Caroline 04 Spider-Woman


Copyright Oggbashan January 2013
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons.

This story is a sequel to my earlier stories about Caroline’s creations: Birth and Death, Birthed Again and Caroline’s Lamia, but it can be read on its own.
The story so far at the end of Caroline’s Lamia:

Caroline is an artist. She uses an unusual form of media. Her speciality is giant inflatable figures with some animation.

Caroline had been using me as the test pilot for her sexual creations, The Partner that could be male or female; The Goddess which swallowed her victim into her womb and then gave birth; and Caroline’s Lamia which could catch and wrap her victim in her long snake tail before devouring the victim by enclosing him in her body.

I had been trapped by Caroline inside The Goddess and left for hours. I persuaded her to get inside and trapped her too – but only for minutes.

Although I am willing to help Caroline, I end up as a helpless victim, confined in her creations and totally at her mercy. Caroline has had a commission from the owner of a sexual encounters club to produce The Goddess and The Lamia for use in the club.

Three months after my experience with The Lamia, Caroline and I are acknowledged as girlfriend and boyfriend. We make love to each other even if I am always her victim, go out together, share experiences, and I still help with her creations.


Jerry, the owner of the sexual encounters club, was very pleased with his members’ response to The Partner, The Goddess and The Lamia. Before Caroline delivered and installed them she had modified The Goddess so that the victim could breathe normally while confined in The Goddess’ womb, a feature she had tried for the first time with The Lamia.

Jerry wasn’t so convinced about The Partner. His club members weren’t keen on a sexual toy that could be male or female. Most of the men wanted a female Partner, most of the women wanted a male Partner, and didn’t like using one that had been used by the other sex. Of course, some men wanted a male Partner, and some women wanted a female Partner, but they didn’t want to use a reversible sex Partner.

Although Caroline had designed The Goddess and The Lamia to have male victims, both were popular with men and women. Again the club’s members wanted one for men and one for women, so Caroline had made copies of both. Four Goddesses and four Lamias had been installed at the club and all four, including the prototypes, had been operating satisfactorily for over a month now.

The Lamia’s feature that enabled her to catch and subdue a passing victim was very popular. Some of the members took delight in setting The Lamia’s controls so that she pounced on unsuspecting new members. Their surprise and consternation when they were dragged into The Lamia’s embrace was a feature of their initiation. Jerry did explain to new members that they could be unwilling victims of the club’s devices at any time and made sure they had signed a disclaimer that prevented them from objecting to anything that might happen on the club’s premises.

Jerry wanted Caroline to produce many more copies of The Partner but without the sex-change ability, and to design more creations that could work with more than one person, either sequentially or simultaneously.

Caroline, with my unskilled help when I was available in the evenings and weekends, had been manufacturing the copies of The Partner. She had taken on a friend from her University days, Angela, as a part-time software specialist. Angela was recovering from an abusive relationship and was grateful for both the work and the company while she rebuilt her life.

Angela hadn’t decided whether she hated all men or just the man who had abused her. Her interaction with me had been prickly at first, very defensive and she had been abrupt whenever she had to talk to me. As she saw me repeatedly becoming Caroline’s victim inside Caroline’s creations, and that Caroline and I were loving partners, Angela began to relax. She stopped seeing me as a possible threat but she was still wary. I’m not sure which of the two of us was more embarrassed whenever one of Caroline’s devices brought me to ejaculation when Angela was present. Gradually we accepted each other as fellow workers helping Caroline, sometimes even paired victims squashed together.

The three of us had discussed possible new inflatable creations and devices but hadn’t had time to do more than talk about the possibilities. Caroline and I had been working so hard, for such long hours, that our relationship was suffering. We were too tired at the end of each day to do anything except go to our respective homes or, at best, fall asleep in each other’s arms.

One Saturday night, as we climbed wearily into bed about two a.m., I decided that enough was enough.

“Jeremy can abidinpaşa escort wait!” I exclaimed. “Tomorrow is a rest day, Sunday. We’re not working. We’re having time for us, together.”

“Don’t let Jerry hear you say his real name,” Caroline protested sleepily, “no one is supposed to know he is Jeremy.”

