Hothouse

The amount that she had perspired surprised her. It also turned her on. There was something about hanging naked AND SWEATY that seemed so primitive... so primal... so fuckable. Had she hung there another hour, the feel of the sweat trickling down her back and dripping off her buttocks and down her front and going between her legs to drip off her cunt lips probably would have taken her to orgasm even without the vibrator.

"That was good," she said aloud as she cleaned her restraints. "But I can do better."

The first step in doing better was a higher priced, computer controlled dildo. It wasn't cheap and she had to wait until she had sold another couple of stories, but her new toy connected into the system as an auxiliary device and could be controlled by the programming just like the winches or windows or anything else. She could control the intensity and frequency of both the vibration and the movement of the long, pink, penis-shaped device.

The first weekend that she used it, she experienced seven screaming, vibrating, quaking orgasms in the three and half hours she was suspended. She had determined through trial and error, that three and a half was about the maximum she could stand comfortably. She knew she could go much longer than that without injury, but it got uncomfortable as she approached four hours, and she was doing this for pleasure, not pain.

After several more weekends with her new vibrator, Stacy made two decisions. One was that once she was up and sweaty and turned on, she could easily go four or maybe five or even six hours. She upped the time to four hours. The second decision was to take things to the next step by increasing the sweat. "I'm becoming a regular little sweat hog..., or sweat slut," she giggled to herself. "And I guess," she told herself firmly, "to turn up the heat in the sweat slut, we have to turn up the heat in the hothouse."

After a satisfying Sunday session that still left something lacking, she began examining her options. There were four electric radiant heaters mounted just beneath the ceiling and three more mounted at floor level on the outside wall of the hothouse. They could be turned on manually with a switch that said, "Freeze Test / Heater Manual On." The heaters themselves had tags that said they used 1200 watts each. A quick check on the internet told her that each of them used 10 amps, so they were using 60 amps total. The box with a lever on it that the realtor had called the "sub-main breaker and emergency power transfer for the hot house" was labeled 150 amps. So Stacy had 90 amps to work with. Her old house had been rather cold and drafty so she already had three electric space heaters. A check of their labels showed that two of them were 2400 watts and one was 1200 watts. That was only fifty amps total. She bought three more of the smaller heaters so that she was using up 80 of the 90 amps available. Each of the plugs in the hothouse was on a separate breaker, which meant that she could plug all six of her heaters in, trigger the built-in heaters, and make the green house into a true hot house for her sweat-soaked suspension session.

"If I am going to be sweating that much," she thought, "I had better have a source of liquid." She had a backpack water system that held a half-gallon of liquid in a bladder with a tube that came over your shoulder so you could drink from it while you pedaled a bicycle on a long trip in hot weather. She decided to fill that bag with a sports drink and hang it above her so that she could reach it as she was suspended. She even did a quick test holding the gloves as she had done on that first day just to make sure that she could, indeed, reach the tube.

Next Saturday morning seemed forever away, and Stacy was tempted to break routine and do a session mid-week, but she knew that she had to stick to her writing routine. So instead, she had to content herself with going out into the hot house in the evening, lying on the floor, and masturbating while looking up at the rig that would hold her sweating in the sun come the weekend.

Saturday morning finally arrived. Stacy carefully laid out all of her equipment. She decided that for this first full-sweat session, she would remain un-blindfolded. The blindfold increased her concentration on her other senses and added to her enjoyment, but she wasn't sure what would happen if the sweat became trapped behind the blindfold and was forced into her eyes. She decided to do a four hour session beginning at 10:00 am to take advantage of the noon-day sun.

At 9:45 she was already strapped into the restraint boots and gloves. The heaters were on manual override and the six extra heaters were set to full on. The computer controlled vibrator was firmly pressed into her cunt, but had not yet been triggered on by the control program. By ten o'clock when the winch motors came to life, liquid was already trickling down the inside of her thighs and it wasn't sweat.

The full-sweat session was everything Stacy dreamed it would be. She had already experienced three marvelous orgasms before noon and was looking forward to even more as the afternoon sun rose high over the clear portion of the hot house..., and then it happened.

The Thompson Greenhouse System was truly fail-safe, but keep in mind that the Titanic was unsinkable, the Hindenburg was fireproof, and the space shuttles had triple redundancy systems. Nothing is absolutely fail safe. There is always something that the design engineers forgot to consider.

What the designers at the Thompson Greenhouse Company did not take into account was someone intentionally plugging six additional heaters into the wall outlets in the summertime to bring the temperature in the greenhouse up to sauna levels. None of the heaters was overloading the circuit it was on and combined they were not overloading the main. But they were taking the temperature to extreme levels in the hothouse... levels that would damage sensitive plants. And Stacy had forgotten to shut off the air conditioner which was programmed to kick in if the temperature in the hot house stayed above ninety-six degrees for more than a half-hour.

Almost as soon as Stacy heard the noise of the air conditioner starting up, she heard a very loud "Thunk!" and everything went very quiet. As her ears adjusted to the quiet, she could hear the buzzing of the battery backup and the sound of the generator starting in the back yard. "It's going to be OK," she thought. "Everything will be OK. Worse come to worse it will let me back down to the ground." She continued to think that until 1:00 o'clock came and went and nothing moved. The heaters were off. The lights on the front of the control panel were off. Everything was off except the display panel of the control computer itself.

