A Wardrobe Predicament

“Damn!”

Marie rummaged frantically through her drawer, searching for her clothes.

“Crap. I really need to do more laundry!”

The laundry situation had reached a crisis point, and she seemed to be out of underwear for good this time. To cap it off, only knee-length skirts lined her wardrobe, and the winter chills were beginning to arrive.

Glancing briefly at the clock, she realized she would be late. Quickly she grabbed a pleated kilt and a white turtleneck, zipping up a pair of knee-high leather boots that she normally saved for evenings out.

Fearing for her job if she did not arrive on time, she grabbed her briefcase and bolted. On her way out the door she caught a look at herself in the mirror.

“Oh no! I can’t go out like this!”

Marie’s nipples, erect in the chilly hallway, stood plainly visible through the white garment. Running back to her wardrobe, she threw on a woolen vest and ran to the train station as quickly as her high-heeled boots would allow.

The train was just entering the station as she got to the turnstiles. With her overcoat still on her arm, she fumbled through the gate and ran to the packed train, the morning air making her extremely conscious of her nakedness beneath the skirt. The bell announcing the closing doors sent her into a panic, and she ignored her fear of exposure as she sprinted toward the nearest car.

Marie watched in horror as the two door panels began to slide together just a few steps away from her. She barely had time to slow herself, and she hit the doors as they were only a couple inches apart.

Her frustrated wail turned to a gasp of horror as she realized that her skirt was caught quite firmly in the doorway. The bouncy pleats had swung between the panels when she hit them, and now she was unable to pull them free. She began to scream as she tugged on the kilt, trying to wrench it free before the train dragged her half a mile to the next station.

A thousand frantic plans zipped through her head. She could hang onto the side of the train and hope she survived. She could take the skirt off and hope nobody was watching long enough for her to put on her overcoat. She could fumble for the scissors she kept in her briefcase and cut herself free.

A second bell sounded, and tears flowed from her eyes as she reached for her skirt’s belt to take it off. She had pulled the leather tongue from the buckle when the doors opened again, revealing dozens of concerned and interested commuters.

Mortified, Marie slipped the belt back together, picked up her briefcase and overcoat, and stepped inside the train. She quickly turned her beet-red face to the wall, looking out the window at the scenery and trying to avoid the stares of her fellow passengers.

“Hey toots, you’re looking awfully smart today!” Angelica, Marie’s cubicle- mate and only real friend at work, greeted Marie as she collapsed into her chair. “Going someplace nice tonight? What’s his name?”

Marie grinned weakly and turned on her computer, ignoring her co-worker’s inquiries.

“What’s this, a spill?” Angelica rubbed at Marie’s knee, trying to brush the black marks from the train door off. “Oh, don’t worry, I’ve got just

the thing for soot and grime!”

Marie looked over to see her friend pulling some sort of packet from her handbag. She blinked, and watched Angelica open it and pull out a long rubber condom, shaking it to its fullest length before slipping it over her fingers. Smiling lustfully, she reached down between Marie’s knees.

“Uh, what… w-what are you doing?”

“Oh, don’t you worry, girl! It says on the label it’s safe on wool!”

Marie blinked again, rubbed her eyes, and saw now that her friend had opened a cleaning wipe, and the chemical-soaked paper was wrapped around her hand. Angelica reached down without a word and began to scrub the kilt vigorously, making Marie’s thighs shake from the effort. Marie felt the vibrations in her exposed privates, and jumped visibly when Angelica slid her other hand under the skirt to make it easier to clean.

“There you go, darling, good as new!” Angelica shook the pleats out quickly, and Marie felt the draft on her exposed labia again.

“Ah… Thank you, Angie. I wouldn’t have noticed that if you hadn’t pointed it out. I’ve got to go to another meeting, and I don’t think I could have done very well if I had a stain.”

“Nonsense, sweetie! You just need to be more confident! You’re probably the best this company has, and you’re knock-out gorgeous to boot. I envy you, you know?”

“Thanks, but I know you’re just saying tha–”

“Oh buck up, kid! You know you just need to be more assertive! You’re a wonderful gal, and you just lack a little confidence. Speaking of, how’d those confidence seminars go?”

“Eh, pretty well, I suppose. They’re not particularly memorable. I did a few basic things, you know, insisting on little details at the bank and haggling prices at the fruit market. I’m not sure it’s such an impressive program.”

“Well you just keep it up, now. I think you need all the confidence you can get!”

Just then, Angelica’s phone rang, and Marie took that opportunity to settle in. She hung her overcoat on the cubicle hook, and sat down once before remembering to straighten her skirt. The cold vinyl of the seat sent a chill up her spine, and she froze for a moment before timidly reaching down and brushing the woolen fabric beneath her.

Weary, she picked up her briefcase and set it on the desk, flipping the latches and slowly lifting the lid. To her shock, it was full of panties – her panties. At the front was a card, lettered in a bold calligraphic hand, which read: “What better place to keep your briefs?”

“You ready for the department meeting, Marie?” A man’s voice bellowed from behind the cubicle wall.

Marie started, and slammed the briefcase shut in a panic. Her hands were shaking, but they quickly threw the latches and spun the combination dials just as Joe’s head popped gopher-like over the wall.

“Oh! Hahaha… Yeah, yeah sure. It’s in five minutes, right?” Marie heaved a heavy nervous sigh as she tried to calm herself down.

“Yeah, third floor conference room. Say, you’re not worried about this one, are you? Is there something I should know?”

“No, no Joe. It’s not work-related. I had a rough commute, and I guess it gave me a touch of nerves.”

“All right, but I hope there’s nothing you’re not telling me.” Joe’s voice was jocular, but firm. He could just as easily have been comforting her as giving her orders.

“No, it’s really nothing.”

“Okay, let’s go!”

The meeting was one that she had been dreading all week. It was one of those status-report meetings that ultimately determined budgets, project approvals, and in the end personnel. It was the sort of meeting that could cost you your job, if you didn’t impress the higher-ups enough.

She sat through the whole event, distracted, thinking about what was in her briefcase and the cold air she could feel against her crotch. She felt vulnerable and small, like someone else was running her life. She kept looking around the room, wondering if any of them knew, if any of them could see her shirt beneath the vest, if any of them could smell her unclothed snatch.

When the meeting broke for lunch, she sped to her cubicle. She arrived only to find her desk bare. Her briefcase was nowhere to be seen.

“Hey, where’s my briefcase?”

Angelica stepped into the cubicle, stirring a steaming cup of tea that she had just made. “Oh, the tech guy was here to fix my computer, and needed the space to set up his kit. It’s under your coat.”

Marie grabbed it and ran to the women’s restroom, diving into a toilet stall and popping it open as quickly as her nervous fingers would allow. The underwear was still there, and she heaved a heavy sigh of relief. Reaching in she pulled out her favorite satin pair, only to realize that the crotch had been cut out of it.

Horrified, she pulled out another, only to see that it had been given the same treatment. Every single pair of briefs she owned had a big hole in the crotch, and some even had holes at the cheeks. Sobbing quietly, she reached the bottom of the pile, and found a nicely wrapped gift box with a card tied to the ribbon.

She tore the card off and opened it. In the same bold yet elegant calligraphy, it said:

My dearest Marie,

It was with regret that I learned of your little wardrobe problem. In an effort to help you out, I decided to get you a little gift early this year. Wear them in good health.

The card was unsigned.

Marie tore open the metallic silver wrapping paper to reveal a leather folder. Undoing the clasp, the folder opened to reveal a pair of panties and a brassiere. Both were made of a glossy black material that quivered in her shaky grasp. Marie realized with a combination of revulsion and fascination that they were made of black latex rubber.

Not Feeling Herself

Marie touched the strange fabric with her index finger and hesitated. Thinking of her exposed private parts at the train station facilitated things. Allowing other people a glimpse of black underwear definitely was an improvement over the full peep show she risked earlier. She stuck her legs through the holes of the panties without taking off her boots. One heel nearly poked a hole into the latex, but she was eventually able to pull them up her naked legs intact.

The panties were quite high cut and Marie saw that her pubic hair would protrude at the sides. She made a note to herself to trim it and epilate tonight in the bath tub. Only when she had pulled it all the way up did she realize that something was pressing against her clit. She reached in and discovered a set of nubs strategically posed to touch her at very exciting places.

Marie started wondering about the unknown sender. How could he have imagined that she would dare to put these on? Her first reaction was indignation. What a chauvinist pig! But then she had to admit the advantages, the stimulation. After all, the meeting was over and perhaps she deserved a little distraction from her work this afternoon.

She shivered. The near-touch from Angelica this morning had already built up a pang of longing need. She examined carefully if the nubs could not be detected from the outside and then decided on a compromise. Panties yes, bra no. Not the bra, definitely not. Her tits were nice and firm and small - b-size at the most - and she could do without. If her nipples protruded a bit through the turtleneck - so what? Perhaps it would attract the right sort of attention from men finally, and help her find her Mr. Right.

A short moment of vertigo made her sit again. When it had passed she packed her destroyed panties– she marvelled at how little she cared– and left the stall. “Better hurry back”, she thought when she caught her reflection in the mirror.

She quickly let out a little shriek she could not hold back. Her bust had obviously grown, and what was worse a black bra shone clearly through the white sweater. Her hands flew against her tits and she felt nubs teasing in a circle right around her nipples.

“How is this possible? I decided not to wear it!” She thought of returning into the stall but saw by her wristwatch that half an hour had already passed. She threw the package with the destroyed panties into the trash can, crossed her arms in front of her chest and returned to the cubicle.

Angelica gave her a cheerful look. “Feeling better, sweetie?” She quickly stopped, looking worried. “What’s wrong with you? You look so pale! You didn’t catch a fever, did you?” Angelica felt Marie’s forehead and wiped the sweat from it, like a mother tending to a sick child.

“Please don’t mention my breasts”, Marie thought, as her friend tended to be rather direct. But Angelica was easily sent off to get her a glass of water. Quickly Marie wrapped herself in her overcoat and buckled it tightly, which made the coat’s fabric rub her teased nipples.

“Oh my, are you cold?” Out of nowhere, Joe suddenly stood over her. He was tall enough to look over the walls of the cubicles, and he gave her a queer look from the other side. “You want me to have the heating turned up a notch?”

Marie nodded, for once short of words. Why did his voice make the nubs in her bra and panties stir? The cards must be from him, she suddenly decided. And wasn’t that white shirt of his clearly made of latex? She blinked her eyes and the glistening sheen of his clothing quickly vanished. She realized that she had not been listening to him.

“..nerves to walk into that meeting without stockings, boots like a hooker… You were lucky as your presentation was appreciated but if you want to cling to this job..” To be laid off would not be a good idea as Auntie Paula had left her that house of hers in a rather bad state and the mortgage for the new roof was far from paid back. With a few “Yes, Sir, and No Sir, and Thank you Sir” she finally got rid of Joe.

When he finally turned his back to her she wondered if his slim waist was not perhaps owed to a corset. A corset? She had not thought of such things since those wild days in Vienna. She clung her arms even tighter around herself and imagined having her waist in an hourglass shape once again. More than seven years not a thought of that and now, like dejá vu, it filled her mind.

Marie now was clearly excited and horny. She knew how nicely she would masturbate tonight and sighed involuntarily. That resulted in another worried look from Angelica. Her friend bent down and gave her a huge hug.

“Come on, dear, he has days like that. I’m sure it will be O.K.” But instead of soothing her the hug stimulated Marie as the nubs pressed harder against her tits, causing her to shudder in Angelica’s arms. How did this strange bra come to cover her flesh anyway, Marie wondered to herself, and was it really Joe who prepared all this? Or Angelica? Did it have to be a male who tampered with her briefcase and sent her the package and the cards? Wasn’t Angelica the one friend she had entrusted with a key to her old little house?

Another attack of vertigo hit her, and she wondered if the bra had suddenly shrunk down a size. “I really feel bad now, Angie. Maybe I should go home. Will you tell Joe and excuse me?”

“Perhaps I should come home with you, Marie, to make sure you don’t have any trouble on the way?”

The Dreams Begin

The house was pitch black when the two women arrived. Marie sighed with relief and turned the entryway lights up to a dim glow, hoping Angelica wouldn’t notice the black outline of the rubber bra through her white top.

Angelica took Marie’s overcoat from her, almost submissively, and hung it in the closet. Marie stepped toward the entrance to the living room, fumbling for the dial that turned the electric chandelier on.

“Listen, Maria…” Angelica stuttered. Marie turned around, dread filling her at what Angie was going to say. She must have seen right through her all day, and was just now getting up the courage to scold her. Marie’s hands grew cold with fear.

“Maria, I have a confession to make…” Angelica’s eyes never left the floor, lingering on Marie’s polished leather toes. “I… I lost the key you gave me.”

Marie gasped in horror. Was that the glint of steel she saw coming from the blackness of the living room? Was someone behind the couch?

Angelica continued, “I know you trusted me with it, and I should have told you sooner so that you could get your locks changed, but…”

Marie’s voice faltered as she asked, “H-how.. How long ago?”

“Three months–Oh Maria I’m so sorry! Please forgive me! I never meant for you to come to any harm, and I’ll pay for the new locks. Here, I know a good locksmith.” Angelica held out a card, written in a firm calligraphic hand.

The apologies were cut short. A black figure leapt from the shadows, and it was five full seconds before Angelica found the breath to scream. The figure pounced on Marie, tearing open her blouse and skirt with his wicked curved knife, revealing the rubber underthings.

Marie let out a shriek and sat bolt-upright in bed. Panting heavily, she looked all over her room. Her turtleneck and skirt were folded over a chair, intact, and her boots lay unzipped on the floor. Gasping out a sigh of relief, Marie dropped back onto her pillow and massaged her eyes.

Try as she might, she could not bring herself to sleep again after that dream. Pulling on a dressing gown, she began to wander the house turning the lights on. Neurotically, she checked every cupboard and closet, making sure the phone still worked and her keys still turned all the locks. Satisfied, she walked to the bathroom and turned on the shower.

Shrugging the robe off, she caught a glimpse of herself in the slowly-fogging mirror. Glossy black covered her mound and the bottom of her breasts, with gleaming straps hanging onto her shoulders. Timid and confused, she reached up to touch the slick underwear.

How could she have left them on, even when going to bed? Had she been so tired that she didn’t bother to take them off? No, she thought, the hairs on her mound were gone.

Marie slipped a hand beneath the waistline of the black briefs, feeling her smooth pussy. Not only had she shaved and depilated herself, but she had put a soothing lubricant on. The ticklers at her clit moved smoothly and sensuously through the cool thick medium, and Marie realized that she was as aroused as she was frightened.

Looking up, she saw that the mirror was completely fogged over. Drawing the curtain back, she stepped into the shower and began to massage her scalp. She worked a glob of shampoo into it, and began to lather.

The warm water felt so good against her tired muscles, and the tears and sweat of the day’s ordeal were washed away with the hot rain. Rinsing her short red hair well, she grabbed the conditioner and squeezed a healthy dollop of it onto her head, working it in deep.

The conditioner was slick and smooth, and had a strange smell to her. She traced it down her face and sniffed her hand, surrounded by the hot steam. Looking down at the bottle, she saw that it was not hair conditioner at all, but rather a latex-safe lubricant.

The confusion and anxiety quickly returned. Looking down, Marie realized that she had again neglected to remove the rubber undergarments. Pushing her hand into the bra, she worked the smooth lube over her rock-hard nipples. Soon all thoughts of cleaning left her, and she began to touch herself in earnest, spreading the gooey lube all over her body.

Her fear and arousal reached a fever pitch, her skin feeling hot even in the warm water. Her hands groped and tweaked and rubbed her erogenous zones. She had kept the teasing latex on for over fourteen hours now, and her need for release was now much greater than her need for answers.

Kneeling in the cast-iron tub, she arched her head back and shoved both hands into her panties. The passion within her boiled, even as the hot water for the shower dwindled. A cold sprinkle pelted her legs and belly as she brought herself to a crashing orgasm, her head thudding gently against the rim of the tub as she convulsed with release.

She saw herself, chained to a post in a marble courtyard by a heavy chrome chain around her neck. The rain bounced from her taut flesh as she brought herself off, and dozens of nobles applauded from a covered walkway as she put on her show for them. In their midst was a large sedan chair, and their liege sat within it. Marie squinted to see who it was, but could not make out much more than the occasional gleam of shifting rubber.

Opening her eyes, Marie quickly cleaned herself off and shut off the tap. The exercise had made her tired again, and she walked back to the bedroom as she dripped into her towel. Rolling back into bed, she realized with alarm and exhausted resignation that she was still wearing the panties and bra.

Melting back into the covers, she glanced over to the clock to confirm that she had been in the shower for two hours. But what caught her eye was the small card, lettered in a firm calligraphic hand.

Call in sick–you deserve it! Take the day off. Also, there is a package waiting for you.

Marie grabbed the card and turned it over, revealing an address:

Scold’s Locksmiths

Protectors of privacy and property for over 500 years.

7b Merrywidow Lane

It was the card that Angelica had presented in her dream.

Scold’s Locksmiths

Waking early the next morning, Marie mused over her dreams the night before. The images and emotions seemed as real to her as they had been while she dreamt them. Stirring in her black satin sheets, she realized that she was hopelessly tangled.

“Did I tuck myself in so tightly as this?” she mused, working her way out of the snug wrapping with great effort, “It’s like a cocoon…and I guess that would make me a butterfly!” Marie finally worked her thighs out of the worst of it, and stood up, stretching before her closet mirror.

“Oh no, a black butterfly…” Marie’s heart quickened as she realized she still wore the black rubber underwear, and nothing else. “No wonder I was so tangled in it! I didn’t even put on a nightgown! What is wrong with me lately?”

Marie sighed and looked down at her dresser, forgetting her attire once again as she spotted the locksmith’s card. Had Angelica really given it to her, or was that just part of the dream? Marie picked up the card and ran her hands over the fine calligraphy. Marie had never been to a locksmith before, as she always had her keys made at the hardware store.

Feeling nervous and more than a little frightened about the whole thing, Marie picked up the phone to ask Angie if she knew anything about it. She dressed quickly while it rang, and was idly tying her blouse closed when Angelica’s answering machine kicked in. She left a quick hello and hung up.

“Well, I suppose I ought to just check out the place, and see if there are any answers.” Marie sighed and threw on an overcoat, stepping out the door.

In the subway station, Marie realized she was getting a lot of long stares. Looking down, she saw that she had not chosen her wardrobe very wisely. Beneath the open overcoat she wore her old red and green checkered school girl mini-skirt, which had been barely decent when her legs were still a few inches shorter. Stacked-heel mary-janes accented shiny black stockings that ended just at the hem of her skirt, and she could feel the garter belt’s straps beneath the skirt as she instinctively covered her thighs with her hands.

Finally, she saw that she had put on an old faded white blouse with gold buttons, which might have been all right if she hadn’t popped off the top two buttons and tied the bottom ends into a knot above her pierced navel. She saw the glint of the silver ring in a window reflection, and that made her further aware of the black outline of her rubber brassiere.

“Whore!” spat out a smartly-dressed old lady across the aisle. She had muttered it only faintly, but Marie caught her gaze long enough to realize that the old hag was sizing her up and down.

“Miss Applebee!” Marie gasped, recognizing the governess and manners instructor from her old boarding school. She was a stickler for posture and presentation, and Marie noticed for the first time that her perfectly straight back looked to be the product of some very strict stays.

The scowl on Applebee’s face softened slightly as she squinted to make out the face on the exhibitionist tart she had just insulted. Marie saw her stop approaching, and huddled in her coat as she turned away from the old woman. Memories of posture exercises and figure training and dietary plans surfaced with a shudder.

“Maria! What’s become of you?” the question followed Marie out of the train just as the doors slammed shut. Marie felt her face burn, knowing her ears and cheeks were bright red. Flushed… like an orgasm, she thought. And yes, her loins were responding to the humiliation, making her begin to crave another orgasm. She turned quickly to look at the seat where Applebee sat, and saw only an old lady knitting yarn quietly in a rapidly departing train.

Casting her eyes down, Marie tried to make sense of the vision as she walked to Merrywidow Lane. It was an old alleyway, built before trains and automobiles had entered the city. It still had cobblestones in the road, and many of the buildings facing it were made of brick and dirty stone. A single clover-leaf shaped key pointed the way down into the basement of building 7, leading to Scold’s Locksmiths.

Scold was old-fashioned as well, but in a different way from Miss Applebee. A bushy white moustache made a good effort to compensate for his balding head, and it hid the corners of his ironic smile. He was tall and had muscular arms with bare pits. He wore a dark green shirt, with a dark brown leather apron hanging over his chest and belly, reaching down to his knees.

Marie shut the wooden-framed glass door, making a keychain hanging from its knob clink with an ominous steel sound.

“Yes my dear, and how can I help you?” Scold asked, seemingly taking no notice of Marie’s outfit.

“Er… Yes, um, I was given this card, and…”

“–ah yes, and you wish to collect your package. Of course, Marie. One moment, please.” He reached into a bottom drawer and pulled out an elegant flat gift box, the sort that would hold a fine jeweled necklace. He set it on the countertop, and Marie realized that it had her name set into the lid in bronze. Marie balked.

“You’ll find that we personalize everything here, but rest assured that customer records are kept in the utmost confidence. Your tastes are exquisite, my dear, but we shall not disclose them to anyone.” He ran his hand over the lid gently as he spoke, and when he finished he set his mouth in a knowing smile that did not falter.

“Ah.. Er, have we met?” Marie was searching. She had come seeking answers, but more questions kept presenting themselves.

“No madam, I assure you.” Did he just say madam with a hint of sarcasm? “I received a photograph with this order so that I could be sure to deliver to the correct customer. I must say you make a fine model, Marie. Your clothing was daring, yet exhilarating, and your pose was something I’d wager you’ll never see most supermodels try!”

Marie swallowed. She saw in his eyes that he meant it. She tried to think of when she ever posed for a sexy photo, or how her image could have reached this gentle brute of a locksmith.

“Who gave you this photo?” Marie tried to hide her fear in a tone of indignant anger.

“My dear, as I have already explained, our customer records are kept in strict confidence. The order permitted me to let you know of the photo’s existence, but all other information about it is kept locked in a safe that not even a master locksmith could open without the appropriate key. The only thing I will give you is this. Please, follow me.”

Mr. Scold led Marie into a back part of the shop, opening a heavy black velvet curtain and revealing a rack along one wall with a collection of silver, grey and black metal items. The function of most escaped Marie, but she was certain she recognized several pairs of handcuffs, and the chains were plain enough.

Scold ushered her to a seat in front of a small magnifying mirror and set the box before her.

“Now I want to explain this item to you before you try it on.” Scold said as Marie’s trembling fingers fumbled with the clasp. A wonderful rounded matte silver necklace lay on red velvet. The inside lined with black fur, less than half an inch high. It was forged out of two halves, hinged together at the front, the open ends hollow on the left and equipped with a pin on the right side.

Marie tried the hinge between her hands and the pin slid smoothly into the hole with ease. She moved it in and out a few more times thinking of the last time she had had smooth sex and felt the rubber fingers against her clitoris as she squirmed on her stool.

She held it to her throat, and was just about to bring the ends together when she felt Mr. Scold’s heavy hand on the back of her neck.

“Think carefully, my pretty girl, if you really want to do this. The pin from the clasp is made of a very special material, and it will swell when it approaches human body temperature. The other end of the clasp has a series of ringed crevices in the catch, which the pin will swell into. Your own warmth will seal it onto you, until it becomes cold again!”

Marie shivered at the thought of her own chilly death unlocking the clasp, and tested the fit of the choker one half at a time. It fit perfectly, like it was made for her and her alone. She wondered at how Scold had acquired her measurements, especially given her unusually long and thin neck. She knew better than to ask, though, knowing she’d receive another lecture on customer privacy.

“Also, I would draw your attention to the engraved letters on the front of the piece.” Marie was spellbound by the collar, looking closely in the mirror. Letters? What letters? She felt around it, and thought she could feel an A over the hinge in the front center, but could only make it out if she looked closely.

Marie sat bolt upright in bed again, moaning as she realized she was still wearing the black latex briefs and bra, the teasing rubber ticklers turning her moan into a slightly different variety. She gasped as she saw the collar sealed firmly about her graceful throat. She rushed to the mirror to get a look at her new permanent jewelry. Now, in the dim light, she could see the letters more clearly. Left of the A there were a S and an L, right of it followed an V and an E.

A Clever Form of Resistance

Marie was stunned when she finally put the five letters together. “Who would dare do this to me?” she wondered in horror. Fussing in the mirror, she consoled herself with the observation that the letters were only visible when one was looking really close. Marie also remembered that she still had two or three nice silk scarves that would hide it perfectly.

