Ben is a successful stockbroker with a nice, old home in a ritzy old

suburban neighborhood in New England.  Secretly, he keeps a couple of

hott, consensually submissive females in the basement bomb shelter of his

large home, which he's converted into a play dungeon.  In their warm

and dry, but hard, small, and windowless cells, they enjoy a respite

of a few days to recover from the ordeals they endured during Ben's

big Thanksgiving party.  In the workshop next door Ben can be heard for several days drilling, hammering, and welding....all the while whistling merry Christmas tunes.

Brunette Jasmine is the first to be "invited" to join Ben in the

workshop, where her Rubenesque form is fitted reluctantly into a tight neoprene catsuit, complete with catheter and anal tubes.  A posture collar is wrapped round her neck, high in front so that her chin is forced up

and head slightly back.  Then, she is mounted upright to a sturdy

frame of stainless steel, with some kind of tanks and machinery at the

base. Once she's secure, on tiptoe with feet together and arms pinned

up behind her back, she's bundled in layer after layer of insulating

material.  It starts to get hot inside....sweat pours down Jasmine's

brow tickling her nose, but of course she can't reach up to scratch.

Her outfit is topped off with a thick insulated hood...a wide rigid

tube reaches into mouth propping her teeth wide and built-in goggles

form narrow windows on the world.  Between the intruding tube and the

posture collar her head is now forced well back, but swivelling her

eyes downwards she can still see straight ahead.  Finally, a layer of

waterproof plastic is wrapped over the whole padded mass.  Jasmine's

starting to panic, sure she's going to roast alive inside the thick

bundling, when Ben picks up her supporting frame on a refrigerator

dolly and wheels her rigid form up a ramp, around the house and out

into the frigid pre-dawn twilight.

Setting her up right in the middle of the snow-covered front lawn, and

whistling merry tunes from behind the thick woolen scarf that wraps

his face, Ben begins packing snow tightly around her.  He builds a

narrow cone all around her, right over the top of her head!  To

Jasmine this comes actually as a relief, even as the snow is packed

around her face shutting out her sight, since the frozen snow begins

to take some of the heat away through her thick insulation and lower

her temperature.  Then she hears scraping and digging sounds....and

her eyes are opened again!  Somewhat at least...beyond the goggle

lenses she peers out through tunnels Ben's fingers have dug in the

snow.  More digging and she feels fresh, bitingly cold air on her

tongue, and knows the mouth-tube has been exposed.  More digging, and

through the insulated padding she can vaguely guess her master is

carving out her snow-cone at neck and waist level.

A brief moment of silence, then movement in front of her ... and then

the familiar sensation of a prod entering between Jasmine's propped

jaws.  It's hard, but strange...in fact it tastes like....carrot?  It

reaches not quite to the back of her mouth, then suddenly it's gone

again.  Her stomach rumbles deep inside the snow as her master pushes

some kind of warm mush (oatmeal?) down the tube.  She swallows

quickly, and then the carrot-prod is back again, pressing down on her

tongue.  Finally her master blocks her eye-tunnels with big, dark,

transluscent beads that barely allow her a dimmed, distorted view of

the snowy pre-dawn streetscape.  Jasmine sees his dim form step back,

put hands on hips and look her up and down.  Clapping his hand

approvingly, his lips move and through inches of snow Jasmine thinks she can hear muffled words....something about "naughty" and "next year."

Her master walks past Jasmine toward the house, and she is left

alone.  She is fixed rigidly in her frame and thick insulation, the

heat generated by her voluptuous body competing with the thick snow

packed around her outside to maintain a fairly comfortable

temperature.  The darkened eye-tunnels allow her only a narrow glimpse

across the street, taking in the neighbor's mailbox and a bit of the

gaily-lit home behind.

Back in the secret basement, tall, buxom, blonde Holly is led out to face a strange Holly-sized armature fashioned of steel rods, with one arm up like the Statue of Liberty.  Silver pistons, tanks, and cables adorn its frame.  She only gets to see it for a moment before she is pulled away to be fitted in her own insulated neck-to-toe neoprene suit, not hooded nor

as thick as Jasmine's but tubed in similar fashion.  Oddly, the legs

seem to be much thicker than the upper body and sleeves...but between

the waste tubes is a slit, affording access to Holly's bald pussy.

Once fitted Holly is chained facing the wall, where she hears clanks

and knocks as (she assumes) the weird armature she saw earlier is

carried away and upstairs.