"No!" Stacy yelled aloud when she realized what had happened. She had assumed that the sub-main breaker would automatically reset like the breakers in the control panel, but she had never opened the cover to look. It must be a standard breaker. And the transfer switch must be before the sub-main breaker. The computer thought the backup generator was online so it didn't lower her using battery backup, but none of the emergency generator power was reaching the control panel. There was no power to activate the winches. Stacy was totally and absolutely stuck!!!

She started crying softly and looked out at the generator running uselessly in the back yard. "Wait a minute!" she yelped. She shouldn't be able to see the generator shed. The walls were transparent! It must take power to make the walls translucent. With all power gone, they were now clear as glass. Stacy was hanging hot, sweaty, and fully exposed to anyone who could see her greenhouse from their back windows. And there was nothing she could do to free herself.

Her mind began to race. Why had she put her trust in that supposedly fail-safe system and not arranged for an emergency backup to check on her after a certain period of time? Who would miss her? ... and when? She didn't have any hard deadlines for almost two weeks. People were used to her ignoring her phones and texts for days at a time when she was trying to get a story done. It could be weeks before they found her rotting corpse hanging in the sun.

Stacy began to cry deep heart-wrenching sobs of absolute despair. And then in the midst of her sobs, she heard a noise that she couldn't quite identify. It was a low rumbling noise like a small train was running through the garage. The garage! She was hearing the garage door opening. Someone was coming into the house.

Her joy of rescue was rapidly replaced by the mortification of being found hanging naked in the air with an electronic dildo stuffed in her twat. "Oh God," she thought and then said aloud, "What if it's my mother paying a surprise visit?"

Then she heard a voice.

"Elizabeth?" it called out. Elizabeth was the name of the previous owner.

"Is something wrong?"

The voice was coming closer. Stacy wasn't sure whether to keep quiet or cry out when suddenly the door from the house opened and a rather startled voice said, "You're not Elizabeth!"

"Uh..., no...., I'm the new owner, Stacy." she stammered.

The woman's face broke into a huge smile as she said, "I love what you've done with the place. I always thought this room had such interesting potential, but you've gone way beyond even my wicked and warped imagination."

She walked over to stand directly in front of Stacy. Stacy was all to aware that this put the woman's eyes right at the level of her naked cunt. "I suppose I should introduce myself," she said calmly. "My name is Terri Long. I live in the house directly behind you. I've been Bethie's 'vacation safety' for years and years."

She walked over and stood in front of the control panel. "Whenever one of these alarms goes off, it sends me a text message and an email. I ignored the Freeze alarm that said the heaters had come on because it is summer. But then I heard the generator go on and I didn't get a power failure warning. When it didn't shut back off after a while, I figured something really bad might have happened, so I came right over. Everything was locked up and my key didn't work. I was hoping the garage door code hadn't been changed and there was power to open the door. I punched in the code and it opened. And here I am."

She looked at the extra heaters plugged in around the room and then came back and stood in front of Stacy. "I assume you were trying for sweat box bondage?"

Stacy nodded and said, "Something like that."

"All the heaters on separate circuits. Water - or probably a sports drink - to keep you hydrated. Properly designed suspension restraints." She shook her head as she laughed lightly. "You thought of everything." The her voice suddenly became stern, "But you forgot about the air conditioners, didn't you?"

Stacy nodded again. "Yeah. When they came on the big lever popped and it doesn't reset itself like the rest of the system."

Terri walked back over to the control panel, reached up, and pushed the lever back in place. She then entered a couple of quick commands at the control panel. "I've shut down the AC," she said. "I also set the default on the windows to zero and extended your stay until 5:00 o'clock."

Stacy said, "But... but... but..."

Terri didn't seem to hear her or at least didn't respond to her. Instead she continued, "I am going to go back home and slip into something comfortable. Then I am going to sit on my back deck drinking mojitos and watching you sweat and squirm and get yourself off. At five, I am coming back over here so you can show me just how grateful you are that I have rescued you. You will keep showing your gratitude until we are a tangle of sweaty arms and legs intertwined on your beautiful new carpet.

Stacy just swallowed hard and opened her eyes wide to stare at the woman standing before her.

"And then," Terri continued, "we are going to talk about what kind of wonderful neighborly relationship we are going to have together in the future." She walked right up to Stacy and softly petted her clit with two fingers. "I think you would much more prefer to be in the submissive role in that relationship, wouldn't you?"

Stacy moaned in response.

"And I have always wanted a willing pet I could play with regularly." She then started slowly running her fingers in tight circles around Stacy's clit.

Stacy started saying - or more accurately moaning - "No. No, that's not what I want."

"That's your mind talking," answered Terri. "I really think we need to give your body a vote on this." She continued circling Stacy's clit, applying a little more pressure and swirling Stacy's erect knob back and forth with each circuit.

"If you would like to be my submissive plaything hanging all hot and sweaty in the sun for me to play with and for everyone to look at," said Terri softly. "Then cum.... NOW!"

Stacy thrashed and flailed in her bonds as a tremendous orgasm exploded within her. She was throwing her cunt forward so hard that she nearly expelled the dildo with the thrusts of her muscles. Her cries of "Ahhhh, ahhhh, ahhhh," became farther apart and quieter until finally she hung slack in her restraints. Rivers of sweat poured off her body, mixing with the cunt juices draining down the inside of her legs.

"See you at five," said Terri merrily as she walked back into the house. "I'll bring a pitcher or two of mojitos. It could be a looooooooong evening."

Shortly after she left, Stacy once again started to cry out and thrash wildly as she envisioned herself as she now was, hanging naked and sweaty..., and at the mercy of her new Mistress.

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END OF STORY

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