With a little edge – like the feeling you have when a new but welcome acquaintance decides to leave your party early – Marie quickly took off the rubber underwear and instantly missed the nubs pressing against her tits and crotch. She washed and went to bed naked – feeling strangely naughty despite her previous bedtime attire– and wrapped herself into her black satin bed sheets. She fell sound asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.

In her dreams, she was naked in the courtyard again, chained to an iron ring in the center square. She felt the heavy steel links trail from the collar she knew that she herself had locked on. Looking up at the nobles before her, she swooned at their derisive glares and snide catcalls. In the center of the crowd sat their liege, again hidden in the shadow of the large sedan chair.

Marie squinted, the shifting gleam of polished latex making it difficult to focus on the imposing ruler’s features. Slowly, yet firmly, a black-gloved hand pointed a long leather riding crop to the ground in front of Marie. Looking down, she saw that a silver tray rested in front of her knees. Reaching down, she picked up a pair of wicked-looking pliers from the platter.

She raised her head once more, only to see the crop inches from her face, pointing down at her bosom. In thrall, she brought the tool to her left breast and fitted it over the nipple. She felt the nobles pinching and squeezing her all over, leaving no flesh unprodded, and began to slowly squeeze the device she held.

When she woke up, Marie sensed that something was very wrong. She shifted a bit in her satin wrapping and suddenly felt a painful tug on her nipples. Aching, she dug herself out of the tangled sheets and discovered that she was wearing a pair of clover-style nipple clamps, connected with a short chain. She angrily pulled them off with one quick jerk and tossed them into a bedroom corner. Marie doubled over in pain as the blood suddenly returned to the tender flesh. As quickly as she could, Marie jumped up and put them back on, wailing in humiliation.

With eyes still wet, she got up to get ready for work. The rather small and elegant clamps decorated her nipples, and the chain jingled as she moved. She reached into a drawer to grab some underwear, only to find another change: the drawer was filled to the rim with the most unbelievable collection of gags. Dozens of them, all shapes, styles and colors. Playfully, she picked a penis gag mounted on a rectangle plate just bigger than her mouth and sucked it in, pressing the plate against her lips. Marie’s loins warmed immediately, and her hand wandered down toward her pussy when she realized that she had to leave soon. She opened the next drawer – to find a ridiculous collection of hoods, masks, blindfolds and several items she could not even identify.

Marie stepped back in shock, still massaging her sore nipples around the clamps. Someone was toying with her, she realized. She had been in a state of arousal and confusion for several days now, and everything that happened to her had been carefully timed and placed to throw her off guard.

Marie searched her room thoroughly now, determined to overcome the feeling of helplessness she felt. Whoever was doing this wanted to break her, and the only way to resist was to calm down and think things out. So far her tormentor had used humiliation and arousal to shake her. If she could just fight those two feelings, she could keep her wits about her and investigate.

Marie flipped through her closet, recognizing only about a third of what was inside as hers. She had no bras and no panties aside from the rubber pair she had taken off last night. All of the bustiers in the closet were half-cup, and all the blouses were tight and sheer and the skirts short and bouncy.

Finally she spotted a trunk in the back of the closet that had not been there before. Opening it revealed a leather-and-chrome corset and thong, with diagonal breast cups, shoulder straps and adjustable fasteners. Laying the items out on her bed, she saw that the thong had twin plugs and the bra cups had furry disks over the nipples. A little prying with a screwdriver popped the disks out, and the plugs unscrewed with little effort.

Satisfied that it could not tease her, Marie pulled the thong about her waist. She realized quickly that the metal buckles had round keyholes on them, like a bike lock. This was a chastity belt.

“Well well,” Marie grinned to herself. “I could do with a few days of chastity now, so that I can focus on my work!” She snapped the belt closed and patted the chrome panel over her mound, then set the keys aside for a moment.

The corset was a complicated device, and Marie soon realized that she would need to cinch herself down by at least four inches before it would buckle closed. The front piece spooned in at the stomach, and the rear lacings were designed to cinch it just long enough that the hooks and clasps at the edges could fasten.

Marie held it to her front, and felt the chain of the nipple clamps press into her chest. Arousal, humiliation, and now pain, she realized.

Marie looked at the clock by her bedside. She would definitely miss her first train, but she could get in reasonably on time if she hurried. Reaching into a drawer she pulled out some tiny rubber bands from when she had worn a dental retainer. They were designed to tug her jaw into a position that would improve her bite, but they were just the right size to keep constant pressure around her nipples.

She slowly pulled off the left clamp and began sliding the little rings around her stiff teat, the pressure slowly easing the pain. Satisfied that it worked, she quickly yanked off the other clamp and banded her right nipple.

Rushing now, she threaded the laces into the back of the corset and stepped into it from above. Standing on tiptoe, she hooked the loop over a plant hook in the ceiling and began to squat, using her own weight to cinch the device. She had not worn a corset in years, but the memories soon began to drift back.

She exhaled and leaned against the lacings again and again, her waist constricting down by three, then four, now four and a half inches. Just as she was about to give up, she heard a single metallic “clink” sound. Straining, she lifted her feet off the floor and let all the clasps fasten with a staccato clickety-clack.

Red faced and gasping, Marie knelt and ran her hands about her nipped waist, feeling a familiar luxurious pride at her delicious curves. She knew that she would soon get used to breathing differently and using her hips and knees to bend over instead of her waist. She undid the lacings and stuffed them in the box.

Picking up the keys she began to muse over what to do with them. If she left them in the house, whoever it was could just use them to unlock the belt and corset. If she gave them to someone, how could she know that that person wasn’t responsible for all that was happening to her?

Marie figured she needed a few days to investigate things with a clear head. The US postal service was slow, but reliable, making it a perfect temporary keeper of her chastity. Marie decided to take no chances, and addressed an envelope to Angie, figuring that it would take a little extra time to get the keys back from her.

Another look at the clock reminded Marie that she would be late for work if she didn’t dress quickly. She pulled on a pair of thigh-high seamed black stockings and attached them to the garters hanging from her corset. A red knee-length a-line skirt and a low-cut sheer white silk blouse went over her leather and metal undergarments. To hide the black and silver bra cups and straps of her corset, she pulled on a black double-breasted jacket that hugged her nipped waist perfectly. A red scarf covered her collar neatly.

Satisfied with her modesty despite the cleavage created by her corset and revealed by her blouse and jacket, she slipped her feet into a pair of 4” patent leather heels and buckled the ankle straps as best she could with her stiff waist. Tossing on an overcoat, she grabbed her briefcase and minced her way to the train station as quickly as she could, the envelope clutched in her hand.

Red-faced and out of breath, she staggered into the office and stopped short. There, sitting on her desk as if waiting for her, was Joe. Angie was sitting in her chair, eyes downcast, fidgeting with the cord to her telephone. Joe had a smug, self-satisfied look on his face, and he leered at Marie as she set her suitcase down.

“You’re late.” he snapped, “The boss wanted to do this himself, but since you weren’t here, I’m supposed to deliver the message.” Joe held out a letter printed on company letterhead, signed in blue ink.

“It’s no secret that there have been cutbacks recently. This company is going through hard times, and we can’t afford any dead weight. From now on it’s only A+ players in here. Your work has been suffering lately, Marie. You’ve been distracted, and we just can’t afford to keep you on any longer.”

“Joe! That was unnecessary!” Angelica snapped.

Joe grinned at her, and turned back to look Marie straight in the eye as she read over her severance letter. “You’ll get one month’s severance pay, and you can finish out the next week. You’ll still be in the company health plan if you want to keep paying, and you’ll have access to job counseling if you need it.”

Marie looked desperately into Angie’s eyes, hoping to see that it was some sort of joke. Angelica simply turned her chair around and hung her head in her hands.

Joe pushed past Marie on his way out of the cubicle, “Of course, babe, I’m always here for you.” He chuckled as he walked back to his office.

Marie sat down at her desk, stunned. A month’s pay would help cover the American property taxes on her Aunt’s home, but it couldn’t last forever. She needed to find a new job, and that might take up the time she needed to investigate her intruder.

She thought back to the confidence counseling she had been going to. She tried to imagine the stronger, more confident side of her personality and what it would do in this situation.

“C’mon honey, let’s go out for lunch.” Angelica snapped Marie out of her daze, and she realized that she had been daydreaming for at least an hour.

“Sure. Yes, yes. Of course.” Marie cleared her throat and stood up, straightening her skirt.

Angelica smiled weakly and tried to improve her friend’s spirits, “By the way, I love the new wardrobe! Those shoes are dead sexy. Where did you get them?”

Punishment

Marie followed Angelica dumbly as they walked to lunch. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach was held in check only by the severe cinching of her chastity corset. She focused mostly on walking in her high heels, her eyes following the seams in the backs of Angelica’s stockings as they sashayed before her.

The pair walked into a local Italian restaurant and were quickly seated in a dim two-person booth. Marie picked idly at her pasta while Angelica spoke. She knew her appetite would be diminished while she was wearing the corset, and reminded herself to take a vitamin when she got home.

“You did a great job during your time there, and you’ll find a new job in no time. So you hit a slump at a bad time! You’ll bounce back. I know you will!” Angelica cheered her on. Marie simply sighed and took a sip of the martini Angie bought her.

“You just need to get your confidence back. Are you still seeing that confidence therapist I recommended? He did a bang-up job helping me bring out my more aggressive side when I need it!”

“Yeah, yeah, I bought the DVDs and everything.” Marie groaned, “I give it a try now and again, but my control over my life is weakening by the day. I thought I’d found my grasp this morning, but now this happened. It’s as though the entire universe is conspiring to keep me off-balance.” She tossed back the rest of her drink.

“Look, you just need to spend a day taking long soaking baths and enjoying yourself. Then go out and have some fun! Oh! I know just the thing!” Angie reached into her handbag and pulled out a printed party invitation. “Some friends of mine are throwing a Halloween party, and asked me to bring along a girlfriend. You’ll meet a lot of new people, and maybe learn a thing or two about people you won’t recognize until the midnight unmasking!”

Marie took the envelope, and opened it up to reveal a card listing the place and time, as well as the requirement for an identity-obscuring mask.

“Oh! That reminds me!” Marie looked up nervously as she folded the invitation into her briefcase. “I had a package sent to your place, thinking I could get it at work. When it comes, would you call me?”

Angelica’s face changed subtly, her tone suddenly far more suspicious. “Um, what sort of package?”

“Just an envelope with some important items in it. It’ll fit in your mailbox, so you don’t need to sign for anything. It’s just important that I get them back shortly after they arrive.”

Angelica simply looked at her plate and wiped her mouth. She stood up and gave Marie a quick peck on the cheek.

“I’ve got to get back soon, since I’ve got a double workload now that you’re gone. I’ll look out for a package, but you have to work on your costume for the party! I’ll see you there!”

Marie looked on, puzzled, as Angelica caught the server and paid with her card at the door. Sighing as much as she could in her tight corset, she picked up her things and headed home.

Marie stopped short as she entered her house. On the floor in the entryway was a smartly-wrapped package with a card slipped into the ribbon. She opened it to reveal a card lettered in the familiar bold calligraphy of her tormentor.

Enclosed you will find your Halloween costume. You will need to convince Angelica to return your keys before it will fit.

By the way, we did not appreciate you dismantling the corset and chastity before putting them on. Once you enter your bedroom, your punishment will begin.

Marie swallowed hard, noticing the use of the word “we”. Was that the royal “we”, or are there many people conspiring to abuse her? Her hands shook, and she felt her whole body tense every time she read the word “punishment” on the card.

Deciding that looking at the costume now would only disturb her further, Marie unstrapped and pulled off her shoes and began undressing as she walked toward the bathroom. Once she was down to the chastity corset, she stopped and sat on the edge of the tub. The corset was leather, and water would only cause it to warp and shrink. Damn! Why hadn’t she thought of that? It looked like Angie’s suggestion would have to mean sponge baths until she could unlock herself.

Shaking visibly, Marie tiptoed toward her bedroom, heart pounding. She nearly jumped when she saw an envelope taped to the door with the word “ORDERS” written on it. Marie whimpered as she opened the card and read her instructions.

You will obey to the letter, or the punishment will be dealt with double the intensity and triple the duration.

1. enter the bedroom and sit down at your makeup table
2. apply the substance in the white tube to your lips, spreading evenly
3. put on the trainer gag provided, ensuring that your lips meet up with the gasket
4. stand and walk to your bed
5. close the cuffs provided around your ankles, and likewise your wrists
6. wait for punishment to begin
7. suffer, slave.

Marie began to sob, the last instruction scaring her in a very real way. Her cinched abdomen made her hyperventilation reach such a state that she had to calm herself if she wanted to keep breathing. Steadying her gasps, Marie reached out a trembling hand and opened the bedroom door.

Inside, she saw that her aunt’s old iron bed had been stripped of all sheets, and a sheet of black latex covered the mattress. Attached to the iron head and footboards were chains leading to rubber-lined steel cuffs. Marie stumbled over to the vanity and sat down, numbly picking up a white tube that said “EPOXY” on it. Spreading it over her lips, she began arranging the trainer straps over her head, tightening buckles and pushing the dildo gag between her lips, ensuring that her mouth touched the gasket at the base.

She looked at herself in the mirror, tears trickling down her stuffed cheeks, the steel O-ring dangling from the front of her gag. Marie bit down on the rubber cock, trying to open her lips to let more air into her compressed lungs, but her lips were glued fast. Panicking, she undid the straps and began tugging and pulling at the gag, crying around the thick phallus.

Recovering her dignity, Marie re-strapped the trainer harness and stumbled toward her bed. She sat on the rubber mattress and held up one of the ankle cuffs. It looked as though it used a similar self-ratcheting system to the one that the corset used. She placed it around her left ankle and pressed the halves together, clicking it shut.

She fumbled with it for a few minutes, but was unable to discover by what mechanism she would unlock it again. Even the seams were smooth, as though it had been forged around her ankle. Resigning herself to her fate, Marie ratcheted the other cuff onto her right foot and lay back in the bed. Wincing with each loud metal sound, she finally closed both wrist cuffs.

And she waited.

The sun began to lower in the sky, and the street lamps turned on outside her window. The woman across the alleyway from her had a loud argument with someone on the phone, and a pair of cats fought among the bushes.

Marie flinched at every sudden noise she heard, moaning and whimpering like a baby into her gag. The hours dragged on, and she began to wonder if she hadn’t really disabled whatever it was that was meant to punish her. Had her lips not been glued to the penis gag, she would have smiled smugly now and again.

By about ten at night, she remembered that instruction number six was “wait for punishment to begin”, and that was precisely what she was doing. The instructions never said how long she would have to wait. The next two hours were an agony of anticipation.

Finally, as the clock sounded midnight, a subtle electric tingling began to tease her nipples beneath the corset. Marie was so startled by the sensation that she thrashed in her chains, the iron bed ringing like a bell as the links rattled against it. Soon, a similar teasing tingle began at her clitoris.

Two minutes into it, Marie was in heaven. Her arousal mounted and grew as the buzzing energy stimulated her erogenous zones. Marie moaned with pleasure into her gag.

The intensity suddenly shot up, and what was once a gentle teasing suddenly became a painful jolt to her sensitive flesh. Marie again thrashed against her chains, a muffled scream seeping through her nostrils and tickling the back of her tongue where it met the tip of the cockgag.

The electricity stopped altogether, and Marie stopped to catch her breath. “Thank god” she thought, “that was horrible, but it’s over now. I wonder how I get out of this now…”

She looked around the room, hoping to find some clue as to what she was to do now. As she felt around the bars of her bed, suddenly the teasing sensations began again.

The cycle went on for eight hours: pleasure, pain, rest, pleasure, pain, rest. By the time the sun came up again, Marie was no longer struggling. Her eyes rolled back into her head during the pleasure, squinted shut during the pain, and roamed the room without focusing on anything during the intermissions.

As the morning sun began to shine into the bay window, the telephone rang. After three rings, Marie’s answering machine picked up, playing a quick recording of her voice. At the beep, her nipples and clitoris began to tingle again. Her arousal grew once again as she listened to Angelica’s voice on her machine.

“Listen, baby, I got your envelope. Give me a call when you want to get them back, and we’ll meet up. By the way, I hope you found a good costume for the party!” The answering machine beeped again, and Marie’s struggles gained a second wind as she screamed into her glued-on gag, terrified at the thought of how long it would be before she could walk or speak again.

Calling for Help

Marie was again in the stone courtyard, her naked body on display for the nobles in attendance. This time she was standing, her ankles chained to rings in the paving stones set a few feet apart. Her wrists were cuffed and tethered by a chain to something high above her head.

The nobles murmured their approval and arousal as a rubber lash snapped at her taut body. The blows came from behind, and stung her arse, pussy, back, and breasts. She tried to moan, but the breath would not come out. Hanging her head, Marie felt the heavy scold’s bridle that covered the lower half of her face, the bit pushing down on her tongue.

The blows stopped for a moment, and a heavy hand began to massage and caress her sensitive parts. The soothing manipulations caused her to relax some, and she looked up at the sedan chair. Its occupant was still hidden in shadow, but Marie could just make out that her legs were crossed. Yes, it seemed to be a woman, since the tip of a high-heeled platform boot poked out into the light just a little. Marie squinted, and the lash began to lay its biting kisses on her tortured body once more.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Click.

At first Marie did not recognize the sound, but when she rolled over on the mattress to investigate its source, she quickly understood. Her shackles had snapped open. In a few seconds, she shook them off of her ankles and wrists, and sat up in the bed.

Freedom… Choices! The endless punishment and pleasure of the previous evening had distorted her sense of time so severely that it took her several minutes of concentration and stretching to fully grasp that she was no longer bound and tortured. She had nearly forgotten how it felt to have options or control.

The possibilities ran through her mind. Would she just get dressed and walk out of the house? She looked to the mass of rubber and leather in her closet and remembered that her everyday wardrobe had vanished. Finally would she get that orgasm she had craved for all night? Marie squeezed her legs together and felt her abused clit throb slightly. She wasn’t sure she could manage that at this point, although her need had not disappeared. Besides, she’d need to get out of the chastity corset first, and to do that she’d have to call Angie.

Marie growled in frustration around her gag, suddenly very aware of its filling presence at the back of her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. With a huge nasal sigh she lifted herself from the latex bed, almost chuckling at the odd “mmmmffffgggnnnn” sounds she made.

Her eyes fell on the strange note: “Suffer”. She realized that she had fulfilled all her tasks to the letter, that one included. A tingling chill went down her spine as she realized how obediently she had submitted herself to the ordeal. She felt something in her gut that wasn’t quite fear, wasn’t quite anticipation, and had a strong glow of arousal.

Oh how she longed for that day in the hot tub Angie had suggested! Her poor nipples and clit ached for the soothing bath! Marie undid the straps of the head harness and spat the foul penis gag out. Or rather, tried to.

She pushed as hard as she could with her tongue until her lips felt torn and painful. Stepping over with her jelly-weak legs, she took a long look at herself in the mirror. The trainer straps hung down from her mouth like a bundle of bizarre black leather spaghetti. She looked terrible, a complete mess. During her struggles, the straps had welded themselves deep into her face and across her forehead. Her hair was sticky, sweaty. “Gosh,” Marie thought to herself, “Good thing Angie did not see me like this.” She brushed her hair the best she could and tried in vain to peel off the gag. When she had peeled enough of her lips skin to make it bleed at the middle of the lower lip, she finally gave up.

An SMS then! Yes of course, that would work! Angelica had to be on her way to work right now. Marie did her best to make it sound urgent.

Come by my place immediately, I need your help! Bring those keys I sent you! -m

Reluctantly, Marie redid the harness straps about her head, deciding it would look a bit less gruesome. “Still,” she realized, “How embarrassing to have her enter and discover me in this state!” She decided that it was still better than not getting out of the disgusting corset. She longed for a shower.

Then her mind fell on the package again. How could she have forgotten? Her mind had wandered to it again and again over that endless night! In no time at all she had torn the wrapping off and discovered the gleaming catsuit within. Taking it out of the box, she discovered that it truly was a cat-suit. Marie felt her crotch getting warm in spite of the night’s long torment.

What beautiful patterns and special items! The suit had built-in boots formed like cats paws. Marie felt through the fabric and discovered that her feet would be forced into a very steep curving arch once they were forced into the sheaths. Short white fur sprouted at the shoulders and ran down the spine–and down the tail!

Marie gave the tail a squeeze and felt the inflated rubber give, growing longer. Suspiciously she felt into the suit and found her worst guess to be confirmed. The tail would be held up or horizontal by an inflatable butt plug, and the tail was the pump. She touched her back opening and already felt sorry for it.

There was a wonderful silver belt attached to the suit with pockets she could not open, there were gloves with very realistic chrome claws, and a heavy duty zip ran from the tail right up to the throat and into a hidden flap. An eyelet would allow her to padlock the zipper up there.

Marie’s cell phone gave the short beep for incoming messages.

Be at your place in 10. Do you ever answer your phone?

Marie scrambled upstairs and closed the bedroom door. She shoved the suit into the lowest drawer, the one where only days ago her beautiful collection of cashmere sweaters had been stored. The thought of them gave a sting to her heart, and she realized that under no circumstances could she meet Angie in this attire. But what did she have to cover herself?

From the corner of her eye, Marie spotted a yellow dressing gown hanging from a hook on her bathroom door. It would have to do! She quickly grabbed it and flung it over her shoulders, unconsciously relishing the wonderful cool touch of latex on her bare skin.

Before she could inspect it longer, the doorbell rang. Marie checked the clock and saw that 5 minutes at the most had passed. What if it was one of the neighbors? She tied the rubber sashcord in a quick knot as she rushed to the door. As she reached the entrance hallway, she noticed that the gown hardly concealed anything! It was made entirely of transparent latex, and where it pressed against her skin or the corset, everything beneath it was clearly visible.

As she was panicking, trying to think of what to do, the doorbell rang urgently several times. Marie made an inquisitive “Mmmm?” sound, and heard Angie’s voice in reply.

“Are you all right in there, sweetie?” What a relief it was to hear her friend’s familiar voice! Marie mmmpfffed a silly reply and opened the door.

Angelica

Marie staggered backward, her hand covering her gagged mouth in shame, tears leaking from her eyes. Her other arm weakly tried to cover the image of the black-and-silver corset beneath the slick transparent bathrobe.

Angelica stood taller than usual before her, a pair of towering platform- heeled boots bringing her five-foot-five-inch frame up higher than Marie’s five foot nine. Angelica reached out with a gloved hand and pushed the front door closed, latching it and threading the security chain through its slot.

Marie’s shame and embarrassment was momentarily forgotten as she looked her friend up and down. The transformation was stunning, and she almost didn’t recognize her. Angelica’s raincoat hung open, and Marie could see her stocky frame enclosed in a fierce looking leather corset with shoulder straps. Angie’s waist was smartly nipped, and her breasts contained to form a distinct cleavage. From the waist down to her knees she was wrapped in a soft leather pencil skirt, a hint of fishnets showing between hem and boot.

Angelica pulled off the sunglasses she was wearing, and threw back the hood of her overcoat. “Could you help me with my coat?”

Marie just stared, her jaw slack (although one could never tell thanks to her gag). When Angelica turned to glare at her, Marie began whimpering and pointing to her mouth.

“Oh you poor dear! Having trouble getting the gag out?” Angelica pulled her leather gloves off, and casually laid them over Marie’s rubber-clad forearm. She felt around Marie’s lips, testing the seal. “Ah, I see. It’s glued on. You must have been very naughty to get the glue gag so early! Then you were punished last night?” She looked at Marie, her eyes full of sympathy.

Marie didn’t know what to make of things. Part of her was still unsure that this was her good friend Angelica talking down to her. She mumbled confused questions around the rubber penis in her mouth, but Angelica took no notice.

“Calm down, sweetie. It will wear off in a day or two. Until then you’ll have to settle for a liquid diet. But first things first!” Angelica pulled an envelope from her pocket, but not the one that Marie had mailed to her. On it was written in a familiar firm calligraphic hand the name ‘ANGIE’.

Angelica opened the envelope and pulled out a length of thin chain and a small card with the same sort of writing on it. Reading the card quickly, she padlocked one end of the chain to the ring on the front of Marie’s gag.

Marie let out a squeal, unable to believe that her good friend was leashing her in such a twisted fashion. Turning her face away, Angelica pulled on the leather handle of the chain leash, and began to drag Marie toward the living room. Marie grabbed the chain in her hands to prevent the tension from pulling at her neck, letting the gloves she held fall to the floor.

Angelica dragged Marie to the center of the living room and began attaching the top of the chain to the medieval-looking chandelier hanging from the ceiling. When she was finished, Marie’s head was pulled up slightly, so that she was able to look forward but unable to turn her head down. Finally, Angelica grabbed Marie’s wrists and attached them to the chain above her head with a pair of steel handcuffs.

At this point Angelica sighed heavily, and looked the frightened girl in the eyes. “Oh Marie, what did you do to deserve so much punishment so early?” She embraced the bound woman and tenderly stroked her cheek between the straps of the gag trainer.