Many minutes pass, then Ben returns for Holly.  Led on her leash in

the clumsy, thick-legged, insulated suit, she struggles to follow as

he leads her up the steps, out a door into the snowy tree-lined

backyard, and then...up a ladder?  Holly's rubber anal and catheter

tubes bump against the rungs as she obediently ascends in the dim

morning light, grateful for the use of her arms to assist her as she

climbs past two stories and...onto the roof?  Here the climb up the

slick slate tiles is frightening, and the chill air worms it sway

through the crotch-slit to tingle her tight snatch, but her

rubber-shod feet afford good traction as she ascends behind her master

to the ridge, next to the chimney.

At the peak of the house, a gesture from Ben indicates that she is to

climb inside the chimney.  Turning her blonde head to the gaping shaft

Holly sees the armature she'd glimpsed before, mounted partially

inside.  Looking down into the dark, she can make out two foot-shaped

pieces of bright metal, like pedals set at the same height at either

side of the narrow shaft.  Slowed by fear of the dizzying height, but

too well-trained to hesitiate, Holly swings one leg then the other

into the chimney and stands on the bright pedals; her waist is level

with the top of the chimney.  Quickly, Ben fixes straps around her

feet, leg, torso, forehead, and arms, until she is fastened securely

to the rigid Statue-of-Liberty armature.

Then he begins fitting her outer costume...it is red, trimmed in white

fur, and thickly insulated.  The back and sleeves are slit open to

allow fitting over Holly's bound form, and closed by velcro.  When her

jacket and bulky red mittens are fitted Ben pulls a thick neoprene

hood over Holly's head; it tucks into her thick red coat and the

mask-like front is flesh colored.  Then a huge flesh-colored neoprene

ball gag is strapped into Holly's mouth.  She can't see it, but at the

front of the big ball a pair of red rubber lips have been glued.  A

long white beard is fitted over Holly's face, hiding her cheeks from the wind; the mouth opening is arranged and glued so that the red rubber lips can just be seen.  Then a pair of blue-lensed aviator goggles are fitted over her eyes - she's grateful for the relief from the cold, stinging breeze, which has made her eyes tear up - and a thick hat pulled down over her ears.

Reaching down into the chimey again Ben connects the anal and urinary

catheters, then bolts to the framework a large, rubbery dildo,

pointing straight up.  He looks through the dark blue goggles into

Holly's blinking eyes as he fits the tip into the slit in her suit,

and between her shaved lower lips... then leans back slightly and

presses a button on a remote control.  Suddenly the pedals drop, and

the rigidly fixed Holly gasps as gravity forces her body down onto the

rubber invader!  Up again, then down....she bobs in the chimney,

slowly, the thick prong penetrating her a full 8 inches with every

cycle.  She tries to close her legs but they are strapped wide and

tightly to the steel framework, toes and knees nearly touching either

side of the brick shaft.

After the first few strokes she notices that her hand has been waving.

Her right wrist was bound high up in front, by her right collarbone,

where it feels as though a heavy weight pulls it back against her

padded body.  But the red-mittened left hand is raised out in space, level with her head....and now it's waving back and forth, driven by the hydraulic actuators hidden under the padded sleeve and beckoning Hello! to all the

dim, frozen, empty street below.

Ben takes a careful step back along the roof ridge, looks at the

bobbing slave and again claps his hands in approval.  "Merry Christmas, Holly!  You've been very nice this year!"

He plants a kiss on her neoprene-covered forehead, then makes his way carefully down towards the ladder's top.

It's quiet now as the Sun rises over suburban Connecticut, all draped

in Winter white.  From her high perch the bobbing, waving Holly scans the roof of Ben's house, hung about all its edges and eaves with multicolored lights, and the neighbors' homes similarly decorated.  Grinding slowly up and

down on the thick rubber dildo, she sees the paperboy approach on his

bicycle, bundled thick against the cold.  He stops his bike between a

couple of frozen puddles, and looking up at Ben's new decorations the

boy smiles as he makes eye contact with the waving Santa sliding up

and down in the chimney.

Of course he can have no idea what he's really seeing; the bulky bag

slung over the figure's right shoulder turns his mind to the gifts he

hopes to find under the tree, a few days from now.  As Holly watches

through her blue-lensed goggles the boy's gaze drops to the big

snowman in the middle of the lawn.  It's a good one, three big balls

of snow stacked upon each other and standing maybe six feet high, with

stovepipe hat and a long carrot nose.  There's a scarf around its

neck, and (though Holly can't see from her perspective) no doubt big

black buttons and eyes.

The paperboy tosses the morning news to Ben's doorstep and pedals down

the street.  For a moment, before the slow-humping dildo rumbles to life with powerful vibrations, Holly wonders whatever became of Jasmine....