“Jerry or Jeremy, he can wait a day. We’re so tired because we do nothing but work, eat and sleep. We need a day off.”

“OK, Nick. We need a day off. I agree. No work tomorrow. Now can we go to sleep? We need that first.”

Caroline was right. We were asleep within minutes.

The next morning I woke up first. I crept out of bed and went to make breakfast in bed for Caroline. She deserved it because she had been working too hard for too long.

When I brought the breakfast to her she was sitting up in bed. Only then did I notice that she had a cheap plastic ring on a gold chain around her neck.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“It’s one of my safety devices, Nick,” Caroline replied. “All the club members are given one. They wear it on a convenient finger, and if they press the inside with their thumb, like this…”

A shrill siren shrieked in the bedroom and a red light flashed on the wall.

“Turn it off!” I shouted over the racket.

“I can’t. Not from here. Slap the button below the red light,” Caroline shouted back.

I banged the button. The siren stopped. The light went out.

“Why haven’t I got one?” I asked accusingly.

About two months ago we had had a real argument about the safety devices built into Caroline’s creations. She hadn’t told me they existed and I was helplessly trapped each time, unable to protest or extricate myself. Her response had been that as the tester I didn’t need them. She was always present and watching – except when she had apparently sealed and glued me inside The Goddess’ womb and left me there for hours convinced that I would be crushed when The Goddess began to give birth.

“You still don’t need one, darling Nick,” Caroline answered. “I’ll be watching you closely every time you test my devices. If you are in trouble I’ll get you out quickly and safely…”

“…but how will you know I’m in trouble? I’m usually trussed up like an oven-ready turkey, gagged, smothered…”

“I’ll know. But if you really want, you can have one of these rings. You’ve seen how it works. No matter how completely you are restrained, you could still move your thumb to the base of your finger. The club’s members regard these rings like L-plates for learner drivers. They think that if you are still wearing one you’re not a full member, just a newbie. I’m slightly worried about that attitude. One of my creations might just malfunction and how would anyone know? But they, and Jerry, seem willing to take the risk. They trust me, perhaps unhealthily. Your suspicion is welcome and useful when you are trying a new creation.”

Caroline hugged me. I put the breakfast tray down carefully before we kissed. We were still too tired to do more.

After breakfast we decided to go out for a walk in the local park followed by a pub lunch. It was Autumn, and the dew was still on the grass of the park. Suddenly Caroline stopped by a bush and looked closely at it.

“What’s so interesting about a bush?” I asked idly.

“Not the bush. The spider, and its web,” she replied.

“It’s a spider’s web. So what?”

“It’s given me an idea for another of my inflatables, Nick.”

“OK. We’re on a day off. I can’t stop you thinking but we’re not working today, are we?”

“No. We’re not. I’ve got to stop reproducing my creations and get back to designing them. We can’t keep up with the demand and while we’re making multiple copies I’m too tired to think.”

“So am I. The company that makes your fabric could make your designs, couldn’t it?”

“Yes, Nick. I’ve been reluctant to approach them because of the sexual nature of my recent work, but they’ve made some of my public art already.”

“OK. Caroline. It can’t do any harm to ask. They don’t have to market them, or even put their name on them. They might say ‘No’, but it if they say ‘Yes’, we could have some more time together and you could have time to design new ones…”

Caroline grabbed me and kissed me hard. I kissed her back. We walked on through the park with an arm wrapped around each other. We sat side by side in the pub, legs touching. After the meal I went to refill our drinks. When I got back to the table Caroline had her notebook out and was sketching spider women. She showed me the last drawing.

“What do you think?”

“Too much spider, not enough woman. Those eight legs are too spiky, the face isn’t feminine, and the body needs larger breasts…”

She grabbed the notebook back and scribbled frantically before showing me a revised version.

“I don’t think so. Those legs? Too angular. I’ll try.”

I drew a woman with four slim legs and four human arms with a spider’s body behind her almost like a bustled dress. I showed it to Caroline and sat back sipping my drink.

She looked at it carefully. She tried another adana escort version with a bigger body than my sketch.

“That might do. You’re right. She needs to be a woman with spider characteristics, not a spider with a few female attributes. Your version would be easier to make too…”

“I’m not just a pretty face,” I retorted.