Marie’s eyes simply followed her friend’s motions, closing only to savor the presence of her beloved Angelica. She was in a daze, the behavior of her best friend tearing at her heart and mind.

Angelica soon stood up straight again, gathered her composure, and read aloud from the card she held. “There is good news and bad news. The bad news is that your Halloween costume will not fit while you wear the corset, and the keys will not arrive at Angie’s for two more days.” Marie leaned against the chain, hanging and swaying slightly as she listened to the message from her unseen tormentors relayed through the sweet voice of her closest companion.

“The good news is that the locks are identical to those of the model that Angie sometimes wears, and she will unlock you.”

Marie craned her neck to look at Angelica as she fished out a pair of bicycle lock keys from her cleavage. She fumbled for a while to untie the knot at the front of Marie’s rubber bathrobe, and finally after much squeaking she opened the garment to reveal the silver and black corset and chastity belt combination.

Reaching up, she pulled at a piece of chromed steel, swinging it open to reveal a ring-shaped keyhole like those on the ends of bicycle locks. With expert speed, she slipped the keys into the appropriate holes and released the spring-catches, causing the entire garment to jump from Marie’s body and fall clanging to the floor.

“Oh, that’s strange!” Angelica cooed, looking at the open device on the floor before her. “I never knew you could remove the plugs! I’ve pulled the nipple brushes out of the cups before to clean them, but I always put them back. Those are the best part of wearing the thing!”

Marie began moaning into her gag, the emotions twisting inside her. She began to struggle and strain against her cuffs and gag-chain, yearning to be free and to be able to just ask her friend what all this was about. She longed to be alone with Angelica, so that she could be soothed properly by her, so that they could talk without the silent presence of her invisible captor. What cruel Master or Mistress dominated these two women, and would this bring them together or keep them apart? Marie finally burst into tears, her wails distorted by the rubber penis.

Angelica bit her lip and embraced Marie once more. Marie realized that her stomach and back muscles ached from the long confinement, and her nipples and clitoris were sore. Angelica tried in vain to soothe her subjugated companion, assuring her that the worst was over and that if she obeyed and was a good girl she would receive the rewards that only a slave can know.

“I know you have many questions, but you have to believe me when I say that to answer them now would bring both of us only great suffering. Have faith that you will understand everything in time. It was hard for me too, at first; but as I came to accept my place as a slave, my new life became much more enjoyable. You’ll see! You just…” Angie traced her finger over Marie’s glued lips, “…got off to a bad start.”

Marie closed her eyes and began breathing deeply through her nose, taking advantage of her unrestricted abdomen. Finally, with all the presence of will she could muster, she shot Angelica a look of absolute betrayal.

Angie immediately cast her eyes downward, unable to look her friend in the eye. “Well, there is just one more thing. It says here that you will notice some strange changes, and that you are to understand that they happened to prove to you that you cannot lock your body away. Your body is no longer your property, and what happens to it is not in your power to decide any more.”

Angelica looked at the floor, avoiding Marie’s gaze. “I am giving you the keys to the cuffs and the leash. I will not see you until the masquerade party, and there we will not recognize each other until the unmasking. I hope you decide to accept your fate and enjoy the evening out. Please… Just…”

Angelica stepped beside Marie and slipped a keyring over her finger, still looking away from her.

“Just know that… whatever you’re going through…” finally she began to cry “…just know that I’ve gone through worse!” and with that, she ran from the house, sobbing.

Marie hung there, listening to the sound of her friend opening and slamming the door, and the sound of her heavy platform boots on the sidewalk outside, the quick rasp of a sniffling woman vanishing into the sounds of the city.

After a few minutes of careful fumbling and testing, Marie managed to get the cuffs undone, and she spent a few minutes working the kinks out of her shoulders before releasing her gag from the leash. Finally, she collapsed back into her plush sofa, wrapping the rubber bathrobe around her.

She felt an odd tugging at her nipple, so she reached up to adjust the garment so that it wouldn’t pinch so much. Feeling around, she found what seemed like a hard ring built into the robe. Looking down, she realized with horror that it was in fact a heavy metal ring threaded through the flesh of her nipple!

She stood up suddenly and peeled off the robe, revealing two large nipple piercings, each with a large red gem-like ball at the bottom. Running her hand down her front, she quickly discovered the matching smaller ring run through her clitoris. She howled into her gag, enraged by the thought that somehow she had been pierced full of holes and embedded with metal trinkets. She felt around her body frantically, but fortunately the three rings she had already found were the only ones.

Exhausted, she slumped back down onto the couch, fingering her new piercings idly. When had this happened? She had put on the corset with rubber bands over her nipples, and when she took it off there were piercings. Had she somehow forgotten an hour’s worth of being freed from the contraptions, getting genital piercings, and then re-attaching the devices? The big question is how the hell the corset and chastity belt came off without her or Angelica’s keys!

Realizing that she was famished, Marie reluctantly rolled off the couch and headed to the kitchen. She drank orange juice through a straw while she made some soup for herself. She could already feel more of the gag’s glue weakening, and estimated that it would probably be safe to pull it off sometime the next morning.

After a much-needed but difficult to swallow meal, Marie stumbled up to her bedroom to finally get some sleep. The ordeal of the previous evening had left her deliriously tired, and the strain of the afternoon’s encounter had done nothing for her exhaustion. She pushed open the door to find her bed still naked save for a simple latex sheet, the cuffs still attached to the iron frame. Too weak to properly make the bed, she rolled onto the bare rubber and massaged her belly.

Marie mused over her position as she calmed herself down. She was being controlled through pleasure, pain, embarrassment, and now she did not even have the ability to turn to her closest friend for comfort or advice. The forces that kept her enslaved seemed impossible to fight against. She could not endure another punishment session like the one from the previous night – the waiting alone was agony even before she knew what sort of pain the corset was capable of dealing.

“You win.” She thought, “I give up. I am your slave… I am Your slave. Please, be gentle! I cannot fight or resist You!”

Marie rolled over in the bed and looked at the cuffs. Accept your place, Angie had said, and you will receive the rewards that only a slave can know. With that thought, Marie reached down and slowly slipped her foot into a steel cuff, squeezing the buttersoft rubber lining tight around her ankle as she locked herself once more to the bed. As she bound herself with the other three cuffs she thought to herself, “I hope that You see this, because I could really use a break about now.”

In moments, she was sound asleep, and dreaming of wild animalistic sex.

The Family Doctor

Marie drifted back to the stone courtyard again, this time looking up at the medieval rooftops of the surrounding buildings and the sky above. She lay on her back, ankles bound to wrists in a tight frog-tie. Lifting her head up, she saw the nobles and courtesans grinning down at her from just past her knees.

A jester turned cartwheels over her bound body, each leap threatening to land on a tensed thigh or a pierced breast. He quickly leaned into Marie’s face and laughed. A domino mask covered his eyes and nose, hiding his face with a macabre Pinocchio.

He twisted into a backflip, and suddenly knelt between Marie’s knees. Marie looked down at him and saw him lick his painted lips hungrily. Slowly, he leaned in toward Marie’s womanhood and began to poke his mask’s elongated nose into her.

Marie moaned as darkness blotted out the sky. Twisting her head this way and that, she realized that two platform high-heel boots were standing on either side of her head. Following them up the shapely female legs, she realized that she was looking up the latex skirt of the ruler from the sedan chair.

Marie stared into the mass of rubber, leather, and steel above her, and realized that the woman was squatting down toward her. As all light dimmed, Marie saw the most painful looking studded steel strap-on dildo pointed directly down at her mouth.

She woke suddenly in pitch blackness. Was she blindfolded? No, no she had swapped her baby blue curtains for heavy black ones. Why had she done that? They were a memento of her childhood. Streetlamps. They glared in the window at night. The heavy black velvet would block out the sun.

No, that’s not right. The sun shone in the other morning, visible around the cracks. It must still be nighttime.

Marie blinked as her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, squinting at a strange triangle painted on the ceiling. Three red beams glowed above her, the upper one less than a foot long, and the other two pointing like an arrow toward her feet. They seemed to move, to be alive in some way.

Marie stretched in her bonds, and noticed that the gentle tension of the cuffs on her body seemed much less stressful than the night before. She twisted her shoulders to work out a mild kink in her neck, and noticed the beams twisting in a similar fashion.

Curiosity brought Marie to her full senses, and she realized with some confusion that she must be looking at her own reflection. There had been no mirror on the ceiling when she went to sleep, had there? There certainly wasn’t one there the other night, as she had counted cracks in the ceiling to keep time during the early hours of her punishment.

Marie twisted in her bonds as much as possible, and verified that the beams were coming from the jewels in her piercings. The red beams played an edgy, mathematically regular pattern on her naked skin. She admired the look, imagining herself suspended naked in the path of a laser show at some warehouse rave.

As she watched the lights, she began to get the impression that they reacted to her feelings and thoughts, pulsing and shifting. The collar, too, seemed to be alive in some strange way. Marie kept wondering if the ominous five letters along the front of her throat were glowing red as well, but every time she looked directly at it the effect would seem to vanish.

Marie felt aroused and excited in a gentle sort of way; but with her hands cuffed above her head and her legs tethered to the corners of the bed, she could do nothing to take advantage of it. The gentle pulsing and throbbing lulled her back into a deep sleep.

Marie woke a few hours later to the now familiar click-click-click-click of her cuffs. She stretched eagerly and massaged her wrists and ankles as she sat up on the bare rubber bedsheet. She examined the cuffs once more, and tried to determine if they released on a timer or if some external event had opened them. Unable to understand even the beginnings of how they worked, she again unbuckled the web of straps from her gag’s head-harness.

By now she figured there had to have been enough saliva to dissolve the glue. Marie pushed hard with her tongue and pulled on the dangling leather as hard as she could. After a little jostling, the gag finally moved with a sharp, stinging pain. Looking down at the gag in her lap, she saw scraps of skin still glued to the base of the rubber cock-bit.

Marie immediately tasted the iron tanginess of her blood, remembering her childhood habit of licking her wounds to enjoy the wicked flavor. She grinned at the thought that she was a vampire in a previous life (or un-death, at least). She often thought of dressing up as the fetishy underground comic-book vampire Sandra Bodyshell and giving out deep kisses to people at the Castro street party.

Halloween! Marie verified that the costume was still in the drawer, tempted to try it on early. Angie’s words about enslavement and punishment echoed through her mind, but now, in the sunshine of the spring morning, they seemed lighter than they had the day before. She disregarded them as the pulsing rings distracted her again, and closed the costume drawer.

First things first, Marie thought to herself, how do I get rid of these silly ornaments? A sharp, stinging pain stunned her as it snapped through her sensitive flesh. Sweat beaded on her brow, and she bit her sore lip gently. Marie panted as she massaged her nipples, feeling the heavy metal rings through the skin.

The charm of the previous night’s light show had worn off. Marie felt a familiar helpless panic surge through her belly as she twisted the rings through her flesh, looking for some sort of clasp or seam. She moaned as her thoughts raced, trying to think of who had done this vicious thing to her mind and body. Pulling at the rings resulted in nothing than more pain–a punishing pain that had none of the arousing properties that Marie tended to experience.

In her mind, she flipped through all the people she knew in San Francisco, trying to come up with someone who could help. Faces and names came and went as she held her head in her hands. She stopped short and stood straight as one in particular stayed clear in her mind’s eye: Dr. Rosenstock.

Rosenstock had been her family doctor ever since she arrived from Europe, and saw her a few times when she travelled to visit her aunt as a child. Marie realised that she could come up with no cover story that would explain how the piercings came to be. Still, she knew that he would keep their session in confidence, as he had her other embarrassing moments.

Marie recalled the violent orgasm that took her by complete surprise at the age of thirteen. Dr. Rosenstock had placed her in his old leather and steel gynecological examination chair. For a brief moment, the vision of heavy leather straps buckled about her arms, legs, stomach and chest consumed her. She was so rocked by convulsions that the Doctor feared she was having a fit, but realized what had happened when he noticed her swollen pubis.

Ever since that day, his bedside manner improved a hundredfold. He opened up and warmed to marie, helping her feel good about her body and her growth as a woman. He was friendly and sympathetic, whatever her adolescent problems may have been. He was the only person in the world who could possibly have a hint as to her submissive fantasies.

At that thought, Marie scowled. No, in the past week more than a few people have been given clues. Old man Scold the locksmith obviously knew a thing or two, and perhaps Miss Applebee had really been on that train. Perhaps her boss knew… make that ex-boss. And now, of course, her beloved Angie knew things that even Marie had yet to uncover.

Marie glumly picked out the most modest outfit she could find for her trip to the clinic. She laid out a set of white latex underwear, a light blue latex skirt that reached only halfway down her thigh, clear latex stockings, and a sleeveless tank top of white latex with the highest mock-turtleneck she could find. As she dressed, she found with only mild surprise that the shape of the nipple rings showed all too clearly through the two thin layers of rubber, and the neckline of the top ended just below her gleaming silver slave collar. To make matters worse, her nipples poked out from behind the white film looking for all the world like large buttons asking to be pressed.

Marie sat at the vanity, ignoring the more dramatic substances and devices that filled the makeup chest and grabbing some basic foundation and color. She worked as best she could to cover the impressions made by two days strapped into a trainer gag harness, using shadow and color to distract where she couldn’t hide. She realized as she looked at herself in the mirror that she wasn’t looking forward to another train ride dressed like a slutty bitch from the Reeperbahn.

The streetcar was largely empty so late in the morning, but that just meant that the passengers were free to sit back and admire her. Marie looked sheepishly up at the security cameras flashing their little red lights once a second, and thought of the pulsing lights that adorned her body. When she finally stepped off at her stop, she felt all eyes on her as she tripped in her strappy heeled sandals, clutching the hem of her rubber skirt as she stumbled to the sidewalk.

Since Rosenstock was a family friend, no appointment was necessary. He had to be over 70 by now and had only a few patients left. His secretary, about his age, saw Marie through. Marie could have sworn she saw her jaw clench, but the assistant waved her on without comment.

Marie fidgeted nervously in the old red armchair, musing that it must have stood in that very spot since the days when California was a Spanish colony. Her rubber clothing squeaked against the red leather as she traced a finger over the surface of the cushions, wondering if they hadn’t become deeper since she was last here. She pushed her middle finger through the deepest one as she had when her finger was about half as long, and suddenly had the feeling that she was being watched.

“Hi ho, hi ho, Maria! In trouble again?” Marie looked up suddenly at Dr. Rosenstock, blushing a beet red at the sound of the greeting. She quickly recognized the phrase as the one that Secret Agent U69 uses when he finds Sweet Gwendoline bound. Her face flushed redder as she thought of the predicament she had found herself in, and wondered if Rosenstock knew what U69 would do when he found her.

“Oh, h-hello doctor Rosenstock!” Marie blurted out, catching a look at her red face in the mirror by the sink and realizing in horror that the flesh-tone foundation she had painted over the gag strap marks was staying pale while the rest of her face deepened in tone around it. “I, er, I have a bit of a complicated problem lately, and I need your help and advice…”

Even with his open and understanding personality, it was hard to know how to begin a story of how three pieces of intimate jewelry had been attached to her body without knowing how. Marie couldn’t tell if he believed a single word, but he remained his old sympathetic self. She noticed that he was like the old red chair: The wrinkles a bit deeper, the atmosphere a bit more dusty and mysterious. It was nearly natural to peel off the clingy rubber clothing in front of him.

“Would you like to recline into my old examination chair, darling?” Marie blushed again and nodded. The fantasy of nearly 20 years ago returned, but today she kept her control.

The doctor let his index finger wander over the letters of her collar, mumbling, “Hmm, there is something inscribed here…” Marie continued to flush red, struggling to keep the feeling from spreading to her erogenous zones as Rosenstock inspected the nipple rings, the clit ring, her lips… But he didn’t speak another word for the duration of the exam.

“You may get dressed again, Maria!” As she in the old red chair again, he passed Marie a little bottle of ointment. “This is for your lips. They will heal within a few days, my dear, and the mixture of herbal oils will make them smooth and slippery like a baby’s. You may enjoy the taste, but please don’t use it more than twice a day. There is a small risk of addiction.” He paused. “As for the rest of your your transformation, I am afraid there is nothing I can do. You are on a road you chose yourself. And it is your choice if you want to continue or turn back.”

“My choice?” Marie stared at the doctor in disbelief. “I came here expecting answers! I am completely in the dark about what is happening to me, and I never asked for any of it to happen! How can you say that it was my choice?”

Rosenstock sighed and a worn smile spread across his creased face. “Maria, I have known you for the better part of your life. And I knew things about your aunt and her true self and her longings that I will take with me into my grave. If there is one thing you can trust me to know, it is the trajectory of your two lives. So hear my words and think on them carefully: You have been wandering aimlessly for many years now. And now you might find yourself not too far away from a discovering your true destination. You have wandered the desert for too long, and now in the distance you see the shape of a faraway mountain top, covered with cool snow. That vision shows you the dryness of the plain and the thirst in your throat in a way you can no longer ignore.

“You are grown up, Maria. Make up your mind!”

Marie kept silent while the doctor ushered her to the door.

“I have a good bye present for you!” He wrapped her in his old deep brown leather jacket, covering her glossy white second skin. He gently kissed her forehead and waved good bye.

“Keep it, Maria, and keep what you find in the pockets! I hope they help you make your choice.” He called after her. Already half a block away, Marie heard the heavy oak door swing shut.

Marie clung the old coat about her tightly, easily three sizes too wide, and felt strangely grateful–and confused. The old doctor had not told her even a fraction of what he knew. She licked her lips and felt happier. A bit horny, even.

Waiting at the streetcar stop, Marie tried to dig her hands into the pockets only to find them sewn shut. Puzzled, she felt through the leather and discovered the outlines of three round boxes in the left and a lengthy, banana shaped item in the right one. Clutching the bottle of ointment in her fist, she tried to imagine what the two round boxes could be.

As she sat down on the red plastic bench, she shook the sleeves down over her hands and hugged her nervous stomach tightly. She quickly found the gentle rocking of the train hypnotic, and drifted into fantasy and reverie again.

She felt the long sleeves strapped together in the small of her back. She had been trussed up in a leather strait jacket plus matching leg binder, strapped to a signpost in the middle of a familiar stone courtyard. Looking at the reflection in a nearby window, she can read the sign: “FOR SALE OR RENT” with a large red arrow pointing down at her. She sees that her head is wrapped in cage made of steel bars that is welded to the signpost. The exact fit of the head cage implies that it was custom made just for her.

Marie woke quickly as the train’s brakes engaged suddenly. She realized that her crotch was wet, causing the ring in her clitoral hood to sliding around in the slickened rubber panties. She leapt up and stumbled out of the streetcar, nearly missing her stop.

Marie staggered through her front door and laboriously undid the buckles and straps on her high-heeled sandals. She padded into the bathroom without removing her rubber outfit to turn the taps on the large porcelain tub. She got inside and waited until the water level reached her breasts before peeling off the latex.

The gems in her piercings glittered brightly beneath the foamy water, and Marie felt herself glow in the luxurious bath. She reached down and brought herself pleasure, remembering the last time she had masturbated in the tub, still wearing the black panties and bra. After several much-needed orgasms, enhanced by the metal rings at her nipples and clit, as well as the larger one surrounding her throat, Marie finally dried herself off and headed to her bedroom.

The cuffs lay there invitingly, and Marie surrendered her freedom to them for the third time.

“Like in the fairy tales,” Marie mused, “the third time makes the change permanent.” and she thought of another transformation.

“Tomorrow I am going to become a cat.”

A Better Class of Catsuit

Marie woke from her dreams thrashing on the rubber-clad mattress. She tugged at the cuffs above her head, and bent her knees up in an attempt to pull her feet free from the ankle-cuffs holding her to the bed frame. Her dreams had been so ferocious, so intense that she opened her eyes in an aroused fog.

Frustrated and horny, she rubbed her ass against the latex bedsheet, trying to bunch up enough to rub it against her swollen slit. She looked up into the mirror above the bed and watched her nipple and clit rings sparkle in the weak sunlight that shone through the cracks in the black velvet curtains adorning the large bay window.

She looked down, and saw a golden sunbeam cast across her right thigh, creeping slowly toward the center of her body. She leaned as far to the right as her bonds would allow, hoping that the sun’s warmth would help push her over the edge. She grunted and moaned audibly, realizing that this was the first time in three days that she woke up ungagged.

A little struggling and a few minutes’ wait soon had the sunbeam running right up her slit, the clitoral hood piercing dazzling red and silver in the morning light. She muttered exclamations of excitement as she felt the two nipple rings warm and glow in sympathetic reaction to their lower sibling.

As she gasped in pleasure, Marie saw the intricate patterns of red and white light play over the bound slavegirl reflected on the ceiling. She clearly saw the lettering on her collar glow red, and similar engravings glowing on her wrist and ankle cuffs. As the light show reached a fever pitch, it suddenly happened:

    Click.

    Click.

    Click.

    Click.

Her cuffs snapped open, and her arms instantly swung down to rub her needy snatch. She curled up into a tight ball, the light show stopping suddenly, and masturbated herself to a screaming orgasm that had her toes curled so tightly that they pulled on the rubber sheet.

When she caught her breath, Marie rolled off the bed and stood up shakily. She inspected the cuffs carefully, but found no sign of the writing she thought she saw just before they had opened. She felt pleased, somehow, to have figured out that the cuffs were activated by her piercings. She had no idea how they had opened after her punishment, but was willing to accept that that had been a special event.

Rosy and glowing from the beginning of her day, she fixed herself a hearty breakfast and ate hungrily. It felt wonderful to truly chew her food again, and she savored the texture of the eggs against the roof of her mouth. She read the paper, lounged on the sofa in her clear rubber dressing gown, and watched a DVD. She enjoyed a morning all to herself, undirected by her unseen master or mistress.

After catching up on her e-mail, she began to tidy up. She mopped the rubber sheet on her bed and sprayed it with silicone lubricant to bring back its shine. She treated the rubber clothing she had worn over the past few days and hung it up in the closet, then cleaned out and treated the corset and chastity.

After she had scrubbed all the residue off of the gag and oiled all the harness straps, she opened the drawer to put it away. There, inside the pocket where the gag was to sit, was a card with two words written in the familiar calligraphy of her masters:

Good girl.

Marie stumbled back, her nipples and clitoris swelling with pleasure around their piercings. She fumbled to put the gag away, and ran into the bathroom to bring herself off.

Marie sat on the edge of the tub and pushed the rubber of her bathrobe down between her legs, pressing the stretchy material inside herself. With her other hand, she kneaded her breasts and twisted the rings inside her nipples. She brought herself up to a plateau of arousal, and felt herself just about to go over the edge.

“AAAAAAAUGH!” Marie doubled over in pain, her nipples and clitoris stinging with orgasm-blocking punishment. She caught her breath slowly and began to work herself back toward release, only to be stopped yet again by a stinging jolt.

Over time, she realized that she was meant to be kept in an aroused, yet frustrated state. Her heart sank as she began to understand that no amount of avoiding stimulation would make the pleasure stop, and no amount of masturbation would bring release before the punishment hit. Idly stroking and fidgeting, she bit her fist and tried to ignore the sensations.

Buzzed and excited, she decided it was a good time to get ready for the party. She started the shower running and left to retrieve the costume and its accessories. Returning with the box, she set it on the sink and hung her dressing gown on the hook.

She showered, toweled herself dry, and laid out the single-piece costume on the floor. Taking the tube of lubricant from the tub, she slathered her body with the slimy goo. Satisfied that she was sufficiently lubricated, she turned her attention to the catsuit.

Wrestling with the mass of rubber, she managed to unzip the back of it down to the tail. Wiping excess lube off on the inside, she gathered the left leg about the stiff built-in boot. She balanced as best she could on her right foot, and eased her pointed toes into the rubber paw.

She realized quite quickly that the built-in boot was made like a set of ponygirl hooves she once saw when browsing on-line. The arch of her foot was held en pointe by an internal spring-steel shank in order to resemble the lower segment of a cat’s hindquarters, and her toes fit into the weighted platform section made up to look like the velveted pads of a cat’s toes. She pulled the heavy supporting rubber up around her lower leg and left the upper latex portion bunched around her knee while she worked herself into the right foot.

Standing in the two hooflike paw-shoes, Marie struggled for balance while she worked the suit’s legs up over her thighs. She slipped more than a few times, as the lubricant she had smeared over her ass cheeks made it impossible to lean against the porcelain tub for support. Finally, after much struggling, she found herself ready to bring it up around her hips.

At this point, Marie took a break to prepare herself for the various devices in the crotch of the suit. Using a towel rack for balance, she lowered herself onto her knees, spread wide as she reached down into the latex crotch. She probed and twisted the material in the costume, and noticed some features she hadn’t seen before.

