wondered how long she could survive here.

Thankfully, it was a short ride. After ten minutes the car stopped and the trunk was opened again. Then the bag was opened and even her ropes were being untied. Still facedown, Francesca had not seen her kidnapper yet. Once she was untied, her legs were pulled over the edge of the trunk so she could easily climb out. She turned and faced her captor.

"!!" No sound escaped her suit, but "Carl" was what she had tried to say. The man - now without balaclava - was Carl, Raissa's boyfriend!

"You've done something pretty nasty to Raissa," he said, "and this is payback time. You'll have to walk home like this. Raissa will be waiting for you. I suggest you use the time to reflect on what you did and think of how you will apologize to her."

He turned back to the car and took something from the passenger seat. Her oversized Moonboots, which were meant to fit over the attached feet of her Glosssuit. "You'll need these," he said putting them on the ground. Then he closed the trunk, got in the car and drove away.

Francesca was standing in a clearing in the forest. She recognized the place. She had picknicked here last summer. With Raissa, of course. She was about 10 km from home.

Awkwardly, she picked up the oversized Moonboots and walked over to a bench. She sat down and started putting them on. It was difficult work with her limited vision and the suit's thick mittens, but she took her time for it. She was in no hurry. She knew she deserved this, but that didn't mean she looked forward to her walk of shame.

Of course, some part of her did look forward to it. While she was lacing up the Moonboots, she felt excitement and fear doing a strange dance in the vicinity of her stomach. She managed to tighten the hood of the Glosssuit, making the opening very small. At least that hid the other hood underneath, and the gag. When she finally stood up and started walking, it felt like she was dreaming. This couldn't be happening. But it was. And she knew there was no way out, no way to avoid this.

---

It was horrible. Every person she passed stared at her. She tried to avoid their gaze, but she still saw their amazed and amused faces. Even through her hoods, she could hear giggles and laughter and people talking about her right after she passed. She could never understand the words, of course, but by the way conversation abruptly broke off when people noticed her, she knew it was about her.

The worst was when she had to pass four young women, about her own age, all immaculately dressed in a way that showed they cared about fashion. They were wearing heels that made clacking noises on the pavement - until the moment Francesca crossed them, and she knew they had stopped and turned around to look at her. She thought she'd never forget the sound of their laughter.

And it could get worse still. Three boys, about 15 year old, were walking in the same direction, and they were now right behind her. They talked about her loudly, clearly not minding that she could hear them.
"I think she's going to climb the Himalaya!"
"Yeah, she must've taken a wrong turn on her way to Africa!"
That one's not passing any geography tests soon, Fran thought.
"Look at those boots!"
"Yeah it says Moon Boot on them. Maybe it's a spacesuit?"
One of them now danced to the front of her, and asked: "Hey are you going to the moon? Or the Himalaya?"
When she didn't reply he went back behind her and said to his friends: "She's got her hood tied almost shut! Like Kenny from South Park!"
Another one now came in front of her and asked: "Are you Kenny?"
He went back and reported: "She's not answering!"
"At least Kenny makes noises, this one's dumb!"
"Look! There's a lock on her zipper! She can't get out of that suit!"
This was going bad. She had to get rid of them. Francesca turned into a side street, hoping they wouldn't follow. It didn't work. The first boy showed up in front of her again. "Can't you talk?" he asked. He peered into her hood opening and deliberately blocked her path. She tried to go around him but he stepped in front of her, forcing her to stop. She tried to turn away again but then he grabbed the drawstrings of her hood, pulling it completely closed. She pulled her head away and grabbed at the drawstrings with her mitten, but he easily held on.
"Let me tie this for you," the boy said. He was starting to make a knot, which would seal her in the darkness of her hood, with no way to escape. Gagged and blind and unable to open the knot with her mittens, how would she ever get out? Panic gave her strength, and she roughly pulled the strings out of her hands and managed to open her hood a bit again. Then, before he could try again, she pushed herself between the boys and ran away as fast as she could.

Francesca ran until she was out of breath, which was soon because of her gag. She breathed heavily through her nose and turned to look behind her. They hadn't followed her. If they had, they would of course have outrun her with ease. Francesca was now even hotter than before, and completely exhausted. Her nostrils were wide, making snorting noises as she greedily sucked in air. She walked on for a bit but eventually she had to rest. The heat inside the suit completely drained her energy. Francesca entered a park, located a bench and fell down on it.

An old woman shuffled past and then sat down on the bench. "That's a fancy suit," the woman commented. "You must think it's really cold to wear a thing like that. Me, I don't think it's cold at all now. We used to have real winters. This is nothing. You young people have grown weak." Francesca of course remained silent during this monologue. "Yeah, ignore me, I'm just a babbling old fool. That's what my son seems to think too. Respect for your elders, that's another thing of the past it seems." Francesca stood up and walked away as fast as she could.

On and on she walked. She was humiliated, tired, and sweating so much it seemed her clothes must all be glued to her body by now. But eventually she got home, and went in through the back door. Raissa was waiting inside, sitting on the sofa. Francesca went down on her knees in front of her and hung her head in a mute apology.

"Francesca, I'm willing to forgive you for what you did to me, on one condition."
Francesca looked up at Raissa.
"From now on, you will wear your hood up whenever you are with me."
Francesca nodded.

It's been a while since my previous post...

Writing is not easy.

You need inspiration, time, and the willingness to spend that time writing. And unfortunately, there isn't a whole lot of pay-off. My hope when starting this blog was to get in tocuh with people with similar fantasies, or who can in another way appreciate mine, but such contacts have been few. Getting comments on my stories really makes all the difference between writing and not bothering to.

That said, another problem has been the story "Alissa Razatski". It's not that I don't have ideas for how to continue - I do. The problem is, the plan I have for this story is rather big - it should become my longest story so far. But because of that, I can't get myself to actually write it. It's a lot of work, and I never find the energy to do it. I still intend to write it, eventually, but for now the best solution was to pause that story so I could at least allow myself to write others. Like a sequel to Raissa's Quest. I hope you will enjoy Raissa's Revenge.

Firestarter: What is your favorite story and why?