“You aren’t. Sometimes I forget that you can draw too…”

After the meal we went for a longer walk in the park, hand in hand, talking about anything and everything that wasn’t related to Caroline’s animated devices or my work. It was a pleasant interlude, especially as we knew that we would be back at work tomorrow. That evening we ate a light pasta meal because the pub lunch had been filling. I would have gone home, but Caroline insisted that I stay the night.

In bed Caroline insisted that we strip each other naked. By the time we had removed all our night clothes we were both excited. She wanted me to kiss between her legs. As I did, she scissored me gently before sliding down and impaling herself on my erection. Her breasts bounced around as she rode me. I was holding back, waiting for her to reach a climax, until she grabbed her silk nightdress and covered my face, holding it tight with her hands. I spurted into her, unable to hold back once her scent surrounded my head.

Hours later she rode me again, much more slowly and carefully. My lips sought her erect nipples, kissed, nibbled and sucked until she arched her back in ecstasy. That night had been our best sex for weeks.

I was reluctant to leave her in the morning but I had to work. Her income from her art work was erratic. My salary was constant and in the past sometimes I had to subsidise her until her customers paid up. That was becoming less necessary now that Jerry was a good repeat customer. He paid on time and in full unlike the authorities who ordered her public art works. Like most government bodies they paid months in arrears.

When I returned in the evening, Caroline had two pieces of good news. The company would be pleased to make her erotic creations. They could start from next week if Caroline could send them the specifications and lend them Angela. She had emailed the specifications within minutes.

The second item was a call from Jerry. He had been intending to franchise his sexual encounters club. On Sunday, potential franchisors had visited his club and had tried Caroline’s Partner, The Goddess and The Lamia. They wanted their own. Although detailed negotiations about the franchise arrangements might take weeks, after that there could be orders for up to thirty Partners, and ten each of The Goddess and The Lamia.

Caroline already had outstanding orders that would keep her supplier busy for the next couple of months, so the future orders might come just at the right time. If so, her finances would be secure and she could concentrate on new projects. Angela would also be pleased. She could become Caroline’s full-time software geek.

The three of us had already started and nearly completed a simple project, The Room. The principle was simple. A large box about the size of a normal double bedroom is lined with Caroline’s inflatable material. In the centre is a king-size bed, fixed to the floor. As soon as anyone walks into The Room, the door shuts behind them and the walls begin to inflate, reducing the floor area and pushing the victim towards and on to the bed.

Once on the bed, the walls continue to inflate, spilling over and pushing the victim or victims flat on the satin covered mattress which tilts up at the edges. If there is one victim, he/she is rhythmically massaged to a climax by the bed and the enclosing walls. If there are two victims, they are forced together before the massage starts. After about ten minutes, a time that can be varied by the controls, the inflation retracts and the victims can leave by the further door while The Room resets itself for the next victim(s).

Caroline had erected a small version of The Room in her spare bedroom which only had one door. Please, could I try it for her?

Of course I agreed, as long as I had one of the safety rings. I didn’t want to run the risk of being squashed and suffocated with no way out.

“This is only a first trial version, Nick,” Caroline explained. “The door doesn’t shut by itself. You’ll have to do that. It would shut as the inflation started but might impede the mechanism if left open. Also it’s a single bed that doesn’t tilt. It’s just the normal spare bed. But I have made one change just for you. The walls are made from the same material as my nightdress, slinky and slithery. I think you’ll like it.”

Like it? Caroline’s nightdress gives me an erection just by looking at it slung on a bed. When she smothers me with it I can’t hold back.

I stripped to my boxers and opened the spare room door. It looked bare with the silk-covered bed standing in the empty room. I shut the door behind me. At first nothing seemed to happen. The walls started to bulge. I remembered some comic strips in which the villain traps the hero or heroine in a shrinking room. Perhaps I was in an episode adıyaman escort of ‘Perils of Pauline’?

The floor began to swell under my feet, forcing me towards the bed. I didn’t wait to be pushed and climbed on it, lying on my back. There was a strong scent of Caroline’s favourite perfume as the walls came closer.