First, she found what felt like a slot in the latex beneath her clitoris, which she quickly realized was meant to hold her piercing. Behind that, she felt a loose flap of latex, textured with odd bumps and thicknesses, and behind that was the dreaded plug. Fiddling with the flap in the middle, she looked down to see that it was a vaginal sheath, complete with slots for her labia to fit into.

Moaning with humiliation, Marie worked the rubber sheaths into and around her sexual organs, the clitoral ring slipping into the slot with a soft snap. She felt the nubs on the sheath move within her as she pushed a finger up from the bottom. The sensation of the sheath around her finger pushed her arousal toward the pre-orgasmic plateau again, and she stopped suddenly with horror as she realized she was in danger of receiving another jolt of pain.

Grabbing the bottle of lube again, she smeared the last of it over the tail’s plug and her virgin sphincter. Taking a deep breath to calm herself down, she leaned forward and began to work the prong up against her anus. The task took her the better part of half an hour, largely because she was tense and excited. It didn’t help that she was constantly worried that any further arousal would bring punishment, and she found the full feeling of the plug’s insertion extremely naughty and exciting.

At long last, she felt her muscles tighten around the narrow base of the plug, the filling sensation at its peak. Marie took a moment to catch her breath and stretch her lower back and thigh muscles a bit, amazed at how her anal muscles seemed to work against themselves, pushing the plug outward while her sphincter clutched its narrow neck firmly.

After a short break, she worked the latex garment up over her ass and pulled it up to her breasts. She fumbled with the rear lacing on the midsection before realizing that it was almost identical to the chastity corset she had put on a few days ago. A set of laces threaded through hooks to allow the rear edges to be laced together. Once they met, however, a system of latches and clasps would lock the corset about her waist until… hmmm…

Marie looked for a release catch, or a circular lock like the one that Angie had used to open the other corset for her. Nothing resembling a release mechanism was visible anywhere on the suit, but Marie realized she was short on time.

Tethering the laces to a hook on the bathroom door, she leaned forward and exhaled as much as possible. As her abdomen constricted, she felt the presence of the plug in her rear more distinctly. Working for several minutes, she wondered if the costume’s cincher wasn’t an inch or two smaller than the one she had been punished in. Finally, after much straining and tugging, she heard the clickety-clack of the ratcheting mechanism seal her in.

Working as much of the remaining lube as she could back over her arms, she slipped her hands into the gloves of the suit, feeling the excess air vent through the chrome claw attachments on the fingernails. Careful not to tear the suit, she slipped the built-in hood over her head, the only openings showing at the eyes and jaw. Satisfied that it was all on smoothly, she grabbed the collar that dangled from the zipper tag at her tail and pulled it up to the back of her neck, fastening it about her throat.

Marie turned to look at herself in the mirror, striking a pose in her demented catwoman costume.

“I look dead sexy.” she thought to herself, “In fact, I look like a sex toy!” She traced a claw over the erect nipple and ring shape poking out through the pert rubber breast, and looked aghast at the rubber form of her crotch.

Between her legs, the outline of her pussy lips and clitoral piercing were made more obvious by the rubber sheaths that contained them. It was as though her narrow waist made her hips and cunt look twice as big. Rummaging through the box the costume came in, she found a wide chrome belt made of several segments linked together. It felt somewhat heavy, and Marie frowned as she arranged it on her hips, not satisfied that it covered her indecency as well as she’d like.

Reaching into the box again, she pulled out a bottle of red liquid latex with instructions printed on it. She painted her lips with the stuff, doing her best to ignore the smell as it dried. After two coats, the damage she had done to her lips while tearing off the gag the other day was completely hidden.

Marie sprayed polish all over her rubber body, and gave her lips a bit of a wet-look shine as well. Satisfied with the results, she made faces in the mirror, her bright red lips and green eyes sparkling from inside the glossy black catwoman head.

She played with the belt some, and found that a couple of the compartments opened without much trouble if she slipped a metal claw into them. She packed her housekey, some money, and a couple other necessities into the utility belt and walked downstairs to the front door.

Walking in the paw-hooves took some getting used to, but what really unnerved Marie was the tail. The tail bent upward as it left her anus, and seemed to have some sort of segmented air pockets inside it. As her muscles tensed and relaxed against the plug, the tail swished from side to side like a real cat’s. Walking was extremely distracting, as she could feel the plug’s center of gravity shift as she swayed her hips.

She soon ignored this development as she heard her taxi honk outside. Taking as deep a breath as she could, Marie stepped outside, closed her front door, and ran to the cab.

A New Thrall for Steed

Catwoman Marie sashayed down the front walk as briskly as her paw-boots would allow. She opened the rear door of the taxi and stepped inside, a vision of glossy black latex.

“Lemme guess: Castro street party?” Her taxi driver was a heavy-set bearded man in a large sailor suit.

Marie did not reply, her eyes bulging as the tail, squeezed between her back and the car seat, inflated suddenly within her. Gathering her composure, she just smiled and handed him the card with the address on it.

“Hmmm, that’s gunna be tough from here what with all the streets closed. I’ll have to take Divis. around to where I can cross Market, is that okay?” Marie just looked out the window and nodded, irritated that all San Francisco taxi drivers seem to want to get the rider’s opinion on the best route.

The ride was uneventful, if circuitous. Several competing neighborhood costume parties provided plenty of visual entertainment for Marie, and she was startled when the taxi pulled into a narrow SoMa alleyway and stopped. She handed the driver a large bill and left the cab without a word, strutting into a dark brick archway as her tail flicked behind her.

A young man in a bellhop outfit ushered her into a large cage-like service lift, swinging the accordion door closed and squeezing the controls to go up. Marie imagined herself kept in a wire mesh cage, the ferocious wildcat of Hamburg. She’d be kept on display at the zoo, and people would pay admission to see her tear gashes in her trainer’s uniform.

The lift whined its way up to the top floor, and the young man slid open the gate to let Marie out again. She stalked down a long hallway and reached a heavy iron door. Reaching up, she pulled on a wooden handle attached to a chain dangling from the ceiling. A tinkling bell sounded from the other side of the door, and a pair of eyes emerged from behind a tiny rectangular slot.

She did her best to smile and look as though she belonged, and the slot slid shut again. With a clang, the iron door swung inward, leading into a dim candle-lit gathering.

Marie tiptoed on her velveted rubber paws into what appeared to be someone’s loft apartment. All around her, she spotted men and women in various rubber and leather costumes, each with an identity-concealing mask of some sort.

“Ah, you must be the new thrall. We were told you’d be coming as a cat, but I must say your costumer has outdone himself!” Marie turned quickly to find the source of the voice: a tall, slender, film-noir femme fatale leaned against a pillar, one knee bent beneath her long red rubber evening gown. Her arms were clad in opera-length red rubber gloves, and between her gummy fingers she balanced a long cigarette holder. Her black hair hung in a bob, her wide bangs resting atop a red rubber domino mask that matched the shade of her ruby lips perfectly.

The lanky woman took a sip of smoke from her cigarette and puffed a perfect ring into the air between them. “Welcome to the party, little one. Most of the guests have yet to arrive, but I’m sure they’ll all want to meet you. We haven’t had a new thrall at our gatherings in ever so long.”

Marie cleared her throat, trying not to appear nervous. “Um, what exactly do you mean by ‘thrall’?”

The lady in red straightened up and creased her lips in an amused smirk, “Oh yes, they’ll definitely want to meet you, little one.”

Marie frowned as the woman slinked off toward the bar, thinking that perhaps she needed a drink herself. She always hated going to parties where she didn’t know anyone. Here it seemed, her reputation preceded her, and she wasn’t sure that was the best thing.

“Cosmo?” A man in a leather three-piece suit and bowler hat held out a martini glass filled with a pink fluid. Marie looked up at his black rubber domino mask, and smiled as she took the drink.

“Thank you, that would be perfect.” she sighed, “I’m afraid I’m at a loss. I don’t know anyone here, you see, and…”

“Oh, that’s really the point!” the man’s green eyes sparkled behind his mask, “Nobody here knows who anyone else is. Perhaps we’re all strangers, or maybe we met before. We could be reincarnations of lifelong companions or old pets! Don’t worry, my dear, there are plenty of icebreakers planned. A gathering like this really needs structure, wouldn’t you say?”

“Ah, oh…” Marie stammered a bit, sipping her drink, “Yes, yes, I suppose that’s good. Erm, what should I call you then, if we’re not supposed to know who everybody is?”

The man reached up with a menacing looking steel umbrella and pushed the brim of his hat up a little. “Steed. John Steed. Sorry I couldn’t find anything in pinstripe, but I came in rubber last year.”

Marie giggled, remembering her days of watching The Avengers dubbed into German, always relishing the scenes where Mrs. Peel or Kathy Gale were bound and tormented by some criminal mastermind.

“Ah, come with me, my dear. The first activity is about to begin.” Steed took her clawed hand in the crook of his shoulder and led her down into the main floor of the loft. Marie looked around at the crowd and realized that they were all dressed as heroes and villains from comic books and spy series.

“Ladies and gentlemen! Masters, mistresses, slaves, and thralls! The first competition is about to begin!” A man dressed as The Joker waved his purple pork-pie hat around for emphasis as he announced the event. Standing behind him was a girl in a red and black latex Harley Quinn costume, a leash strap running from her chin down to the Joker’s left hand. In her hands she held a small metal gong and mallet, which she used to punctuate the magician’s cries and get the crowd’s attention.

“Since our theme this year is heroes and villains, the first competition is a classic! This building was once a stockhouse for the Southern Pacific Railroad, and we’ve always been meaning to make use of the leftover supplies.” He released the leash and Quinn walked over to a vinyl curtain and pulled it back, revealing a room covered in winding sections of railroad track. “So pair up and grab a bundle!”

The crowd murmur rose as couples began to choose and head into the room. Steed turned to Marie and smiled, gesturing inquisitively. She nodded hesitantly, and followed him into the track room. As they passed through the curtain, Steed grabbed a neatly-tied bundle of hemp rope, and fussed with it as he spoke.

“I think the best bet is to grab a curved section of track. I have an idea that ought to have them all kicking themselves!” Steed was like a little boy, excited with anticipation of the results of his clever idea.

“Oh, um, sure. Er, what exactly are we doing?” Marie scanned the room, and saw all the women in the party laying across or along the tracks, while the men unwound the bundles of rope they had picked up earlier.

“A classic scene: the damsel in distress! Bound to the railroad tracks, with the 10:30 local barreling down the right-of-way completely unawares! Now my dear Catwoman, I realize that you are the villain in our little team, but tradition demands that you be the one to lay across the rails. Allow me.”

Marie furrowed her brow beneath the rubber cowl as she was assisted in laying down in a C-shaped section of track. He turned out to be quite quick and adept with the rope, binding her right wrist to the top of the outer rail, and her left ankle to the bottom. He connected her other arm and knee to the center of the smaller C of the inner rail in front of her, and connected a line from the center of the outer rail to provide tension on her waist, pulling her taut.

“If only you could see yourself! The feline rampant, awaiting her doom!” Marie rolled her eyes as he tugged her into an uncomfortable shape, immobile on the frame of steel and wood. She was thankful that he had positioned her somewhat on her side, so that her tail curled behind her.

“So what–oof!” Marie gasped as the waist rope was pulled even tighter against her corset’s cinchpoint, “What exactly is the prize for the best display?”

“It looks to be a bottle of champagne, which I would love to share with a beautiful woman such as yourself. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are a few details I must attend to. But don’t worry, I’ll be back, true to form, to whisk you away in the nick of time!” He winked playfully and walked away. Leaving Marie craning her neck to try and see what else was going on. She saw a woman dressed like Aeon Flux and a man dressed in a Spawn costume going over each damsel in distress with clipboards and pens.

“Welllll…” hissed a gravely voice behind Marie’s head, “It lookss like thiss evening we have a new thrallll!” Marie turned her head as far as possible, and saw a short busty girl in a white catsuit and high-heeled go-go boots squatting on the rail behind her. Her yellow eyes had vertical almond-shaped pupils like a cat’s, and her face was made up expertly with a snout and whiskers. She glared down at Marie with envy and contempt.

“Excuse me?” Marie craned her neck, trying to make out the expression on the white catgirl behind her. “What exactly is a ‘thrall’… around here?”

The catgirl extended a white gloved hand, tracing an elongated plastic fingernail down the pit of Marie’s taut right arm. “Mmmm, you are a fresh little piece of new meat now aren’t you?” Her nail ran over the curve of Marie’s breast, tripping over the raised outline of the jeweled nipple ring. “A fresh little thrall like you must have been awfully naughty to get the three-rings treatment so early in your training!”

Marie went from suspicious to nervous. “What training? Who are you?”

“Here, I’m the favorite!” the catgirl giggled, “And I worked very hard to catch the attention of Jack Gummi so that I could wear one of his creations tonight. I didn’t spend eight months greasing the wheels just to have some greenhorn slave blunder into my party with a newer model and steal the spotlight.”

Marie looked back over at the judges, who were still working on the other side of the room, taking notes and sharing jokes with the bound women on the floor around them. She turned back to the white cat above her.

“I don’t know how you got that outfit, girlie, but you have no right! Ah! I think this is just the accessory I was looking for!” To Marie’s horror, the catgirl reached out her clawed hands and unclasped her utility belt. She pulled the metal belt from Marie’s hips and fastened it around her own, letting it hang in front of her furry crotch.

“No! Give it back!” Marie cried, horrified. Twisting her neck again, she saw the judges still busy two rows away, seemingly oblivious to her problems.

“Mmm, yes, that’s purrrrfect!” the white catgirl cooed, “But you know what I love most about Jack’s designs?” She picked up Marie’s black rubber tail, which was twisting back and forth as Marie struggled against the rails. “It’s his insistence on functionality!”

As she spoke, she twisted Marie’s tail between her white clawed hands, wringing air out of the elaborate rubber tube and pumping up Marie’s rear plug with each squeeze. “Enjoy your Jack Gummi creation, dear. I hope you find pleasure from the parts I let you keep.”

Marie gasped at the sensation of the plug swelling quickly within her, and screwed up her face beneath her mask. By the time she caught her breath, she turned over to see a white catsuited girl in a silvery utility belt strut out through a doorway, her white tail flicking back and forth as she walked.

“Help! Heeeelp! My utility belt!” Marie wailed, aware of her obscene rubber cunt lips exposed for public view. “Please! Somebody heeeeeelp!”

“My my, this is an interesting twist!” Marie looked up, panting, to see Aeon Flux and Spawn standing above her, making marks on their clipboards.

“Oh please, you have to help me. She took my belt, and I have to get it back! Please! She just left through that door behind me! Just get me my belt back!”

Aeon turned to Spawn. “I think she’s my favorite so far!”

“Agreed!” The man nodded behind his colorful rubber hood. “I always thought real supervillains were fools for letting Batman keep his utility belt when they trapped him. It’s a nice twist to have Catwoman’s belt taken from her!”

“Full marks for roleplaying!” Aeon cheered as she checked off various things.

The two judges turned away and finished working the room. Marie whimpered and pleaded, but no one took any notice. After a few minutes, there was a commotion on the other side of the room, followed by cheers and applause. Marie shifted as best she could to ease her tired muscles, and was relieved to see various people untying the victims around her.

“Well my dear, they loved your performance so much, they gave us first place! Congratulations!” Marie looked up to see Steed down on one knee before her, a bottle of Krystal in one hand and a pair of champagne flutes in the other.

“Oh, Steed! While you were gone! This other cat girl, she–” Marie tried to explain, but the loud report of the erupting cork startled her into clenching her sphincter. She winced as the tail shot out straight behind her.

“Here you go, my dear pretty kitty. Drink up! You deserve it!” Marie opened her eyes to see that Steed held a glass to her red rubber lips, and was pouring it gently into her mouth. Marie drank thirstily, the bubbles flowing through her mind and easing her concerns that she seemed to be the only damsel still in distress.

“Well Catwoman, you appear to have made a hit for your first party. They’re saying that you’re the new favorite!” Steed sipped from his own glass and poured another for Marie. Behind him, a rubber spiderman took photographs from various angles with an expensive-looking camera while a woman in a leather Captain Hook outfit held a reflecting screen.

“That’s what the white catgirl said… the favorite…”

“Mmmm? Who?” Steed mumbled into his glass as he drank.

“I kept trying to explain! This girl in a white costume sort of like mine–she took my utility belt and ran off through that door behind me! She said she was the favorite, and that’s why she stole it. It has my house key and everything in it. Please, can’t you get it back for me?”

A boyish grin spread across Steed’s face. “A quest for the modesty of a beautiful pussycat maiden? Why, I’d leap at the very opportunity!” At the word ‘leap’, he sprang to his feet and hopped jauntily through the doorway.

“No! Wait!” Marie craned her neck toward the empty doorway, shaking her limbs against the ropes. Spiderman took the opportunity to stand over her and take several close-up photos.

“You forgot to untie me…” Marie sighed as the shutter clicked and whirred above her.

A Most Important Apple

Marie sighed, wiggling in her bonds to relieve muscle strain. The party had moved on to another part of the building, and even the photographers had packed up and left. Marie had tried to get them to untie her, but they paid no attention. She looked over at the half-empty bottle of champagne and groaned in frustration.

As the minutes passed, she wondered if Steed would ever come back for her. As her thoughts about him began to swing over to the randy side, she realized that she was decidedly turned on by her predicament. She still hadn’t come after her prolonged masturbation session earlier in the day, and the combination of the champagne, the bondage, the plug in her tail, the loose studded sheath in her pussy, and some indiscernible sensations coming from her piercings had her in a state of definite need.

And then she felt an itch in her right foot, which was bound to the rail in front of her by the knee. She groaned and fussed with her left hand, also bound to the rail in front of her, in an attempt to adjust the rubber legging of her catsuit enough to make friction against the itchy spot.

She managed to move the suit a little, but only by virtue of the fact that she had lubricated her legs thoroughly before putting them in the shaped paw- boots. Marie gasped and let her hand fall slack in its bonds again, noticing that a few threads of the twisted hemp around her knee were frayed and sticking out.

Startled, she looked at her fingers, the metallic silver fingernail claws glistening. Somehow, the tips were rounded and made blunt, so that she could pinch the rubber of her suit without causing damage. Underneath, however, was a thin rough edge just small enough to be out of the way. If she got the right angle, she realized she might be able to cut the rope.

Reaching and twisting, Marie finally slipped a claw between two strands and began sawing. For a few minutes it seemed as though she were getting nowhere. Quickly, however, she began to see threads of hempen twine curl and snap. A minute later, she moaned with relief as she snapped a key string and tugged her knee loose.

Stretching her right leg with gusto, she soon began work on the ropes around the rail that held her hand. This took a bit longer, but in time she had her left hand and right leg free, and rolled over on her back to release her right arm.

Soon she was kneeling on the railroad ties, massaging her shoulder and neck and sipping champagne thoughtfully. Looking down, she frowned as she saw her unprotected rubber crotch dangling its obscene labial sheaths and showcasing her clit ring. She felt more than naked, especially with the tail’s plug filling her and making her conscious of her most tender flesh as she walked.

Picking up the bottle of champagne, Marie held it in front of her pubic area and walked through the door that Steed and the white catgirl had left through earlier. She walked down a long hall decorated with bizarre fetish photography and artwork, trying all the doorknobs she could find. Finally, after turning a corner, she found a door at the end of the hall that was unlocked.

Opening it, she stepped into a small brick room where several partiers were filling up a barrel with water.

“Ah, Catwoman. You’re just in time to go bobbing for apples!” Marie turned suddenly to see Steed behind the closing door. She jumped back and held the bottle close to her body.

“Uh… My belt…” Marie whispered weakly, “Did you find it yet?”

Steed gestured to the crowd gathered around the barrel. In front of them, standing on a crate of some sort, was the white catgirl.

“The rules are simple! Each person gets one minute to grab an apple from the barrel without using his or her hands. The first person to pull an apple from the barrel…” She held up a silver segmented belt. “…wins the prize!”

Marie turned to Steed in horror, her jaw slack. “Oh, that’s marvelous, my dear!” Steed chirped, “With a jaw like that you ought to have no trouble getting your belt back!”

“I thought you said you would get it back for me!” Marie pouted, disappointed in her charming host.

“And I shall. But if you fail at this game, I’m going to have a much harder time of it!”

Marie’s attention turned back to the barrel as a player was announced. A woman dressed as Peter Pan stepped up to the challenge. The white catgirl pulled her elbows behind her and placed cuffs on both her wrists and elbows. Pan moved up to the tank, and when the whistle blew began thrashing at the water with her face, bending at the hips and coughing in the excitement. Apples bounced along the surface of the water for one minute, and then the whistle sounded again. Before Marie could react, a man in a Green Lantern costume stepped up to have his arms secured.

“Steed, you have to help me!” Marie pleaded as the whistle blew.

Steed smiled down at Marie and stroked her rubber cowl tenderly. “Very well then, my dear, but you had best sign up to go after me in case I fail.”

Steed took off his jacket and walked forward as the whistle blew again, allowing the catgirl to bind his arms behind him. For one minute he thrashed at the apples, trying to grab each one. Marie’s spirits sank as the catgirl blew the whistle to signify his failure. Hands shaking, she stepped forward and waited for the catgirl to remove the cuffs from Steed’s arms.

“Something screwy’s going on here…” Steed mumbled under his breath, glaring at the barrel. Marie didn’t get a chance to ask what it was that he found “screwy”, because the catgirl had spun her around and was busy cuffing her wrists and elbows together behind her back.

“Well well… You just couldn’t get enough of me, could you?” she hissed, snapping Marie’s elbow cuffs with a metal carabiner. This is your big chance, now isn’t it? If you don’t give me a juicy red apple in one minute, you lose your precious little belt forever. I wonder if the agency will penalize you for losing it. I’m sure your Mistress will punish you severely. Good luck, thrall!”

With that, the catgirl blew the whistle, starting the clock before Marie had even stepped over to the barrel. Stumbling forward, she leaned into the water and began biting at the red fruit.

After twenty seconds of thrashing, she began to see what Steed had noticed. Some of the apples moved just a little too easily, and her teeth grazed over them without gaining purchase. Standing up, she noticed that only one had actually lost any peel at all, on the far side of the tub.

Leaning in, she guided it toward her side of the barrel with her chin. When she thought she had it in a good position, she raised herself a little and quickly thrust down, biting hard. Her luck changed, and she found her teeth sunk deep into the only real apple in the game.

Pulling it out, however, turned out to be more difficult. Marie tried to straighten her back, but she felt something pulling at the apple in her mouth. Twisting her head, she saw two strips of stretchy red material pulling from either side of the fruit down to the bottom of the tank.

Frustrated, she heaved against the rubber tether. She was sure that she had only a few seconds left. Finally, with a loud splash, the straps came loose from the bottom of the tank and smacked Marie on the cheeks. She staggered backward on her heelless boots and fell backward flat on her ass.

Marie’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets as she landed. Her bound arms managed to cushion her fall somewhat, but she managed to squeeze nearly all of the air out of her tail and into her plug. Wheezing around the apple in her mouth, she rolled onto her knees and worked to catch her breath.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a winner!” Steed called out. The catgirl, having none of this, began to make a break for the door, belt in hand.

“Oh, that’s not going to happen!” Steed cooed, grabbing the white tail in his hand and slowly wrapping it around his fist as the catgirl screeched. He twisted it until the bulge began to show between her cheeks, and she bent over in pain, swatting at his hands. Steed quickly tied the tail into a crude knot.

“I believe this belongs to someone else, my dear.” He plucked the silver utility belt from her hand and gave her rear a swat as she crawled out of the room in shame.

“MMphg. Nghhhhhn!” Marie gasped through the apple in her teeth. She had bit so deeply that she couldn’t open her mouth again, and she was close enough to the core that she couldn’t just bite through the rest of it. With her arms cuffed behind her back, the apple just stuck in her jaw, two ragged rubber bands hanging from the sides.

“My my, you are in a fix, aren’t you Catwoman?” Steed laughed. Marie just chuckled a little and batted her eyelashes at him. There was a moment of stillness between them, and Marie suddenly felt the ring in her clit hood move a little as her flesh swelled behind it.

Steed dropped to one knee and swooped her up in his arms. Without breaking eye contact, he carried her over to a plush chair shaped like a high-heeled shoe and sat down, positioning her on his lap. He reached up and tied the rubber straps from the apple around the back of Marie’s head, causing her to roll her eyes back and flutter her eyelids.

The next thing Marie knew, the front flap of Steed’s trousers was down, and the tip of his penis was poking against her pierced clit through the rubber costume. He traced it up over the suit’s exaggerated labia and pushed the glans gently into the studded sheath that was stuffed inside of her.

Marie simply threw her head back and moaned, as Steed gently and slowly pushed himself into her. As he slid back and forth, the studs tickled Marie’s sensitive insides and sent waves of warm glowing pleasure through her shivering black-coated body. Her rubber genitalia transmitted sensations through to her body, even the playful tweaking and twisting of her erect nipples felt like sucking and nibbling through the rubber and lubricant.

As their gyrations reached a fever pitch, Steed leaned forward and bit into the apple she held between her teeth. Using his neck muscles, he swung Marie from side to side, forcing her to shift her hips to maintain balance. Their eyes locked, and for a moment he held her still. With a snarl, he bit down and chewed off a bite from his side of the fruit, and began bucking wildly.

Marie had been so on-edge the whole evening that she felt herself close to orgasm again. She threw her head back and sucked air through her nose, ready to come.

But it was not to be. Jolts of punishment stabbed at her breasts and clitoris, causing her to jump up off of Steed’s tool quickly and curl up in a whimpering ball at his feet.

“There, there.” He cooed, running his fingers behind the ears of her hood. “Perhaps that’s just not what they want you to do just yet. Here, I bet this will help…” Steed untied the rubber straps from behind her neck and pulled the apple out from her teeth. Holding her by the elbow cuffs, he positioned her head above his still-stiff member.

Marie felt a tingle of pleasure surge at her piercings again as her slick latex lips kissed the tip. She stuck out her tongue and licked it tentatively, and began sucking in earnest as the rings in her flesh responded with positive reinforcement.

Bobbing her head up and down, she began to take him in deeper and deeper, each stroke pushing back further in her mouth. Her breathing hit a rhythm as she began to swallow him into her. Finally he twitched, and shot load after load of warm come onto her tongue. At that moment, the pleasure from the rings finally pushed Marie into orgasm, and she swallowed so quickly that she began coughing.

The two collapsed with a sigh, spent. Marie curled up at Steed’s feet, her arms still cuffed behind her. Steed leaned back in the shoe-chair and idly stuffed his manhood back into his leather trousers.

“Mmmm, that was lovely.” Steed sighed, stroking Marie’s rubber-coated scalp with the tips of his fingers.

“Thank you, Sir.” Marie whispered, nuzzling his shoes with her nose as his odor and taste lingered in her head.

“Since you have been such a charming companion this evening, and since it is your birthday,” Marie looked up suddenly as Steed mentioned her birthday. “Oh yes, the agency told me a few things about you. Mostly meaningless statistics, but enough to pique my interest.”

“Agency?” Marie scowled, her warm feelings for Steed acquiring a bit of an edge as she realized that he had her at a disadvantage not just because of her bondage.

“Of course, you have questions. I can’t answer all of them, I’m afraid. However, you have earned yourself a little birthday present.” Steed reached down to the floor and picked up Marie’s utility belt, strapping it around her hips. Taking hold of her thumbs behind her back, he slipped them into slots in one of the rear segments. He reached into his hatband and pulled out a silvery chip shaped like a guitar pick.

As he slipped the device into the belt segment behind her back, it sprang open. Steed pulled out a laminated card and a small key, holding them up in front of Marie’s face.

“It looks to be directions to a storage locker building on South Van Ness.” Steed read off the card, “If you use this key to open locker number 403 and then follow directions, your Mistress will communicate with you.”

Marie’s heart skipped a beat. “Mistress?” She looked up into Steed’s eyes, confused, “Then you’re not… I mean, she’s a…”

Steed looked down sympathetically at the stuttering slavegirl kneeling at his feet. “No, my dear. I am just a beneficiary of her fine services.”

“Then, you’ve met? You know her?”

Steed shook his head, his eyes closed. “At this point, you know all that I know.”

“But you talked about an agency. What is that?”

“They contacted me, and commissioned my services. I’m afraid I can’t say much more until we are both unmasked.”

Marie shrank back at the thought of being unmasked in front of the entire crowd, especially after they had seen her bound to the rails with her rubber- sheathed pussy splayed for their view. She writhed a bit in her elbow and wrist cuffs uncomfortably, trying without success to get used to the idea.

“I can see the thought of the unmasking does not appeal to you just yet.” Steed sighed as he looked down at the card and key he held.

“N-no, Sir.” Marie hung her head apologetically. “Is that bad?”

“I would have loved to see the pretty face behind that cowl, but you may be relieved to know that there is another option.” Marie looked up as Steed explained. “The unmasking is meant to keep us all even. First none of us know each other, and then we all do. It would be unfair for someone to stay masked but learn everyone’s identity.”

“Therefore, anyone who wishes to remain in cognito must wear a blindfold, to prevent that unfair advantage from appearing.” Steed stood and grabbed Marie by the link between her elbow cuffs, helping her to her unsteady feet on the teetering paw-shoes. “If we hurry, we can get you a blindfold before midnight.”

Marie wobbled as she balanced as best she could on the teetering heelless paws without using her arms. “Please, could you release my arms, Steed?”

Steed smiled and ran his hand down the front of Marie’s costume, running his finger in circles around her nipple. “No. I think it does wonderful things for your posture. Besides, I think I will enjoy having a bound catslave for another couple of hours.”

Pressing the card and key into Marie’s hands, Steed reached into his waistcoat and pulled out a leather leash. “I realize it’s more appropriate for a dog than a cat, but we all improvise now and again.” With a few tugs, he led her back into the heart of the party.

They emerged into a large central room where a woman in a rubber straitjacket and leg-binder was suspended upside-down over a tank of red water, the chain slowly lowering her each second. Steed pulled Marie over to the bar, where he shouted something at the barmaid, who was dressed in a full latex Wonder Woman costume. Taking something from her, he turned back to Marie.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!” The crowd chanted, as people reached up to take hold of their masks and hoods, loosening laces and unbuckling straps.

“Seven! Six! Five!” Steed fiddled with the black strap in his hands as the woman hanging from the chain dangled dangerously close to the tank, grey dorsal fins swimming around just above the surface of the red water.

“Four! Three! Two!” All light was blocked out suddenly as two round woolly pads were pressed against Marie’s eyes. She felt steed buckle a strap around the back of her head, and another over the top and under her chin.

“One! Midnight!” The crowd cheered, and Marie heard the sound of rubber squeaking off heads, and masks and straps falling to the floor. Everyone laughed as splashing and thrashing sounds emanated from the other room, followed by some sounds like plastic tubes bouncing on the floor.

“What happened?” Marie shouted, not sure where her escort stood any more.

“The sharkmen threw mannequin parts out of the tank when she fell in.” a voice shouted from her left.

The murmur of the crowd rose to an indiscernible din as people cried out in recognition of their friends and colleagues. Marie swam in confusion as she felt people bump against her, her leash occasionally tugging her this way or that. At one point she was sure she felt it drop loose in front of her, hanging down at her knees.

Eventually, she found herself being led through the room, the leash pulling roughly as the sounds of the crowd disappeared behind her. The sounds of a heavy metal door echoed behind her, and she soon realized that she was in the building’s elevator again.

“Ground floor.” A female voice hissed.

“Steed? Hello?” Marie called out, helpless. The ride to the ground floor was silent. She soon felt herself being pulled outside into the alleyway.

“Well, thrall, you seem to have won yourself a little victory today.” Marie realized with horror that the voice belonged to the white catgirl. Her struggles against the elbow cuffs began again in earnest, helpless little moans of frustration echoing off the brick buildings. She almost didn’t notice the laminated card and the locker key fall to the ground behind her.

“Do you know how difficult it was to loosen the tail enough to untie the knot? I had to inflate the plug even wider just to get a nail into it!”

“Please!” Marie mewed, “Untie me! Let me go! Steed! Steeeeed!”

“Oh, he’s still upstairs, no doubt looking for you. Since he isn’t here, I’ll happily stand in for him. Now let’s see… what is it he usually does?” Marie felt her plug begin to swell, and her hands flung about behind her as her tail was wrung out completely and tied into a crude knot near the base. Marie began to crouch down as the swollen plug forced her to bend over at her hips, the plug pushing at her from the inside and her corset squeezing her belly from the outside.

“Stoooooop!” Marie sobbed, her teeth gritted against the pressure.

“Oh, you suffer so prettily, little thrall! For that, I’ll let you keep your silly belt. You do, however, still have something of mine, and Mistress would punish me horribly if she found out I’d lost them.” Marie would have sighed with relief as her wrist and elbow cuffs were undone, but the tension at her behind held her attention. The moment she had the ability, she began to fumble at the tight latex knot, ignoring her blindfold as a distant second on her list of priorities.

“If I ever see you again, thrall, I’ll strap you down and lash you fiercely while you eat me out to a dozen orgasms. Keep that in mind!” Marie yelped as her distended bottom was slapped a few times, and she heard the catgirl walk across the brick alleyway and back into the building.

After several minutes of useless fumbling, Marie finally remembered the catgirl’s words and squeezed the base of the tail enough to finally pick at the knot until it loosened. She groaned as her achey muscles finally squeezed the air back into the tail; and realized that despite (or perhaps because of) the fear and abuse, her pussy was again slick and wet.

In a few moments, she had undone the straps on the blindfold and opened her eyes to the bright glare of a pair of headlights. She squinted into them as she heard a horn toot twice. The engine rattled to life and the yellow cab slowly pulled up alongside her.

“How long were you waiting there?” Marie stammered as she saw the familiar sailor-suited taxi driver.

“Eh, half an hour. I was taking a smoke break. Someplace I can take you, or are you gunna go back in and finish the catfight?”

Marie frowned and looked down at the card and key at her feet. “No, I think now I’m ready to go find some answers.” She scooped up the two items and read the address to the driver as she stepped into the cab, the sudden subtle inflation of her plug no longer surprising her stretched anus as she sat back in the seat.

Cat on a Hot Tin Grid

Answers. Here I might find some, Steed had told me as he gave me the key and explained me the way to his storage room. Yes, a few answers would be very welcome. Questions I had enough by now.

After the party noise the hallway seemed strangely quiet. My cat paws did not disturb the silence at all. What a clever designed costume, I thought once again. My feet did hurt a little but I was able to walk quite elegantly by now – result of a long evening’s training. I looked over the neighborhood which finally came to rest. Dawn was not very far. First of November – my birthday 364 days away again. This definitely was the strangest birthday party I ever had experienced.

The room was the very last one in the uppermost floor. I turned the key in the door and it slid silently open. The room was empty but for a foot-high pedestal in the middle. All walls covered with mirrors made it look as if it had no limits. I stepped in and stumbled. Only now I noticed the steady grid which covered the whole floor three inches above the ground. I carefully stepped on it. It was safe to stand on as the filaments were less than an inch apart. I was standing on a fine net of metal wires which only slightly gave way to my weight.

The door slid shut behind be. I was standing in the dark, but only for a moment. The grid on the floor started to glow in a very low but warm orange color. I turned around and saw that the inside of the door was covered with mirror too. I was alone and still accompanied by an endless number of catwomen dressed exactly like me. I moved forward and reached the pedestal. There was a narrow bench fixed to the middle of it, another foot high, two feet long and six inches wide, with some items carefully arranged on it. One was a finely done cartoon on a catwoman dressed exactly like me crouching on her knees and elbows. At closer look it became obvious that she could not do otherwise as her ankles were attached to her thighs and her wrists to her shoulders by four conic sheaths, one for each limb.

The sheaths depicted on the cartoon lay next to it on the bench. Careful not to blow up my butt plug again I sat on the bench, pulled one leg up and slid one sheath over my bent up leg. It fit like a glove which somehow did not surprise me. To pull the tightly stretching rubber form off again took all my strength. The two smaller sheaths obviously were made for my arms, and they had the same locking mechanism as the chrome and steel corset I wore to my last working day. Should I? Somehow I knew that it would be the logic way to proceed. To perfect my costume. Or was it a costume? It actually felt nearly like a part of myself by now.

I pulled my left foot close to my thigh again and sheathed it again, then knelt and entrapped my right leg in the same way. There was a sort of metal plate covering my knee. Probably a protection if one would have to walk on these, which of course was nearly impossible. I thought. After a moment of hesitation I pulled the left arm sheath over my left elbow. There was a metal plate in there too. The familiar ratcheting of the closing mechanism, and my left palm was lying on my left shoulder, the wrist attached tightly to my upper arm. With a flap that I could conceal hand and shoulder.

The free limb that was left was my right arm. The sheath was lying with its opening facing upwards, invitingly. Like a mouth ready to welcome me if I decided to give up my freedom. With a deep sigh I bent my right arm too, leaned forward and pushed it all the way in. The ratcheting sounded somehow darker than with the left arm. I fell forward and now was indeed standing on my elbows and knees. The dozens of catwomen on all walls were doing exactly like me. I saw how well the sheaths matched with the costume. In the dim orange light no rim was visible.

The feeling was overwhelming. I was aroused and horny but that was not all, not even the most important. I felt happy. Truly happy. All nervousness, all worries about the lost job, the costs of the house seemed to have fallen off me like discarded egg shells. I felt as if I had caught a glimpse of the bottom of my own soul.

Vanity and pride were other feelings normally strange to me that I suddenly discovered in myself. I do not think of myself as a true beauty. Always found my body too skinny, busts too flat, skin too pale, hair too reddish. Now however, I felt the urge to contemplate my reflection more closely. I approached the edge of the pedestal, turned round, and with knees first managed to get down to the grid rather awkwardly. “The elegance of your movement is not yet catlike, Maria”, I smiled to myself, as I let all fours down and approached the nearest mirror. The threads of the grid gloomed in a stronger, lighter color where I touched them with my knees and elbows and pressed my weight down. I touched my reflection with my shoulder and meowed to myself, my breath fogging the chilly glass momentarily.

I lifted my left knee, adding pressure to my right one. I quickly brought the left one down again, as sharp pain went through my knee and up my inner thigh. What was this? The spots where my knees touched the grid now shone even brighter than before. The touch inflicted a stinging pain. I thrust my torso and shoulder up and backwards to relieve my elbows. But I had not swung fast and high enough and without any possibility to slow down I fell forward again on my elbows with all my weight. A piercing shriek, catlike, came from my lungs. By now the grid had lightened to yellow but the spots where I touched it were bright white. A short touch was tolerable but when I stayed where I was the pain became unbearable very quickly. I moved on. I crawled along the walls trying to keep the paws on the grid as short as possible. From every wall I was approaching a strange black and white cat was coming towards me. I moved a bit easier now but at the same time the effect of the grid – heat and electricity – was increasing. This led to a rather high pace and within minutes I was panting. Sweat was building on my forehead and in the bends of my elbows and knees.

Short rests now were punished severely. The good feeling had vanished. I nearly ran and leaped now, clumsily and awkwardly on the four limbs which were not constructed for walking. The clenching of my buttock muscles resulted in a permanent pumping of the butt plug but I hardly paid attention. The bench on the pedestal! Why had I not thought of it earlier? That had to be my rescue.

I crawled back to the middle of the room and lifted my forepaws on the wooden panel. At once my knees hurt badly but I managed to get them off the ground rather quickly. My poor limbs were hurting badly now although I had escaped from the grid. I felt like having escaped to an island from a sea of fire. The grid dimmed again, almost back to its original orange. I felt a bit lost. What now?

I took a closer look at the bench. It was not plain on the surface but slightly bent to all sides. I thought it might be a nice relief for my torso if I rested a bit on it. There even seemed to be cups for my breast cut into the wood and a support for my throat and forehead which would hold my head up and in vision of another of my reflections. In the deep point of the breast cups and on the lower end some round metal device would come to rest quite closely to my pussy. Four red padded cushions were situated conveniently at the sides of the bench. I accepted the opportunity. What a relief for my elbows and knees! I let my weight slump on the bench – with the combination of the rings of my body reacting immediately. They linked themselves and locked to corresponding valves in the bench which immediately took away all freedom of movement away form my body from the neck down – with the exception of a little tail wiggling. Now the same feeling as on the grid started again – only this time through the three rings, setting my nipples and clit in fire. I already guessed that again there would be some sort of relief, and given the last part of my body I could move I already guessed I would find the relief with my head. The thought alone seemed to have immediate effect as a tail-like structure started to slide out from the front panel of the bench – I saw it in the mirror – bent upwards up to the height of my head, then bent again until it touched my rubber lips waiting invitingly. I knew what to do and let them part. But the black rubber tail – tip suspiciously penis-like shaped – was holding still now. With some difficulty I was able to suck it into my mouth a bit. Immediate relief for the heat in the three rings was the result. I sucked harder and the reaction in the three rings was reduced to a warm, tingling, arousing touch. I let got of the rubber tail and the pain was back.

“Not hard to find out how it works, even after a long party night”, I sighed to myself and gave in. Sucking the dildo brought relief, even pleasure. Releasing it gave pain. Intense pain. So I sucked. Sucked harder. Sucked for all my life. An orgasm was building. I took it in deep. Orgasm rising. Took it in deeper. Increasing pleasure. Sucked it in till it touched the back of my throat. I gagged. The feeing of suffocating brought me over the edge. The most intense, crushing orgasm of my life had struck me. I felt I would faint. All went black.

Contact

Awash in waves of pleasure, Marie almost didn’t notice the lights dimming around her. With each slurp of her tongue against the black rubber tentacle in her mouth, she seemed to draw the very illumination from the room. Soon she was blinking her eyes to focus on the image of the fellating catwoman in the mirror before her–a difficult task when the pleasure kept sending them rolling back into her head.

Soon a pale glow began to emanate from behind the mirror in front of Marie. She suckled eagerly on the black rubber prong, watching the image of a computer screen come into focus. She watched as a program called “dasher” started up, and a mouse pointer appeared in the center of the screen, bobbing slightly as she sucked.

Marie soon realized that the rubber tail in her mouth controlled some sort of pointing device in the computer that was displaying its screen behind a two- way mirror. She could move the mouse over to the column of letters on the right hand side of the screen, and they would slip to the left to form words on the top of the screen. Instead of spaces, an underscore (_) would appear, and it seemed to be very clever at determining what words were most likely following other words.

After a few minutes of idly swinging her head around and writing about quick brown foxes and horny rubbergirls, she was startled to see yellow words appear along the black bottom border of the screen:

Hello slave.

Marie nudged the pointer to the h, and the word hello flowed naturally without much further head movement. She swung the pointer back to the center, feeling the rubber post against her right cheek.

Do you know who this is?

Marie paused, and then silently constructed the word mistress from the letters on the right.

Good girl.

Marie moaned, her nipples and clit tingling with satisfaction at the praise.

There was no further communication from the other side, so Marie spelled out where_are_you with the erotic joystick, her tongue still swirling around it.

I am not far, but you will not be allowed to see me until the time is right. Only once you are truly dominated will I reveal myself to you. You have been a good girl so far, and submitted yourself to my will when necessary. I am satisfied that you won’t repeat the mistake you made with the corset.

Marie grunted and shifted her weight on the bench, working a few kinks out of her neck. She began to work the dasher input screen more intuitively now, not thinking of it as anything but words she communicated to her mistress:

were_you_at_the_party_earlier

Yes, but you never saw me. I did enjoy your little sexual rendez-vous with Steed, however. If you please me, I may allow you to see him again sometime.

how_do_i_please_you

Good girl. You please me now by going to the agency for work. You will not receive any money, but the agency will handle all of your expenses. I realize that this is important since many of the contractors are waiting to be paid for some of the repair work done on your aunt’s house.

what_is_the_agency

They are an organization that handles the legal and administrative side of practical enslavement. Since this country forbids chattel slavery, they use debt structures and power of attorney to sign as much power over to me as possible. Once you are freed of these responsibilities, you will be a guest in my house.

i_lose_my_house

You will continue to live in it, and you will find it well kept for you. If you have any children, they will also be adopted by me and will thus become heirs to your old estate. You will be the house’s resident slave, and all responsibilities will be lifted from your shoulders.

Marie began to realize that the responsibility of maintaining the old Victorian was one of the things that she had never really felt comfortable with. Her aunt had done mostly interior work, and had let the structure fall apart some. Marie had never liked dealing with the contractors, and the permit process for what Americans considered to be historic architecture was a nightmare. In a way, she began to realize that she was relieved to no longer have to worry about it.

thank_you_mistress

Good girl. You will soon be fed, and then released. You will then head directly to the Agency for job preparation and assignment. I will allow you one final question.

what_do_you_want_from_me

I want your complete and total surrender, so that there can be no question about my stepping in and taking my rightful place in your life. You surrender a piece of yourself each time you make progress in your training. I want all of you. That is all.

The lights glowed dimly as the computer screen faded behind the mirror, and Marie began to see her tired eyes in the mirror yet again. Her weary jaw still slurped and sucked on the tail in her mouth, and her suckling gained a second wind as a salty-sweet gelatinous rice porridge emerged from it. She ate hungrily, having had nothing but champagne and semen the night before.

Once she had swallowed the mixture completely, the tail pulled itself from her rubber lips with a pop, retracting back into the bench. A series of clattering sounds marked the release of the mechanisms holding her arm sheaths on, and she massaged her shoulders and stretched her arms for the first time in what felt like hours.

Once she had the strength to push herself upright, she peeled the leg sheaths off and began to rub her aching knees through the rubber of her costume. She twisted her arms behind her back, trying to work some of the kinks out of her elbows, and thought back to the armbinder she wore while making love to Steed. Smiling, she tidied up the cell and put things back the way she had found them.

As Marie brought the vault’s garage-door opening down behind her, she heard a twang come from her hips. Looking down, she saw that one of the locked sections of her utility belt had sprung open, revealing a business card with nothing but an address printed on it.

She gazed out the fourth-floor window of the storage building, her mind blank as she watched the evening traffic on the streets below. She had been in the vault for the entire day, suckling on the mechanical prong for several hours. Marie felt calm, but not tired, she realized. It was not entirely unlike the feeling she had known when she was hypnotized by a stage magician at a school event.

Marie squinted, and realized that she could make out the location of the address on her card just a few blocks away. The subject of time again occurred to her, as she realized that Halloween had been over for nearly a day, making her erotic catwoman outfit even more conspicuous. The thought of encountering other people as she walked to the agency did not appeal to Marie, but she felt so detached that it did not truly bother her. Taking as deep a breath as she dared in her corseted, plugged, and fed state, she strutted to the elevator and stepped out into the night.

The evening winds bent around her frictionless body, but the chilly night seemed amplified by her suit. Marie hugged her chest with her arms, covering her obscenely erect nipples and the rings that now strained against the suit’s bosom. She shivered as the cold caused her to clench her tail straight out behind her.

It was a terrifying walk, the absence of pedestrians making Marie even more afraid. She looked down each alley and doorway tentatively, wondering how fast she could run in her heelless paw-boots. She reached the unmarked door of the Agency, and her fear of the trip gave way to dread. Once she stepped through that door, she was expected to sign her life away.

Shuddering with cold and anticipation, she pressed a chromed claw into the doorbell.

The Agency

Marie stepped into a small foyer, and was greeted by a cute looking professional young woman behind a large mahogany desk. The girl’s blonde hair was pulled up in a tight bun, and her face was framed with a pair of thick- rimmed harlequin glasses.

“Ah, you must be Marie.” the young woman smiled, “Welcome to the Enthrallment Talent Agency and Labor Exchange! I’ll just ring up for your caseworker now. Please, have a seat.”

Marie sat on the bench along the opposite wall, and winced as her tail squeezed beneath her yet again. The dry plug was now simply uncomfortable without even being stimulating. She watched the young secretary work, and wasn’t sure if she could hear the clinking of chains as she shifted in her seat.

After a few minutes, the blonde looked up at Marie and smiled again, “You may now go in. Climb to the top of the stairs and go through the third door on the left.” There didn’t seem to have been any sort of communication between her and anyone else in the organization, and Marie wondered if she had been made to wait simply for waiting’s sake.

Marie found the office easily enough, and opened the door to see the back of a stocky woman dressed in a puffy white blouse and high leather corset. She was working on the computer behind the desk, and had images of Marie in various states of bondage in her bedroom. Marie coughed slightly to get her attention, but the woman simply gestured over her shoulder at the armchair next to the door.

The chair was very large, made of solid redwood and padded with vinyl cushions in strategic places. It had a high back that almost reached the ceiling, but what was most interesting was the loops of wide leather that hung from the armrests and legs. Marie blinked, and looked over at the computer screen, noting shots of herself at the Halloween party and prancing on the pain-grid in the storage vault.

Sighing, Marie sat down on the chair and brought the large strap that was built into the back of the chair to rest around her waist. She slipped her paw-booted ankles through the large loops at the legs, and stuck her arms through the large straps on the armrests. She coughed again and waited.

The woman behind the desk seemed engrossed in her computer work, reading over what appeared to be a dossier on Marie’s enslavement. Marie could see photos of her house, complete with close-ups of remodeling work and before-and-after photos of her bedroom. She fiddled idly with the loose leather straps, feeling them give a little when she tugged hard.

Marie played with the straps, and realized that it felt as though there were weights attached to the ends of the arm straps. She was just strong enough to begin to lift them, but couldn’t do much of anything. After a few minutes of experimentation, she gave a quick tug to both armstraps at once.