The moving walls surrounded the bed and began to tilt downwards towards me. There was an overtone to Caroline’s perfume, something that reminded me of medical smells in a hospital, slightly sweet and sickly. As the inflation continued my legs were covered and lightly pressed to the bed. I felt sleepy. Why?

Silk covered my face. I could still breathe freely. Caroline’s creations all now have the adaptation that allows her victims to continue to breathe even when apparently completely smothered. The medical smell became stronger. I was fighting to stay awake, to assess what I was feeling, so I could report back to Caroline. Once I was totally confined inside a cocoon of silk the wrapping began to massage me, particularly below my waist. Although I was becoming aroused, sleep seemed more important. Was there something wrong with the air supply? There might be. That could be dangerous. I pressed the safety ring, expecting to hear the alarm.

Nothing happened. I heard nothing. Perhaps the alarm’s sound was muffled by the layers of inflated silk covering me? I pressed the ring again, harder this time. Still no reaction. I couldn’t resist the impulse to sleep. My final thought was hope that Caroline would release me from The Room soon.

When I woke my head was resting in Caroline’s lap. Her concerned face was looking down at me. A hand was stroking my hair gently.

“Are you OK, Nick?” she asked.

“I think so. Why did I go to sleep? I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t that tired.”

“I included a small amount of medical gas into the air mixture. It was meant to relax you and to reduce any feelings of anxiety. The amount was too great even though it should have been well below the amount to produce unconsciousness. Next time…”

“Next time? Putting me to sleep is too much! I’m not sure I want to experience The Room again.”

“I need to work out a correct gas amount…”

“And another thing, Caroline! Why didn’t the safety ring work? I pressed it twice before I passed out.”

“Sorry, Nick. It should have. Its battery was flat. I should have checked that too. It works now.”

Of course there was a next time, several next times, that I experienced The Room. Caroline repaid me with more sessions of sex with herself instead of sexual experiences inside her creations. I shouldn’t complain. Most times I enjoy pretending to be her victim, controlled by her inflatable sex toys. But sex with the real Caroline is special.


A few months later the full size version of The Room had been installed at Jerry’s club. His licensees were beginning to open similar clubs, equipped with some of Caroline’s creations, and more were being manufactured.

Caroline and Jerry were excited by the prospect of her next creation. This one would be so large and so mobile that there was no way it could be tested at Caroline’s place. Jerry was making modifications to his club building to accept it.

Caroline and Jerry had liked the impact of The Lamia. Now there would be a Spider-Woman based on our early sketches. The Spider-Woman had four slender elegant nylon clad legs, four slim arms, and two large breasts. But she could move, and fast!

The idea was to build a spider’s lair into Jerry’s club. His idea was to convert the access to the toilets. The club members would enter the toilets through a one-way door. After leaving the toilet, the only way back into the main club would be through the Spider’s Lair, and the Spider-Woman would be waiting to pounce! Of course there would a separate fire-exit from the toilets which was alarmed, and safety devices, but anyone who needed the toilet would be at risk of capture by the Spider-Woman. The amount of risk could be pre-programmed. One in ten might be caught, one in three, or, rarely, even all those entering the lair would become the Spider-Woman’s prey.

The Spider-Woman’s basic action was to grab the victim in her arms, wrap them round and round in layers of silk netting until they were completely mummified, and then dispose of them. A random choice of disposal featured attaching them to the spider’s webs that lined her lair, taking them into an inner area and hanging them on a rack, just lying them on the floor to which their wrapping would stick, or, for just one victim at a time, pushing their wrapped body into a sac inside the spider’s body at her back, to be carried around as she trapped other victims.

If the victim was wearing and operated the safety ring, the Spider-Woman would carry them to the far door and unwrap them. If the victim was not wearing a safety ring or didn’t use it, they would stay as a helpless prisoner until the club’s manager selected the universal release. The victims would be released with those confined longest set free first. But the victim might be confined for minutes or hours, or even until the club closed for the night. The manager could release one or two at a time, specifying which, or all. If a club member was too drunk, or obnoxious, or just a nuisance, the Spider-Woman’s trap could keep him out of trouble for hours. Jerry could see considerable advantages to that feature.

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