The result startled Marie into a rapid panic. The weights she felt seemed to fall off of some sort of shelf and hang free, pulling all of the straps about her wrists, ankles, and waist tight with a sudden force. Marie howled out loud as the waist strap pulled her back against the wall, pressing her tail beneath her.

At the sound of Marie’s wail, the woman behind the desk spun slowly around. Marie was instantly distracted from the stretching in her raw anus as she looked at the woman’s face. She recognized, despite the mirrored sunglasses that covered her eyes, that she was looking at Angelica.

“Hello Marie. I’m so glad you decided to join our organization.” Angelica smirked, the corner of her mouth creased as she shuffled some papers on her desk.

“Oh Angie! Please! What is going on?” Marie burst out in tears, confused and frightened and suddenly realizing that she hadn’t been able to speak to her friend since their lunch date on the day she was laid off.

Angelica folded her hands in front of her on the desk. “I have been in charge of your case for a long time. Naturally, as your development progressed my part became less involved, but recently your Mistress contacted me and requested that I continue oversight.”

“You’ve met her?” Marie opened her puffy eyes wide behind her mask, but Angelica simply held up her hand to signal that she wasn’t finished.

“Yours is a somewhat unusual case, I suppose. You see, I incurred quite a considerable debt with Enthrallment, Inc. They have an incredible variety of enticing ways to earn it off, but it would seem that I was… unsuccessful.” Angelica picked up a photo of Marie fellating Steed off her desk and looked at it sadly.

“I realized,” Angelica continued, “that you were a perfect recruit. Your assets are considerable–enough to compensate for my debt–and your submission is a nearly textbook case for this organization.”

Marie’s lip trembled as her eyes teared in frustration and anger. “W-w..What did you do?”

Angelica stopped suddenly and gathered a stack of forms. Pressing her black lips together, she lifted herself to her feet and sashayed slowly around in front of her desk. Marie could see that the leather corset was in fact a knee- length corset dress, and padlocks ran down the front buckles where the retaining straps attached. Angelica jingled as she walked, which was with no small amount of difficulty since her feet were locked into painful-looking ballet shoes.

“There’s nothing to it, dearie.” Angelica placed the stack of forms on the chair arm and slipped a pen into Marie’s hand. “These put us in charge of the house’s renovations. This one co-signs the title deed to your Mistress and to the agency. This one here is for your personal property as assessed via my survey and your records, and this here defines the attic of the house as your sanctuary zone.

Marie looked at her reflection in Angelica’s sunglasses. “And what about you, Angie? What do you win from all this? Where’s your thirty pieces of silver?”

Angelica sighed again and leaned back against her desk. “I hope to be released from certain…” she placed her hand over the crotch of her corset-dress, as if to massage a sore muscle, “…obligations. I was not lying to you when I said that I have been through far worse than you. My debt to this organization is because of foolish mistakes I made. It took me a full year to come to terms with the idea of recruiting you. In the end, I realized that you really want this. You’re a natural slave, Marie. You owe it to yourself not to do this halfway.” Angelica seemed to almost admire Marie in her submission, perhaps even envious.

Marie sniffed, tears still trickling down her cheek. The tight straps hid the ferocity with which she struggled to escape, ignoring the excruciating stretching in her rear as she pushed on her tail to fight the waist-strap. She was in a cyclone of emotions, but a tiny voice of reason in her head pointed out one simple fact: Until she signed, she would have to sit there listening to her best friend rationalize her betrayal.

Quietly, Marie shifted the pen in her hand and scribbled her signature on the page. Smiling, Angelica reached forward and helped her position for the next sheet.

When it was all finished, Angelica slipped the forms into a manila envelope and minced her way around the desk, filing the envelope in a large cabinet. Opening a second drawer, she produced a wood box that reminded Marie of something she couldn’t quite remember in her sleep-deprived state. Shuffling back, Angelica set the box on Marie’s lap.

“In a minute, I’m going to release you from the chair, and you’re going to put on everything in that box. Do you understand?” Marie stared at the box and nodded quietly.

Angelica reached up to the top of the bondage throne and pulled hard on what appeared to be a built-in lever, releasing the tension on Marie’s bonds with a loud mechanical groan. Wearily, Marie opened the chest in her lap to reveal four manacles joined with an X of mid-length chain. She quietly fitted them around her wrists and ankles, hoping to rush through whatever was in store for her.

“Good girl, Marie. Your obedience will be rewarded. You will be taken to the processing chamber for cleaning and preparation, and then you will be outfitted for your first assignment. I will see you again, sweetie.” Angelica lowered her sunglasses to reveal a pair of yellow eyes with vertical almond- shaped pupils, like a cat’s. “Count on it.”

Welcome to the Machine

Marie shifted suddenly, realizing that the catgirl she had fought with at the Halloween party was in fact her dear friend Angelica. She stopped short, her wrists tugging on the X of chain connecting them to the cuffs on her ankles. She stared, slack-jawed, as Angelica set her sunglasses on the desk and popped out the cat-eye contact lenses.

“Yoooou! You…” Marie stammered, but Angelica simply placed a finger over her lips, pointing discreetly at the cameras mounted in the room’s light fixtures.

Wordlessly, Angelica shuffled over to a large mahogany cabinet, swinging the two doors open to reveal a padded floor. On the right side of the interior was a steel helmet, mounted along the wall. From the inside ceiling hung a thin chain, ending in a pair of rubber-lined steel cuffs.

Marie shuddered as Angelica heaved on the cuff-chain inside the cabinet, causing the metal hood to butterfly open, revealing a thick penis-gag at the mouth. Marie stood up, resigned to further bondage at the hands of her old friend, the manacles keeping her bent forward just slightly.

The thought of the steel helmet closing around her gagged head nearly made Marie begin crying again, and she pulled up on her chains in frustration. Looking up at a camera in the chandelier, she considered trying to run.

When her attention turned back to the cabinet, however, Marie realized that Angelica was kneeling on the padded floor. She was held straight as a board by her locked corset-dress, and she had snapped one of the cuffs closed about her left wrist. Once her hands were cuffed behind her, Angelica bent forward slowly, lest she tumble forward onto the phallus.

As her lips brushed against the rubber gag, Angelica turned her head toward the dumbstruck Marie.

“Submit gracefully,” she whispered, her uncovered eyes pleading and full of fear “and it will be easier for both of us.” With that, she took the helmet’s phallus into her mouth and leaned forward against it, the two halves of the steel hood clanging shut around her head. At that moment, another weight seemed to fall, pulling on the cuff-chain behind her back.

Marie watched in disbelief as Angelica’s head was bound in steel and her arms pulled up in a severe strappado. She stumbled forward as best as her manacles would allow, but the cabinet doors swung shut. Marie scratched on the wood with her clawed hands, but the doors were solidly locked.

In no time at all, the office door burst open, and two large men in white rubber smocks and surgical masks lunged toward Marie.

“Nooooo!” Marie screamed as they grabbed her upper arms, dragging her away from Angelica’s prison. “Let her out! You bastards! LET HER OUT OF THERE!!”

Marie screamed and thrashed, her manacle chains rattling with her struggles. The men overpowered her quickly, and as her yells softened into sobs, Marie realized that she could hear Angelica screaming in pain from inside the cabinet.

“Come quietly.” One of the orderlies commanded, “Resistance results in punishment. First for her, and then for you.” Marie sunk into the men’s heavy grip as the screams inside the cabinet died down. Sniffling and moaning, she let herself be led out of the office and into an elevator at the end of the hallway.

The lift ran for several minutes, finally reaching the bottom basement of the building. The doors opened into a gleaming white tile room. The lights buzzed with harsh energy, glinting off the menacing steel contraption at the center. Marie thrashed involuntarily against her two escorts as they dragged her toward the device.

It was a large ring of steel, arranged vertically, with pistons and flywheels mounted around it on springs and cantilevers. Cables snaked back and forth through block-and-tackle pulley assemblies, and the whole device had a human- shaped gap right in the center.

The men worked efficiently, using small radio devices with loop antennae to open the cuffs around her wrists and ankles. They released her limbs one at a time, transferring her body from the X of chain in front of her to the demonic frame of steel around her. Pistons hissed with air as the men tuned the tension against her extremities, pulling her taut. When she was finally locked into the device, her body spread-eagle and her head secured at the throat and forehead, the men tidied up quickly and returned to the lift, steel doors closing as it rose once more.

Marie counted her breaths in an effort to determine how long she waited. She lost count after what must have been fifteen minutes, and began testing her bonds. The framework she was in seemed to react to her struggle, providing opposing force for each tug and push. Whenever she pulled against a section of the machine, it pulled back a little harder, and she instinctively tensed against that force.

Her heart beat quickly as she sent the machine into amplifying waves of pulling and pushing, the gyrations building until they threatened to tear her apart. The pistons and springs of the machine hissed and groaned as they kneaded her like dough.

Struggling against her desire to struggle, Marie closed her eyes and began the breathing exercises she had been taught in her confidence-building sessions. She imagined herself outside her body, and massaged her limbs with her mind until they relaxed into stillness. She felt herself adrift on a calm blue ocean.

Satisfied and relieved, Marie returned to reality and opened her eyes again. The device was still tight against her limbs, but it no longer fought with her. With a heavy sigh, Marie concentrated on staying relaxed. This seemed to work for another short while, but an itch in her back started to make its presence known.

“Oh no.” Marie muttered, her mild squeak echoing in the empty tile chamber. She focused on breathing, imagined a warm energy flowing through her shoulder and keeping it from twitching, but the itch began to grow. Marie clenched and flexed her fists, trying to take her mind off of it.

Just as she felt that she had gained control, the sound of high heels against linoleum echoed from someplace behind the device. It was as though someone were walking down a long hall toward her. Marie focused on the rhythm of the footfalls, calming herself with their regularity.

She nearly started as a door opened and shut behind her, the clicking of heels echoing loudly in the empty room. Marie bit her lip, hearing paper rustle behind her, then a metallic tinkle. The heels tapped idly, paced occasionally, and finally there was a high-pitched mumble of satisfaction.

“Well sweetie, it looks like you’re here for a clean-up!” chirped the sweet girly voice. “First a costume inspection, disrobing, then a shower, and finally a settling of accounts and preparation for your first assignment. I think we should get to work!”

Marie counted the items on the girl’s list in her head, focusing on the regularity of the sequence as a way to keep herself calm. She continued counting in her head, over and over, as the footsteps clicked to her right side, the girl finally revealing herself.

In front of Marie stood a short pixie of a girl in a powder blue rubber nurse outfit. The short skirt ended just below her crotch, and her pale skin showed through at the thighs between the hem and the tops of her gleaming white stockings. The neck of her uniform was open enough to reveal the chrome slave collar about her throat. Her ruby-red lips pursed together to form a glossy cupid’s bow, and her high elfin cheekbones made her eyes seem to smile. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled up tight about her head and held on with a rubber nurse’s tiara. Red crosses adorned the hairpiece and the center of each breast.

The nurse smiled up at Marie and waved with a slender hand. She looked down at a clipboard and fussed at the floor with the toe of her powder-blue court shoe. Reading over the top sheet, she strutted back around behind Marie and wheeled over a metal cart draped with white linen. She hung the clipboard on a hook on the side, and fished out a bundle of red rubber from the bottom section.

“Let’s begin with the inspection, shall we?” The nurse wriggled one of the red rubber gloves onto her left hand and stretched it up to her elbow, snapping it dramatically. “It says on your roster that you’re wearing a Jack Gummi custom job, so it’s five lashes per tear instead of the usual two.” She pulled the other glove on and fished out a wand-like device, passing it over the rubber skin of Marie’s catwoman costume.

“Hmmm, he seems to have done a good job of reinforcing the trouble areas. Normally we see a lot more damage in the crotch and armpit areas.” The nurse shone a strange light from the wand, and it beeped loudly when it passed over Marie’s exposed face. “Yes, well, I think we all agree that those holes are intentional.” the nurse chuckled.

The nurse was unable to see Marie’s hands up close, but the wand beeped a few times as she passed it over them. “Oh, you’ve been a bad little girl, clenching your fist with those nasty-looking claws of yours. It looks like you have two punctures in the left hand…” she shifted to the other side, “…and three on the right. Other than that, your outfit is in perfect shape. Not bad considering you’ve been wearing it for 24 hours straight!”

Marie silently focused on her breathing, trying not to let the sudden beeps from the wand startle her. Finally the nurse verified that there were no punctures on the back of the costume, and placed the wand back in the cart. She made a few notes on the chart with a ball-point pen and then pulled out a device like the one the attendants had used to release Marie’s manacles.

“Now, after 24 hours I’ll bet you’re ready for a good long shower! We’ll get you undressed and cleaned up in no time.” She waved a radio key device past the cat collar on the outside of the costume’s throat, and it clicked open. Fumbling around the metal bars of the frame, the nurse pulled the rear zipper down to the tail. Marie sighed as she felt cool air against her sweaty back.

The nurse worked the catwoman hood over the back of Marie’s head, temporarily undoing necessary straps as she pulled the garment off. One arm at a time, Marie’s sleeves were removed and her wrists and elbows re-inserted into the pistons’ grip.

Marie shuddered as the nurse pulled the breasts of the suit off, the rubber pulling her rings as they popped out of the nipple-forms. The frame rumbled into motion, but Marie soon found her rhythm and brought it to a standstill.

“You’re pretty good at that,” the nurse noted, “…for a new fish. These oscillator frames are actually hooked up to the building’s power system, you know. They say it saves on electricity bills, and I suppose it’s handy to make some use of a slave’s thrashings.”

“Actually,” the nurse smiled somewhat coyly, “my first day, I honestly blew a fuse. They said it was a wiring fault, but I think they just didn’t want to admit that a little girl like me could break their precious toys. My muscles were jelly for a week!”

“How long,” Marie whispered as she kept slow, even breaths, “have you been here?”

“Since I was eighteen. They made me nurse about two years ago, but I was in strict training for five years before that.” The nurse waved the radio key down Marie’s spine, causing the corset to spring open suddenly. Marie twisted as her back muscles lost their support, and her regular breathing broke down as her abdominal muscles were released. The framework started running again, and Marie’s efforts to calm herself failed.

“Ah, there we go!” The nurse giggled, “I don’t think they would have been happy if you hadn’t generated at least a little power for us!”

“Oh no… Please, turn it off!” Marie panted, her stomach growling as the pressure on her digestive tract had suddenly been released. “Please! Ah!”

“There’s nothing to turn off, slave! Your struggles are simply fed back to you with a little delay. Your reactions to the return force are then also run through the delay. After enough feedback, you generate the spare force that keeps the generator flywheels spinning. It’s a gorgeous system… from the outside anyway.” The nurse winked at Marie and turned her attention to the tail, which flicked and switched as Marie involuntarily worked the generator.

The nurse reached around in front and caressed Marie’s stomach soothingly as she inspected the anal bulb at the base of the tail. She cooed at Marie as she pulled off the utility belt, and calmed her to the point where she could finally rest again. Looking at the base of the plug where it disappeared into Marie’s anus, the nurse clucked her tongue and walked around to the cart again.

She bent over to retrieve something from the bottom of the cart, and Marie saw that the back of her uniform was just a series of buckled straps across her back. The gap revealed a white rubber corset and a chrome chastity belt underneath. The belt blinked silently with a series of colored LEDs along its length.

The nurse straightened up again, holding a menacing looking steel syringe and a bedpan in her gloved hands. “Now, your plug has dried out over the past day, so I need to moisturize it before we can remove it. You’ve also been fed slavegruel recently, so you’ll be making a bit of a mess. It’s crucial that you keep yourself still for this. Clear?”

“Yes…” Marie gasped, feeling the rumbling in her belly as the nurse moved around behind her again. “Please, what is your name?”

“I don’t have a name any more other than ‘Nurse’. I was a slave like you for several years, but now I have an important function. I am very proud to serve the agency and its Masters and Mistresses.” She used the syringe to inject a moisturizing lubricant into the space between flesh and plug, massaging Marie’s stomach to help her relax.

“All right, now keep very still for this next bit…” The nurse expertly twisted the plug out of Marie’s distended anus, and immediately positioned the bedpan to catch Marie’s involuntary expulsion. She set the syringe down on the cart and picked up a cloth which she used to clean up.

“Aaaand, well done, slave! You look like you took quite a stretching back there! Was someone naughty, squeezing her tail for fun?” She giggled and began tugging Marie’s labia and clitoris out of the rubber forms in the suit’s crotch.

In no time at all, the entire costume was removed from Marie’s body entirely. The nurse tidied everything up, and then brought out an unmarked bottle of white goo which she squirted into the rubber palm of her left glove. Reaching up, she massaged it into Marie’s sweat-soaked hair.

Marie sighed as the red rubber fingers squicked and lathered her scalp, before moving down to her armpits and then crotch. Soon her whole body had been massaged with the strange-smelling soap except the regions around her eyes.

“All right, that’s the last of it.” The nurse smiled, snapping off her long red gloves and tossing them in a waste container, “You should feel a tingle as it works its way down to the follicles.”

“Follicles?” Marie didn’t like the sound of that. “You mean, like, my hair?”

“That’s precisely it.” The nurse picked up the clipboard again and pointed to an entry on the chart. “Says here your Mistress ordered completely bald except eyebrows and eyelashes. Near as I can tell that’s the last item on your chart that I’m here for, so I’ll just go and punch up your shower.”

“Oh no! Please, not my hair! Please, leave me my hair!” Marie begged as she began to lose her control over the generator frame again, the pulling and pushing sending ripples through the foaming cream that covered her body.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing for it now, slave. All that’s left is the rinse.” The nurse pushed the cart back around behind Marie, “If you’ve been good, you might even get warm water!”

Marie screamed as jets of cold water shot from spouts in the ceiling, rinsing her hair off of her smooth head. She lost all ability to remain calm as the cold shower sent her muscles into spasms that were amplified by the generator frame. She pumped and twisted and screamed and moaned as her hair was washed clean off her body.

“Ah well!” called the nurse as she left the room, “You’re due twenty-five lashes when you’re done! That ought to warm you back up!”

Subspace

The ring-shaped framework of pistons, pulleys, levers, and flywheels ran smoothly from the power of the shivering and shaking slavegirl held within it. Her every move translated back into a delayed tug, and her resistance to the tug became an even greater pull. The net result was an unending cascade of thrashing and stretching that only quieted down when exhaustion set in.

All things considered, the slavegirl was glad to have had the shower. She’d been locked into a rubber catsuit and corset for over 24 hours, and the cold jets of water had removed all of the sweat and grime of the previous day. Of course, since the nurse had used a depilatory foam to clean her body, they had also removed all her hair.

As she hung limp in the core of the wicked machine, the lights slowly dimmed and finally winked out. She drifted to sleep for a while, only to be awakened hours later as she found herself twitching and tugging the machine to life again. As she focused on calming herself down again, she noticed that the lights were slowly coming on again.

She heard the now-familiar slow creak as the framework’s flywheels slowed to a stop again, and exhaled with relief. Soon the lights dimmed again and she slept once more.

Marie dreamt that she hung on a St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of a stone courtyard. She instinctively searched for all the other familiar elements of her previous dreams: the nobles all stood with frightening metal tools and instruments of pain in their hands, and the covered sedan chair stood opposite her.

She squinted at the chair, to see the occupant’s legs exposed in the sunlight. She knew, looking at the opulent liter, that the nobles were owned by this woman just as she was. Marie thought she could make out the queen’s clothing: a black leather corset dress and ballet boots, just as Angelica had worn upstairs.

“Angie! Please! Stop doing this to me, please!” she cried out across the courtyard.

“Oh, I have not yet even begun, dear!” Angelica stepped out from the crowd of nobles, dressed in a steel frame corset over velvety robes with a slit down the front middle. Around her wrists she wore steel cuffs, and in her fists she clutched a cat-o-nine-tails.

Marie screamed as Angelica laid into her, shredding her body into leaves that blew away in the wind. Before darkness again covered her eyes, she saw the queen draw the curtains on her sedan chair.

Marie woke up slowly, her body feeling much better for the rest despite her position. She realized she was in pitch blackness again, and wondered aloud what time it was. As the minutes ticked past, she began calling out to whoever could hear her.

No response came. Eventually she decided that she needed to move to wake up her limbs, and she began to pull gently at the machine. She soon realized that if she simply let her mind tune into the rhythm of the machine, she could keep it running smoothly and slowly. The room’s lights slowly glowed to full brightness, and she relaxed into the gentle workout as she felt her joints limbering up again.

Time lost all meaning as Marie’s life was reduced to rhythmic exercise, meditative breathing, and sleep. She lost count even of the number of times she went through light and dark. Only the hunger in her belly gave her any sense of how long she had been hooked up to the generator frame.

After a long stretch of dreamless sleep, Marie awoke to a crack of light casting her bound silhouette on the white tile wall in front of her. The crack widened and she realized that another silhouette was cast just beside and below hers. A shapely hourglass figure strutted on stiletto heels until the two figures blurred inside the circle of mechanical parts.

“Wake up, sleepyhead…” cooed a familiar whisper, “It’s time to turn on the lights now.”

“Angie? W-what time is it? What happened to you?”

“Shhhhh…” Angelica cooed as Marie felt something cold and slippery being rubbed against her back, “What’s important is that you owe the agency 25 lashes. As your Mistress chose me to handle your account, I will be collecting them from you. This way I can settle the books with authority afterward.”

“P-please, Angie. I’m so cold…and hungry… I haven’t eaten in days Angie, please!”

Angelica ignored her protests as she held a rubber flogger’s handle up to Marie’s lips. “Kiss the whip, slave, and thank your Mistress for the opportunity to repay your debt!”

Frightened, but resigned to submission so long as her body was kept in this terrible frame, she brought her lips to the rubber dildo that made up the whip handle. “Thank you, M-mistress, for allowing me to repay my debt.” she mumbled, wondering where her Mistress was.

Angelica ran her fingers over Marie’s smooth bald head. “Well done, pet. You will count each one.”

Marie screamed as the rubber strips snapped against the small of her back. She was just able to call out “one!” as the generator framework rumbled to life and another blow landed diagonally across her left thigh.

Angelica stretched and snapped the flogger against Marie’s body with a rhythm that seemed to maximize the reaction from the generator. Each blow was just slightly off-beat, causing a new type of twitch or jerk from Marie’s limbs. By the fifth stroke, the lights had come on, and by the tenth, they were at full brightness.

Marie sobbed and screamed as she felt the rubber strips snap against her back, her counting automatic. The pain was minimal, and she felt the machine’s kneadings less and less as her body seemed to slip slowly away. Soon she felt that she was nothing but a warm and sore back, floating in a mist of numbers. Her eyes lost focus, and the white room’s features faded into an even glare.

While the real Marie thrashed and counted under Angelica’s relentless strokes, her mind floated back to the courtyard in her dreams. White glare became grey fog, and she felt the flagstones beneath her feet. Looking around, she realized that the entire courtyard was empty, except for a tall sedan chair.

Marie took a step forward, and floated toward the seat. As she approached, a slender hand reached out. Its latex-gloved fingers were adorned with silver rings and finger greaves, and it held a riding crop out horizontally. The hand flicked in a downward gesture, and Marie felt herself flattened to the ground by some unseen force.

So, you want to meet me, slave?

“Y-yes Mistress!” Marie stuttered, her words coming without moving her lips.

Your devotion is heartening, slave. However, you are not yet ready to see my face or know my touch. You have a long way to go before you are worthy to kneel at my side.

“But what must I do, Mistress?”

Empty your mind of worry, little one. Surrender yourself to your training, and to your tasks. Once you have given up everything that you no longer need, I will appear to you and fill in the void you have created.

Marie pressed her forehead against the cold stone and gave a breathless astral sigh. “Mistress, where is this place?”

Oh you ignorant little slave! Have you never heard of “subspace”? This is the plane of bliss that all good little slaves float off to when they are given the gift of prolonged punishment.

“Then this is all in my head? How are you…”

Hush, little slave. Do not worry about what is happening to you. Just accept it. You should know by now that I control you completely. Learn to relish that fact. Now, you have been counting for a long time for Angie. She appears to have obliged you by continuing her lashes!

Marie turned her body, confused, and realized that her physical body had twitched. She heard her voice cry out “thirty-two!”, and felt a stinging stroke against her left thigh.

“Aaah! Mercy! Mercy! Please! Enough!” she howled, and heard a giggle from Angelica behind her. She blinked against the white lights and calmed her tired limbs until the frame around her rumbled to a stop. Gasping for breath, she began to feel the burning of her back for the first time.

“Well well, aren’t we quite the little painslut, slave?” Angelica chuckled from behind Marie’s back.

Finally, Angelica strutted around in front of the frame to where Marie could see her. She no longer wore the corset hobble dress, and in its place she wore a black PVC bustier with a knee-length zippered black rubber pencil skirt. In place of the ballet shoes she wore platform rubber knee-high boots. Over her head and face she wore a black rubber hood with almond-shaped eyeholes. Her arms and hands were covered with black rubber gloves that seemed to be secured with wrist cuffs.

“Since you have been such a good trainee during your stay here, I have been granted a reward.” Angelica traced a rubber finger up Marie’s inner thigh, holding the evidence of her perpetual arousal mere inches from her face, “Isn’t that nice?”

Without waiting for Marie’s reply, Angelica pressed a platform toe against a foot-pedal at the base of the generator frame, causing it to rotate until Marie was completely upside-down. Marie felt the blood rush to her head, but decided that the change in the nature of the strain on her limbs was probably a good thing in the end.

Angelica reached down toward her knees and pulled at the zipper that hung between them. Tugging carefully, she unzipped the pencil skirt until her thighs were exposed, revealing curious steel bands about each leg. Finally, she ran the zipper up to the hem of her corset, her bald and heavily modified pussy hanging just in front of Marie’s horrified face.

The bands about Angelica’s thighs connected to silver batlike wings clamped onto her outer labia, holding them open. Around her clitoris sat an intricate silver dragon’s head, the flesh of her nub looking like a tongue set behind the vicious fangs. The dragon’s red jeweled eyes sparkled like Marie’s own piercings. Between Angie’s labia there ran a number of thin chains that connected to rings on the opposite end of her slit.

Marie stared in confusion at the gleaming pussydragon hovering just over her face. She watched intently as Angelica reached down and adjusted some of the chains, causing the dragon’s mouth to clamp down momentarily, hiding her clit.

“All right slave, I’m ready for my reward!” Angie moaned, and quickly pressed the dragon against Marie’s mouth. Marie ran her tongue over the metal contraption, feeling for exposed flesh wherever it lay. She tentatively stuck her tongue into the dragon’s mouth, and was just able to brush against Angie’s clitoris.

“Mmmmmm! Oh, yes slave! Oh, it has been so long…” Angie moaned, grinding her hips into Marie’s face and kneading Marie’s abused rump.

Marie began to lick along the length of Angelica’s slit, eliciting moans of pleasure. She worked carefully around the silver monster for a few minutes, until Angie’s clitoris had swollen to where it was more easily accessed. Marie sucked on the protruding nub, to great effect.

Finally, Marie ran her tongue back up Angie’s slit, and pushed her tongue into the entrance of her pussy. She felt the chains tighten around the base of her tongue as she rammed it into her friend, and heard a clicking sound from the dragon’s head at her chin.

Angelica roared with pain as the silver teeth clamped down on her swollen clit, and began to swing the flogger wildly against Marie’s body. She spat and hissed as Marie quickly withdrew her tongue from her pussy and began to suck on the abused flesh to try and soothe it.

In a short time, Marie had worked Angelica up into an entirely different sort of frenzy, an orgasmic wail filling the room. Marie did not stop, however, and before Angelica pulled herself off, she had come three times.

Angie collapsed onto the floor, leaning against Marie’s dangling head. She stroked Marie’s bald scalp with her rubber-clad fingers.

“Oh Marie, I have made such a big mistake!” she whispered, careful not to be heard, “I crossed the Agency a year ago, and they put this…thing on me. Every night for the past year it has aroused me until I am near orgasm, and then the head clamps down. Please, my poor dear Marie, just do whatever it is they want! There are women down here who suffer far worse than I do, and they have no chance for release!”

Marie groaned, her strength gone, “And.. you?”

Angie held Marie’s upside-down head in both her hands and planted a kiss on her temple.

“You, my dear sweet Marie. You are my chance for release!”

The Orderlies’ Bonus

Marie floated alone in her dreams, for once. She floated in a red and glowing womblike void. Her skin tingled with warmth, and she felt a healing energy flow from the universe into her body. She sighed with pleasure and relief, and felt that she was suckling on the teat of the universe.

A gentle kneading sensation spread up and down her limbs, working her joints as subtle music played. Marie realized that although she floated in endless space, she could not move a single muscle. Her arms were spread lazily at her sides, and her ankles were spread a foot apart. She mused that the generator frame had forever spread her, and she would never curl up again.

The music grew more distinct, and Marie thought for a while that she heard voices murmuring beneath it, one of them her own. She listened carefully, and was able to detect a low whine and a faint hiss as well. Trying to mouth words, she felt her jaw held open with a ring or a tube of some sort. She was unable to blink.

The kneading of her muscles stopped, and Marie realized that she must be awake now, although she still seemed to float. The tingling in her body was a more pronounced heat, and Marie realized that she could not move so much as a finger.

The music suddenly took a more prominent role as the whine and hiss ceased. The force that held Marie rigid suddenly let go, and she felt a latex sheath relax itself around her. She tumbled into the harsh light as the force of suction no longer held her up.

The two large male orderlies were there to catch her as she fell. Marie blinked and squinted, looking back to see that the generator frame was covered in two sheets of latex, of which one had peeled forward. The tube that had been in her mouth now hung limply from the front sheet, and a human-shaped stain of sweat and some sort of oily cream was the only hint that a bald slavegirl had been sandwiched between the two membranes.

The orderlies held her by her upper arms, and hoisted her to her feet. The nurse stepped out from beside them and released the latex sheets from the frame with the pull of a lever. Bundling them up, she put them in the bottom of the push-cart that sat to one side.

“Well, I hope you enjoyed your deep tissue massage, slave. You should feel your joints to be more limber than ever before!” The nurse picked up a jar of muscle ointment in her red gloved hands and walked toward Marie. “We use a special liniment here, crafted by Figgy, one of our very own slavegirls. It works remarkably well for smoothing out the kinks of long-term bondage, and has certain… enjoyable properties as well.”

With that, she scooped a glistening red finger into the jar and smeared a grape-sized glob onto Marie’s clitoris and down her slit. She unceremoniously wiped the remainder from her glove onto Marie’s softened and relaxed nipples, and they immediately sprang to attention.

“Oooooh. What is in this?” Marie moaned as she felt the tingling heat spread through her erogenous zones. She sagged in the orderlies’ arms as she squeezed her thighs together, trying to generate some friction on her buzzing clit.

“I don’t know the full recipe, but they say that the masters collect the tears of a beaten slavegirl to make it. Perhaps you’re being aroused right now by the suffering of your dear little Angie, eh?” the nurse grinned wickedly. “Personally, I think it’s just ginger extract, but there is something special about this stuff.”

The nurse stiffened suddenly, setting down the jar and clasping her hands behind her, her chest thrusting out through the powder blue latex uniform as she strained to pull her elbows together. She seemed to shudder in pulses, her head hanging down as her knees wobbled. After a minute, she relaxed and spoke to the orderlies.

“Take her to room 34. Everything should be set up there.”

The orderlies grunted acknowledgement and hauled the squirming Marie through the door that had been behind her for so long. The tingling heat on her clitoris had grown to a level of stimulation that she could not ignore, but the men held her elbows high behind her back so that she could not even touch her aching nipples. They dragged her down white tile hallways past vicious stainless steel doors. Occasionally Marie caught a glimpse of a generator frame, or a girl bent double in some strange device.

Finally, she was hauled through a door marked “34”, and led to the side of a large bathtub. The men unfolded a towel by the side to reveal a set of steel cuffs and a telescoping spreader bar. Efficiently, with no time wasted, they cuffed Marie’s elbows behind her and locked her ankles two feet apart. She could no longer even bring her knees together.

Marie was delirious with arousal and irritation. “Oh no, please. Please just let me rub it! Oh god I need to come! Don’t leave me like this! I’ll do whatever you want if you just let me come!”

At that moment, the nurse came strutting into the room with her push-cart. “Oh go right ahead, boys. Give her an orgasm and then you may each take your bonus from her.”

Marie stared, her teeth gritted, as one of the men came up in front of her. She saw now that each of the orderlies wore a large white codpiece with an erect protrusion. She rolled her head back as she felt the tip of the device push her clit ring up against her flesh. The man wrapped his large hands around her waist and maneuvered the prong so that it rubbed up and down her slit, finally pushing inside of her.

Marie bit her lip as she rode the orderly’s codpiece, the cream now spread over her entire pussy. She was so focused on generating friction against her clitoris that she did not notice when the other orderly began to push his lubricated prong against her rear entrance.

Marie felt fuller than she had ever been, and the heat between her legs grew as the two men pumped their stiff protrusions in and out of her. The orgasm, when it came, was the thrashing and screaming kind.

The two men turned to the nurse just as Marie began to writhe in frustration as she realized that the burning sensation would not subside any time soon. One of them pointed down at his codpiece and just said “Bonus!” The nurse again tensed, quivering for a moment, and then turned to the men.

“You are allowed five minutes each. She has had fellatio training, but no throat training yet.”

The men suddenly grew exasperated. “You know what’s in our contract, nurse! Give her the spritz, and let us have our bonus!”

The nurse bowed submissively and grabbed a small bottle. One man grabbed Marie’s jaw and forced it open as she looked helplessly up at the nurse bending over her. The nurse used a tongue depressor to clear the path to Marie’s throat, and sprayed two bursts of a fine mist into her mouth. Marie was released, and she smacked her mouth in reaction to the odd medicinal taste.

“Give me my five minutes, nurse!” One of the orderlies demanded.

“Sir, that may not be wise yet. The spritz has not yet fully soaked in. You may wish to–”

“Dammit bitch, I want my bonus NOW!”

The nurse again bowed submissively, and quivered quietly for a few seconds. With a beep and a mechanical “click”, the orderly’s codpiece swung down away from his crotch. His penis was erect within the solid sheath, and he had to do a little bending work to get himself out of the device. Marie thought she saw a leather ring around the base of his cock.

The man unceremoniously stepped up to Marie and shoved his prick into her mouth. Marie felt his cock between her lips, tasted it on her tongue, but for some reason felt nothing behind her teeth. She scrunched up her face, confused, as she felt her air passage clogged with his flesh. She felt the pangs of choking in her chest, but her neck and throat felt relaxed as ever, as though she were swallowing pudding.

After a few minutes of air-starved pumping and thrusting, the man pulled his tool out of Marie’s mouth completely.

“What the fuck is going on? Nurse, what the fuck did you do?”

“I am sorry sir,” the nurse held her arms behind her, staring down at her powder blue court shoes, “I warned you that the numbing spritz might not have soaked in yet. It appears to have affected your cock.”

“MotherFUCK!” he spat, slapping his penis back and forth across Marie’s cheeks. “Fix it! Fix it now or give me my five minutes back!”

“Again, I’m very sorry Sir, but you’ll just have to wait half an hour for it to wear off. I’m afraid there’s no way I can refund you your bonus time, I–”

“Fucking call up central, you little stuffed whore! Squeeze your little cunt for them and tell them you cheated me out of my bonus! Do it NOW!”

“I am sorry, Sir, but there is no way I can do that. If you will recall your contract, you–”

“To hell with my contract!” The man screamed, his face now as red as Marie’s, “I want my bonus and I want it–Ohshit!”

The man tensed as a loud beeping sounded between his legs. The codpiece began to swing upward, and he hurried to stuff his erection into the sheath. Once the device had clicked home, he stormed over to the cart where the nurse stood.

“You fucking cheated me out of this, and I’ll make sure you’re branded and blinded and put on display duty for the next year! You hear me, bitch? If you weren’t already stuffed and locked with your little slutty telephone I’d smear liniment all over this fucking thing and ream you like the little tease you are!”

He was distracted, suddenly, as his colleague’s codpiece suddenly unlocked with a loud click. Marie panted in her bonds, both from the burning at her crotch and the breathlessness from her earlier cockswallowing. She looked up, frightened, at the man standing above her, mouthing pleas for help as he pushed his cock against her lips.

He stroked her head tenderly and muttered soothing words as he slid his manhood around the inside of her mouth, slickening it with her drool. Slowly he worked his way up to the back of her numbed mouth, and slipped his meat back into her throat.

Marie soon worked out the rhythm of his thrustings, and managed to time her breaths based on them. She opened her scrunched up eyes and looked up at the face of the man she was swallowing. She saw a kind smile, and felt him run his hands over her scalp as she bobbed on and off of his prong. He never once pushed her down onto him, but let her work at her own pace.

Soon she felt him twitch, and pulled back, twirling her tongue and sucking as hard as her numbed throat would let her. She was soon rewarded with the faint taste of salty warm goo, which she swallowed without fully realizing that she had. The orderly slowly pulled his flaccid penis back, and slipped it quietly into the codpiece, which he closed himself.

The nurse spoke to him. “You finished one minute and seventeen seconds early. This time will be alloted to you during your next bonus period.” She curtsied daintily.

“Please,” Marie mumbled, drool forming at the corner of her mouth, “I must come! Please help me!” She looked into the orderly’s eyes, seeing compassion and tenderness.

“If you ever find yourself with roaming privileges, my cell is number 647.” he whispered, standing up as he ran his hands over Marie’s head.

“Gentlemen, your assistance is no longer needed. You will return to your cells, and consider your duty cycle finished for today.” The nurse gestured to the door.

The angry orderly leaned over to Marie on his way out. “I’ll have that conniving little tongue of yours cut out, bitch! You fucking crossed the wrong guy!”

Marie shuddered as she squirmed in her bonds, trying unsuccessfully to bring her knees together. She watched the men leave, and then begged and pleaded with the nurse.

“Oh there, there, slave. Don’t you worry. We’ll get that nasty stuff washed off now.”

The nurse unlocked the spreader and tossed it aside, then helped Marie into the bathtub. Marie squirmed in the warm water, working her thighs to try and twist her clit ring for stimulation. She stretched her bound arms behind her, trying to reach her crotch to bring herself off.

The nurse ignored her thrashing and set up a bottle of soap and a wide sponge. She worked a lather into the sponge and began to bathe Marie gently, rubbing the muscle liniment off of Marie’s tingling flesh. She worked slowly, and the tenderness of the bath made Marie feel relaxed and warm.

“That man…” Marie mumbled, the fire in her loins still present but abating. “What did he mean, about you, and the telephone?”

The nurse smiled and stood up beside the tub, peeling up the skirt of her powder blue rubber uniform. Underneath, flat leather garter clips hooked to tiny rings in a solid steel chastity belt. Green and red LED lights winked softly up and down the front, and there were delicate sockets arrayed along the underside.

Marie rolled sideways in the tub, her arms still cuffed behind her. “Wha– what is it?”

“It is my Master.” The nurse replied, pulling her uniform straight again. “I speak to him in Morse code, and he replies. It is one of the perks of being nurse here.”

“Perks? It looks so frightening!”

“I cannot expect you to understand the position I was in before I accepted this job, but you must understand that I welcomed it. The muscle training required to operate it does not come easily, and it is not very forgiving of mistakes.”

“Muscle training? How do you mean?” Marie was kneeling now, her fists clenching and unclenching.

“The transmitter is located in my vagina, and I send signals by tensing my Kegel muscles. I receive messages as tiny jolts to my anus, and feel my Master’s voice as a series of clenches around the receiver plug. It is a most efficient communications mechanism, as I can use it even when bound and gagged! Of course, Master doesn’t like it when I come without permission, since it babbles into the transmitter.”

“Oh my! When was the last time you came?”

The nurse cocked her head in a cute way, and thought for a moment. “Six months ago, during my annual servicing. I couldn’t speak to Master for a long time after I came, and he gave me such a talking-to…” She rubbed her ass through her rubber skirt idly, as if remembering a distant pain.

Marie leaned forward to rest her chin on the side of the tub, since her bound arms prevented most other relaxing poses. She sighed, trying to remember the days before she had become a slave, when her sex life was as simple as a sexy dress and an awkward boy and a few drinks. She tried to remember what it felt like to be in charge of her life. Every time she started to remember, a voice told her to leave those memories alone, that her life was free of stressful decisions and mind-numbing work.

Marie sighed and looked up at the nurse again. “So what happens next?”

“Well, according to your schedule you’re done for the day. You will be sent home, and you’ll return on Monday for your lessons.”

Marie was dried off slowly with a fluffy towel, then her wrists were uncuffed just long enough to dress her in a black latex catsuit. Marie was surprised to notice that the catsuit had no ticklers, teasers, straps, or plugs. It simply covered her from her toes to her neck, leaving her collar visible. Once dressed, her wrists were manacled again behind her back.

After a wig of short red hair not unlike her old hair (although certainly a brighter shade of red) was stretched over her bald head, she was lead over to the corner of the room. Sitting there was a foam-lined shipping case made of heavy plastic. She was made to kneel into the human-shaped depression in the foam, and found her mouth pressing against a firm rubber ballgag with a breathing tube built into it.

“One question before I go?” She asked, straightening up again. “You said Monday… How long was I in that frame? How many days? Was it weeks?”

The nurse smirked as she pushed Marie’s head back down into the case. As she picked up the foam-lined lid, she whispered into Marie’s ear.

“You were only in the frame for six hours.”

The lid clamped down, and Marie could do nothing but wait to be shipped home.

An Unexpected Houseguest

Marie floated in the dream world yet again. She was now alone in the courtyard, kept in a tiny cage that forced her to curl up in a ball. Her head was held down at her knees by the force of a woman’s high-heeled boot or shoe, the spike heel poking at the back of her neck.

In front of the cage was a soothsayer’s crystal ball, the mist within showing a house – her aunt’s house! The mist cleared, and she saw workmen hammering and sawing away at the sides of the beautiful Victorian structure. The workmen peeled the outer walls like paper, and soon everything but the top of the building fell away. What lay beneath were the bars of a steel cage.

Marie woke suddenly as the lid to her crate suddenly opened, light streaming in between her body and the foam padding. She pulled her mouth off of the breathing ball, and straightened her back up. Looking around, she saw that she was alone in the hallway of her house again. The delivery people must have set a timed release for the lid, or perhaps some sort of remote control.

Shakily, Marie got to her feet, unable to use her arms for support as they were still cuffed behind her. She stepped out of the box and looked around for a handcuff key. Not finding anything, she sighed and walked into the living room.

Nothing was the same there any more. Her aunt’s cheap fluffy sofa had been replaced with a pair of antique fainting couches, and a white bear rug sat in front of the fireplace. Iron rings were embedded in the walls, and the floor had the occasional steel attachment point flush with the ground. The artwork on the walls consisted of black and white photos of noir vamps and wasp- waisted vixens.

Marie ran through the dining room, ensuring that her Aunt’s heirloom furniture was still there, although the iron chain chandelier was quite new. She ran into the kitchen, unable to make sense of many of the implements now adorning its countertops. Flustered, she ran back to the stairs, and up toward her bedroom.

The door was closed when she got there, so she turned her back to it and worked the knob behind her. She was mortified to find it locked. She wiggled it furiously for a moment, then slumped down onto the stairs. She sat with her back against the door and sighed.

Soon, she heard a ratcheting and clicking noise from behind her. The door opened suddenly, and Marie fell backward onto her latex-clad elbows. Looking up, she saw the tops of a pair of knee-high vinyl boots, the hem of a pair of black stockings, and the slick glow of a red latex miniskirt. In the dark folds of the skirt, illuminated by a pair of winking red eyes, was a glittering silver cuntdragon.

Marie scrambled to her feet and looked straight into Angie’s eyes. The two stared at each other for what felt like an eternity.

Slowly, Angelica brought her black-gloved hand up. Without breaking her gaze, she held out a leather riding crop and traced the outline of Marie’s chin with the soft flap at the end.

“Kneel.” Angelica commanded and Marie obeyed, rolling to her knees and pressing her forehead to the floor. She felt the blood pumping through her ears, and clenched her cuffed fists behind her back.

Angelica watched Marie in silence for several minutes, and then walked back into the bedroom. Marie quivered, screwing her eyes shut tight as if to hold in the rising tide of emotion and confusion. Angelica returned ten minutes later with a ring of keys, and removed Marie’s handcuffs.

“You may enter the room, Slave.” Marie rubbed her wrists with relief as she pulled herself to her feet, only to be struck in several places by Angelica’s crop.

“Did I tell you you could stand up? Get back on the floor and do as you are told!”

Marie quickly dropped to all fours and crawled into what was once her bedroom. Most of the fixtures and furniture were the same as when she had left for the Halloween party, but she began to remember that the bedroom had changed several times. She was not entirely sure which items were added or changed during her enslavement, and found it hard to even remember what her bedroom had looked like before she had first locked herself into the bed’s cuffs for her night of punishment.

“I’m getting hungry, slave, so I’ll make this brief. Your Mistress has permitted me to stay as a guest in Her home until such time as you are ready to live in Her presence. I shall supervise this stage of your training and preparation, and you are to follow my orders to the letter. Is everything understood, slave?”

Marie took a deep breath, wondering if she would be able to find her own voice. “Oh yes, Angie.” she mumbled.

Angelica brought the crop down on Marie’s rear. “You will address me as Ma’am or Lady A. I am your Mistress’s surrogate, and you will show proper respect.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Marie cried out as the strokes stung lightly, even through her catsuit.

“Good girl. Now, let’s get you dressed for housework so that you can fix me some dinner.”

Marie heard Angelica rummaging through boxes and racks of squeaky clothing. After a few minutes, Marie was ordered to stand and strip. Reaching back, Marie peeled off the catsuit, the mute pounding sound of flopping latex cascading to the floor.

“I said strip! That means all of it!”

Marie looked at her temporary mistress, confused. She spread her arms out to show how naked she was.

“You stupid girl!” Angelica snapped, snatching the red wig from Marie’s shiny baldness, “That will be five strokes later tonight. For now, it’s time for a shower. On your feet!”

Marie couldn’t recognize her old bathroom at all. Gone was the friendly iron tub with the lion’s feet, the Victorian sink fixtures, and the heirloom medicine cabinet. In their place was a stainless steel and tile room, with fearsome fixtures coming from the walls and a large mirror along the far-side.

Angelica pointed to a control panel on one wall, instructing Marie in it’s basic uses. Marie followed her instructions and requested a five-minute shower from the device, her heart skipping a few beats at some of the options she saw listed.

Lights came on behind the mirror on the far wall, revealing a small shower stall. The mirror, now transparent, slid open to allow entry. A pole then lowered from the ceiling, ending in a recognizable figure-8 of metal. The pole’s cuffs snapped open, and a light yet persistent beeping sound indicated that Marie was to step in.

Angelica shoved Marie into the stall roughly, spinning her around. Marie realized that she felt warm and protected as her old friend grabbed her arms and shoved her wrists into the self-sealing manacles above her. She let her head hang as Angelica pushed her ankles into the cuffs that had emerged from the lower walls. Satisfied that Marie was properly positioned, Angelica stepped back and the two-way mirrored door closed between them.

The shower was quick and methodical. Jets of warm soapy water sprouted from the walls, tracing interlocking spirals over Marie’s body. She was reminded again what a creature of sex she had become, the tingling jets of liquid stimulating her erogenous zones and sending shivers through her piercings. Her hungry eyes roamed, and her gaze met Angelica’s through the glass.

The rinse portion of the shower started at the top of her bald head, and worked its way down her body. It was followed immediately by a gust of hot air that blew down from above, pushing all of the moisture into the central drain.

A timer sounded, and the glass door slid back again. Soon the ankle cuffs opened and retreated into the wall, and the wrist cuffs retracted into the ceiling. Marie stepped out to be inspected.

Angelica slipped her hand over the back of Marie’s neck, her thumb and middle finger gripping the flesh behind Marie’s jaw. She looked the young slavegirl over and then pushed her back out into the bedroom.

“Your home has been fitted with control panels to automate most tasks. They are designed so that you will be able to use them even when strictly bound. This one controls the wardrobe, so that you will be able to retrieve the clothing that has been chosen for you.”

Marie frowned, realizing that she was no longer able to simply wander her closet and pick out clothing. She followed Angelica’s instructions, and heard motors whirring, like the automated racks that they use at dry-cleaners. Eventually the whirring stopped, and a rack of clothing extended into the room from the wall.

Hanging from the rack were a pair of long white latex stockings topped with black bows, a low-cut and short black rubber dress with a wide circle skirt and pouffy shoulder-sleeves, a strappy corset of some sort, a pair of high- heeled mary-janes, some accessories in a plastic bag, and a large bundle of rubber surgical gloves that Marie could not identify.

“You will begin,” Angelica ordered, “with the stockings.”

Marie nodded a polite “Yes Ma’am” and grabbed the long latex sheaths. Bunching one up, she leaned against the wall and began quickly tugging it up her foot.

“No, no, no!” Angelica bellowed, cropping Marie’s leg with each word. “No wonder your mistress won’t deign to see you! You’re such a poorly-behaved slave. Do it again, properly!”

Marie pulled the stocking off her foot, panicked. She looked up at Angelica, bewildered.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, haven’t you been instructed in the basics?” Angelica ignored Marie’s frightened reply, and grabbed a book off of the bedstand, opening it to a page in the first chapter.

The book was an instructional manual, filled with diagrams and illustrations. The style was largely inspired by Japanese manga, with submissive young girls performing lewd and painful acts with seductive artistry. The section that Angelica held out to Marie showed a lithe nude, her blue hair pinned up in a bun, demonstrating the proper and pleasing way to put on a pair of stockings.

Angelica tapped the page, “You will memorize the steps, slave, and I will quiz you on this next time. Now put on the stockings properly!”

Marie studied the images quickly, and grabbed the chair from the vanity desk. Turning sideways, she raised her right knee up high, pointing her toe at the seat. Delicately, she gathered the stocking up and stretched it over her toes, resting them lightly on the chair. Working carefully, she tugged the stocking up over her calf, smoothing it gently and ensuring that the black seam was straight in back.

Once she had successfully pulled the garment up to her knee, she kicked her leg out straight in front of her just long enough to pull the latex up to her lower thigh. Bending her knee again, she brought her toes daintily to the floor next to her other foot, then turned her heel outward slightly and finished tugging and smoothing the glossy film over her delicately presented leg.

“That was acceptable.” Angelica nodded, and closed the book while Marie repeated the process with the other stocking.

Marie finished putting on the stockings and took the book from Angelica’s outstretched arm. The cover of the book had the title “A Novice Slave’s Illustrated Primer”, and showed a drawing of a young woman in an underbust corset and collar. The woman in the drawing sat on her heels, her knees spread, hands on her thighs, palm upward. Around her image were notes and arrows showing how her breasts were outthrust, her elbows bent, neck straight but eyes downcast, and so forth.

There was a yellow sigil boasting about the accompanying CD in the back, and it seemed to have been published professionally through a standard printing house. It even had a suggested retail price listed in several currencies, and an ISBN barcode on the back!

Marie flipped through the first few chapters, glancing over little cartoons teaching forms of address, proper dressing technique, sexual services, and correct posture in various submissive positions. As Marie flipped deeper and deeper into the book, the women appeared in more and more distress.

Marie stopped on a page depicting a crying girl splayed over a triangular wooden horse, the end of a crop just entering the panel. A little sidebar explained the important fact that “Unless the slave has been ordered to count strokes, she has the right to beg for a gag.” The next panel showed the same girl looking up demurely at her unseen master as his hands buckled a red ballgag between her teeth. The notes in the image pointed out her “thankful submissive glance”.

“That is the elementary text for your slave training.” Angelica explained, “You will be given dedicated study periods, after which you may beg to practice the exercises at the end of each chapter. On Monday you will report to the Agency again for classroom instruction. You will be expected to have read the fellatio sections in chapter three. Now let’s get the rest of your uniform on!”

Angelica indicated that the next item of clothing was to be the large bundle of surgical gloves. Marie fumbled with it for a few minutes, puzzled, before discovering how the gloves hung in one direction from a latex hem at the top. Looking through the top of it, she discovered that the gloves on the inside pointed upward and seemed to have a little more air in them than the mostly- deflated fingers on the outside. Pushing her hands through it, she found two channels where she presumed her legs must go.

Angelica tapped her crop against her hand impatiently, waiting for Marie to figure out the garment. Finally, the bald slave slipped her glossy white legs into the squeaking pom-pom, checking the manual’s diagrams to ensure that she was doing so in the correct manner. Bending at her hips, she drew the inflated petticoats up to her waist, lodging the upward-pointing fingers between her bald labia.

Checking the manual one last time, Marie swung her hips once, twice, and finally turned her back to Angelica. She bent over at her hips, grabbing her knees so that the Domme could inspect the manner in which the teasers sat. Angelica ran her hand up and down the back of Marie’s thigh, and then gave two gentle slaps of approval as a signal that Marie should stand straight again.

“Straighten up and let’s finish this!” Angelica barked.

Marie put on the rest of the clothing slowly, mimicking the gestures in the textbook. She stood delicately, one leg straight while the other crooked on tiptoe. She assumed a standing-attention pose between garments, her fingers woven behind her back, chest outthrust, eyes downcast. All the while, each movement of her legs caused a shifting in the glove-fingers between her sex.

When she was finished, Angelica plucked a wig from one of the bags that hung from the clothing rack, and gave Marie a black bob complete with a white latex maid’s cap. Stepping back, she admired the uniformed maid-girl.

Marie was now fully dressed, the low-cut black latex one-piece dress disappearing beneath a heavy rubber corset detailed with wide straps and chrome buckles sealed on with heart-shaped padlocks. The short circle skirt splayed out wide over the glove-petticoats, ending just before it could hide the polished white fingers from view. Beneath the skirts, a brief glimpse of Marie’s thighs framed the tops of the white stockings. Her feet were locked into steep wedge-heeled black mary-janes that were so glossy you could see the reflection of her legs and skirts in the toes.

Marie’s arms were encased in white latex gloves that disappeared beneath the locked straps of the pouffy black sleeves of her dress. On her wrists she wore padded steel cuffs that were linked together by a foot of glittery chain. She stood straight, her hands resting on the tiny white latex apron on the front of her wide skirt, the cuff-chain resting catenary against it.

Angelica nodded her approval and brusquely ordered Marie to follow her downstairs. Marie obeyed, watching Angelica’s feet as she trailed behind her. When they reached the dining room, Marie was ordered to fix dinner.

Marie had always been proud of her cooking skills, and the kitchen had been fully stocked in her absence. There were many new time-saving devices that Marie had always seen as frivolous, but she realized as she worked that most had been converted to use the same controls as the shower and wardrobe upstairs.

Angelica sat wordlessly as Marie brought out the bowls and trays of food. She set the table quickly, laying out two placemats.

Angelica glared up at the presumptuous maid. “I will not be having any guests for dinner today, slave. Set the table for one.”

Marie caught her breath, and realized that she would not likely eat at her Aunt’s grand dining table ever again. She did as she was told, and then filled Angelica’s plate.

“Well done, slave. Kneel at my side while I eat.”

Marie sank to her knees, her back held straight by the corset, and laid her hands submissively on her lap. Angelica ate slowly, and Marie’s compressed stomach was empty enough to growl with hunger. The smells of food and the sounds of Angelica sipping and clinking Marie’s heirloom silver against the china dishes made her fidget with her cuff-chain as she waited.

Angelica reached down after a few minutes and slapped Marie’s gloved hands. “Five more strokes! Keep silent, girl!”

Marie sighed quietly, occupying herself by looking around as much as she could without moving her head. The underside of her Aunt’s mahogany table was in shadow, since the dining room’s chandelier hung directly above it. Nevertheless, there was enough light for Marie to realize that there were metal hasps and hooks that had been bolted to the antique furniture in various places. She bided her time trying to count the attachments and determine their purpose.

Angelica eventually finished her meal and ordered Marie to clear the plates. Marie set the serving bowls on the counter in the kitchen, so that she could fix herself a plate once Angelica let her eat.

Unfortunately, that was not to be permitted. Marie earned herself five more strokes, and her proper dinner was ordered through a control panel on one wall. What had once been an old dumbwaiter opened automatically to reveal a clear Tupperware bowl. Inside the bowl was a milky white porridge, and a straw attached to the center of the lid ended just above the level of the goo.

The lid itself was sealed to the bowl with some sort of plastic lock, and the central straw took the form of a smallish anatomical dildo, complete with veins and an engorged head. The only oddity was that the straw took a fork near the base of the dildo, creating a small hole near the flat part of the lid.

Angelica ordered for some dessert, and once that had been accomplished she placed the bowl on the floor next to her chair. Marie received the order to eat, and grabbed at the bowl hungrily, trying in vain to open it.

After a few minutes of fruitless prying, she sighed and put her lips around the tip of the straw-cock and began to suck. She tugged at her cuffs in frustration as she succeeded only in drawing up air through the fork at the base.

Angelica was nearly finished with her dessert by the time Marie figured out that she could fix the straw by plugging the secondary hole with her finger and push down on the lid with her fist so that the straw’s bottom reached the salty porridge. She was not able to finish her meal before Angelica ordered her to clear away all the dishes (including the cock-bowl), but she felt stronger and her stomach no longer growled.

With dinner out of the way, Angelica lead Marie into the living room, and had her kneel by one of the fainting couches. Angelica reclined and flipped through a fetish photography coffee-table book, occasionally mumbling noises of approval.

Marie again found herself forced to kneel while the busty Domme occupied herself. She had by now become used to spending long periods waiting, many times in various states of bondage. But today the wiggling glove-fingers between her legs had stoked the fire in her loins, and it burned for the woman she was now serving. Sitting still was out of the question.

She resisted the temptation to toy with her wrist-chain, and began discreetly looking around the room. The fetishy photographs on the wall were tastefully done, but extremely erotic. Marie found herself shifting her hips slightly, a balloony finger slipping back and forth over her clitoris and causing her hood piercing to twist slightly.

Marie tensed and squeezed her thighs together, admiring Angelica’s legs as she teased her pussy beneath the wide and bouncy layers of rubber. Her breath caught as she found herself panting and shuddering, hoping that she could take her pleasure without being discovered.

Marie chewed on her lower lip, hoping that the black wig hid her flush face. She closed her eyes and sucked in a gasp of breath through her nose, Struggling to stifle a whimper.

Before she even realized what had happened, she was bent double over the fainting couch. Angelica had hoisted her to her feet and thrown her over the sturdy back of it, hooking her wrist-chain to some attachment between the cushions.

Marie tugged instinctively against her wrist cuffs, bending her knees and kicking her black shoes in the air as if to throw her weight against the chain. She turned her head from side to side, trying to see what Angelica was doing behind her. She saw Angelica catch her swinging foot by the ankle and pull it down to the floor, where it was suddenly pulled downward by a soft cuff of some sort. The other leg was soon secured a foot or so away.

“Some little girls simply cannot sit still!” Angelica scolded. “Well don’t worry, slave, I’ll pay attention to you now. I believe you were at 15 strokes, yes?”

Marie’s heart was still beating from the surprise, “M-m-ma’am?”

“Yes, five for the wig, five for fussing at dinner, and five for attempting to steal food. And now five more for attempting to take your pleasure without permission.” Angelica walked to a 17th century English gun case full of crops and spreader bars. She opened it and selected a wide leather slapper from one peg.

Marie finally caught her breath and buried her face in the cushions of the fainting couch as Angelica arranged the fingers of her petticoat so as to completely expose her rear end. Marie felt the dominant woman caress her cheeks and thighs tenderly, as if feeling for the most appropriate spots to land her blows. The anticipation was, as intended, perhaps worse than the strokes themselves would be.

“Ma’am?” Marie whimpered, an idea occurring to her that could help speed up the process, “May I please be gagged?”

This almost seemed to take Angelica by surprise, but she quickly recalled the page that she had seen Marie dwell over in the slave’s primer. A smirk passed over her face, and she grunted her permission before fetching the gag.

Marie was biting her lower lip when the two-inch red ball pressed against her teeth. She hesitated, unsure if she had made a wise decision, and soon felt a hand pinch her neck behind her jaw, causing her mouth to spring open automatically. The gag was shoved behind her teeth quickly, forcing her tongue against the bottom of her mouth, and then buckled quickly beneath the back of her wig.

“Well now, is that better, slave? Is it everything you wanted?”

Marie grunted a muffled “Yes Ma’am” that passed more noise through her nostrils than her lips, and then immediately squealed as the slapper came forcefully down against her left thigh.

Angelica’s strokes were made more powerful by the fact that Marie was pulled taut against the wide surface of the fainting couch. She wailed into her cherry-red ball, gusts of air wheezing through her teeth and nose as ropes of spittle pooled on the chemically treated cushions.

Marie’s protests lost their energy as Angelica landed the seventeenth, then eighteenth stroke. She braced herself for the last two, relieved that her punishment was complete.

“Now let’s see here. How many was that? I’m used to having the slave count for me. Hmmm, let’s say twelve!”

Marie forgot herself and fought her bonds as Angelica rained fresh strokes onto red and swollen flesh. Her protests became a high-pitched nasal keening that reddened her face as she took long gaps between breaths.

When at last the punishment had finished, Angelica returned the slapper and closed the gun cabinet. “I’m going to go to bed now. You’ll want to sleep on your stomach anyway, so I’ll fetch you in the morning and you can have a day to yourself. Sweet dreams!”

Marie sighed through her nose as the lights went out, and watched Angelica strut over to the staircase and disappear up into the master bedroom. She mused over her decision to exercise her rights as a slave, chewing the enormous red ball thoughtfully. Whatever rights she had, they were dwarfed by the rights to her body that her masters and mistresses claimed.

Marie hummed softly to herself until at last she drifted to sleep.

Sanctuary in the Attic

I have not been up here for ages. Right after my auntie’s death I had superficially rummaged through the whole house but although I had inherited everything I still felt reluctant to go through the boxes with faded black and white photos, yellowish letters written by hand and with old type writers. It still felt like sneaking through the privacy of another person. So I more or less had forgotten about the attic. Only when wind or rain or some animal I could not identify made a creaking sound somewhere far above or deep below me I wondered if there was not some ghost or spirit who now inhabited the house together with me.

But now my curiosity had been triggered by Dr. Rosenstock. What kind of secrets did my aunt have that he did not want to reveal? And had he learned about them as her Doctor? Or in what other function? I tried to imagine diseases someone might keep secret even after one’s death. Venereal diseases? She had never been shy about body functions so I ruled that out. She had apparently been married happily with my uncle who had died young, and she had never been married again. She hardly spoke about him, and I rarely asked because of the visible pain it gave her. She reminded me of Queen Victoria who mourned about his beloved Albert even decades after his death.

Funny to think of her in this Victorian house, I thought as I climbed up the steep wooden ladder up to the attic. The key screeched in the hole, and then I pushed the trap door up and let it fall onto the attic floor. Clouds of dust rose and danced in the sunbeams falling through the crevices in the roof. The broken tiles made me think about the repairs I urgently needed to get done as soon I’d find the money. But I discarded the thought and approached the old large wardrobe which looked as if it had been standing against the chimney wall since the days of Methusalem.

The key looked like forged by an old fashioned locksmith. Involuntarily I touched my necklace and realized that I had hardly thought of it in the last days. Curious. As if it had already become a part of me. The wardrobe doors opened with resistance, reluctantly. An odor of dusty fabric enwrapped me. There was cotton, denim, silk, and, no doubt about it, a definite element of old leather. It made me think of the comfortable red armchair in the Doctor’s cabinet or of the old convertible Mercedes which still stood in the garage unused when I had first visited my aunt. I had no idea what had become of it but remember hiding and crouching in the narrow spot behind the driver’s seat for hours when I had first learned about the accident of my parents. Slowly, gradually, the scent of the old leather had soothed me.

The long clothes rail was packed, the robes sorted by color. On the far left was a wedding dress. I carefully took it out. A complicated structure of laces and veils, long to the floor, with a crinoline but, strange enough, no sleeves. A sleeveless dress back in the 30ies or 40ies? But the dress had no arm openings either! I was intrigued. I examined it more carefully and looked into the back opening. The dress had a high collar, was plain on the front and criss-cross-laced at the back down from the small of the waist up to the neck. Impossible to get into it alone, I realized. But then those were probably times where people had still maids. I felt dizzy.

Gently but firmly the maid leads my left arm into an inner sleeve which is sewn to the inside of the dress. I have to twist my arm and realize that the sheath will bend it slightly backward in a way that my palm will rest on my buttock once the laces are closed. The elbows will make my waist look much wider than I really am. I frown but the maid who seems to read my mind hushes me with a smile.

“We will tie you really tight, Miss, and you will look nearly as slim as you always do!”

I allow her to lead my right arm into the matching sleeve. My arms now touch the white corset reinforced with thin steel rods every two inches that is wrapped all around my torso. Only my breasts are covered by a stretchy material which feels nice but which I have never before seen or felt.

“Your future father in law brought it back from a business trip to Malaysia, Miss. He is convicted that it will make its way. It is the same material they use for car tires, just thinner. Juice from the caoutchouc tree, if I understood right, Miss.”

It is thinner than paper and white, nearly transparent. Somehow it makes me feel more naked than if by breasts are bare. But now the upper part of the dress covers it all, the corset, the wrapped breasts, my arms. The maid holds her word and ties me in. Tight. I watch her and my own silhouette in the mirror as the dress gains shape. I can only breathe now in short, shallow gasps. Once she is done the maid turns me round to allow me a look on my back. The gap is closed! I feel proud. My husband will have the prettiest bride of the decade. The maid hooks fake arms into the shoulders of my dress, with opera gloves which reach far up over the elbow. Nobody will realize my confinement as brides don’t shake hands on wedding days. The fake arms are slightly bent and sewn with a few invisible stitches to my crinoline. A tiny lace handbag hangs around my right wrist.

“But the ring! How will Albert…?”

The maid smiles. “It will hurt, Miss, but you will be very proud once you wear it! And don’t worry! The other guests won’t realize as you will be very well veiled.”

That does not quite answer my question but I let it pass. She turns me an leans my forehead torso against the pillar in the middle of the room. Everybody has evaded my questions about the meaning of the row of rings embedded into the pillar from the floor up to the ceiling. “You will learn about them in good time”, or “Ask again once Albert has wed you”, was all I ever heard. Now I see them inches away, and this finally is my wedding day. And my 16th birthday. Very indecently, I feel my crotch get warm. I am excited. And thankful that my arm sheaths saves me from any temptation. I am still a virgin. For a few more hours. My excitement grows. But Albert will not be able to make love to me while I still wear this underskirt, I realize, as the maid laces it tight. She is in the height of my knees now, and my thighs touch tightly. She works herself down to my ankles, and the length of my stride is reduced to inches. The ankle boots raise my natural frame by more than 4 inches, and only now the crinoline hiding my constricting undergarment hangs free down to the floor. The crinoline is buckled close in the small of my back, adding pressure to my lower arms. Another skirt is hung over it. And a third one. The weight of the skirts now becomes very sensible.

“Here is a present from your Groom, Miss. I was told to present it to you here and now! Do you want it?”

“If I want it, Betty? Oh, how stupid you are! Of course I want my wedding present!”

“Are you sure, Miss? And you don’t want to know first what it is? As it is.. If I dare to say… a bit unusual, Miss. They have a tradition of special hats in this household, but in this case…”

She holds up a flat hat with a stiff wide flap, six inches at least in all direction, and a thick white veil hanging down at all sides too, like a curtain. I am going to look like a mysterious queen, and I love it at first sight. So this is why I had to cut off all my beautiful blond curls, the pride of my childhood days? She lifted the veil and now I discovered the layer underneath.

“As you wish, Miss!”

She opens the laces in the back of the leather hood, sheathes my head into it, finds the eye and nose openings, pulls it tight over my face and starts lacing it. There is no mouth opening.

“How am I going to say ‘I do’, Betty?” I ask, my speech a bit hampered by the tight leather embrace around my jaws and chin. But I realize that although a bit muffled I can make myself hears.

The hood covers the bridge of my nose. Betty approaches my face with a thick needle and apologizes.

“I hate to hurt you, Miss. But as you said yourself – about the ring, you know? And how Master Albert can attach it to you with your hands down there?”

My hands grasp my tender buttock flesh as I realize what she is going to do. I embrace myself against the shock but the sharp pain as the needle transpierces my septum with one swift movement makes me cry out. The maid soothes me and rubs the wound with some pain relieving and blood stopping ointment. A small silver bar is threaded through the hole. The touch of the metal is cold. At the end Betty hooks in a small, elegant chain which now dangles right under the tip of my nose.

As the pain diminishes I start to feel proud again. I feel like the proud queen of an African tribe showing off the wealth of her family with her body jewelry.

The maid takes me under the fake arm and slowly, as my stride is limited, leads me out of the dressing room.

I woke up, still dizzy, but with the strange persuasion that something was wrong. I never have been married?! An early sunbeam tickled my nose. My nose? A terrible suspicion comes to my mind. I take a closer look at the reflection above me. Although I already know it I have to touch it with my finger. A ring is lying on my upper lip. With a small chain it is linked to a bar that runs right through my septum. I can undo the small chain on one side and take the ring off, but the bar is in my nose for good. The eyeholes forged to its ends are bigger than the hole in my septum. I hook the chain back to that eyehole and look at the ring in my hand. There is an engraving at the inside:

Albert * Emily * July 21st, 1936

My aunt Emily was born on July 21st, 1920.

Formal Instruction

After her day off, Marie slept curled up in a basket at the foot of the bed. She was curled up largely because she was ball-tied with soft black rope.

She slept well, although Angie cried out once, in the middle of the night. Marie wished at that moment that she could climb onto the bed and comfort the woman she cared for so dearly. All memory of the torments she had suffered at Angelica’s hands seemed unimportant as she imagined the two of them slithering between the latex bedsheets.

The next morning, Angelica fussed around the bedroom and bath for an hour or so getting ready before untying Marie. After a five-minute automated shower, Marie punched up her assigned outfit. When it arrived, she looked at Angelica, puzzled.

Marie felt terrible. The tee shirt scratched her back. The cotton bra was uncomfortable on her breasts. The inner fabric of the fluffy sweat shirt seemed to burn her naked arms. The soft cotton panties itched terribly in crotch. The blue jeans felt rough and scratchy against her smooth hairless legs. Her hands felt naked without gloves or cuffs, and the wool scarf seemed to strangle her.

Exposing the skin of her face to the fresh November air seemed to turn it all raw, reddish and sore. Marie felt like a well protected child or a house pet suddenly released to a rough and hostile environment.

“Why have I been ordered to go out in everyday street clothes?” Marie muttered to herself, suddenly aware of the absence of any gag, “I feel so much better now in latex and leather, silk and kink!”

The red real-hair wig felt warm and clinging in comparison to the latex masks and hoods she had worn. The flat penny-loafers gave her the feeling that she waddled clumsily like a duck on oversized feet.

Marie caught her reflection in some store window and saw nothing but a very normal, casually clothed woman in her twenties, similar to the woman she had been only weeks ago: perhaps slightly slimmer, but somehow out of tune with herself. She sensed that she was neglecting her real nature; and that made her feel conspicuous, as though she were parading naked in the middle of the road.

Marie quickened her pace, eager to reach to the Agency. She longed for it as a sailor in a storm yearns for safe harbour. She was cold through to her heart.

As she waited for a walk signal, a good looking young man asked for directions to the nearest post office, but Marie simply cast her eyes down as if she hadn’t understood a word.

Thrusting her hand into the depths of her pocket and fishing for her subway fare seemed somehow suggestive and obscene, without being at all erotic. Repulsed by this combination, Marie slipped into the very last car of her train, feeling just as shameful as she had when riding to the locksmith in her slutty clothes only a few days ago.

Were all of the passengers staring at her?

Old Miss Applebee sat there at the other end of the car with a satisfied expression on her face. “Serves you well, slut! You are lost to this world now!” the old teacher’s eyes seemed to say.

And just then, did the panties and bra shrink against her body?

Marie felt a cold sweat break, trickling from her brow. She pressed her forehead against the cool metal pole by to the door. Why were there no shackles attached to it, holding her tight and safe? Why was she all on her own with the responsibility to find her way back to the Agency?

Marie was happy and relieved to finally arrive at the beaux-artes red brick building, its firm pillars projecting strength and confidence to its visitors. She rang the doorbell and was soon allowed to enter The Agency.

Out of breath, Marie arrived at the reception desk and asked for her school uniform. With a warm smile the middle-aged receptionist gestured toward an elegant leather chair opposite her desk, and then returned her attention to what Marie realized was a blank sheet of paper.

Marie waited. And waited.

She knew better than to ask when or how or why, but her fidgeting and fussing would have betrayed her impatience to anybody who passed. Of course, nobody did pass. There was just an elegant receptionist behind a large mahogany desk and a casually clothed young woman wringing her hands and rubbing her buttocks on a waiting lounge chair.

Marie started to study the receptionist more closely. Did she hear a buzz, like a cell phone in silent mode, or was that just the lights? It seemed as though the receptionist stiffened, her posture more upright. Her jaw seemed to clench with a punctuated yet irregular rhythm, and her eyes searched the air as though she were listening to something no one else could hear.

After a minute of this, the woman suddenly relaxed, her face softening and her shoulders dropping slightly. She looked over at Marie and smiled warmly, taking a box out of one of the desk drawers and holding it out.

Marie stood up, her gaze following the receptionist’s gesture to a dressing room door just down the hall. “Undress and dress carefully, slave Marie! It will be beneficial for your standing in this organization if you make a good impression!”

Puzzled, Marie took the box and walked down to the marked door. Her confusion evaporated when she stepped inside. It was equipped like a full studio, with cameras and microphones in all corners, two walls fully mirrored. Marie quickly understood that this was a stage. The moment the door closed behind her, soft diffused lightboxes flickered on and little red lights all over indicated the cameras that would capture her performance.

Marie smiled as she set the box down on a high wooden stool, and started to strip. Oh how wonderful it felt to get rid of those itchy “normal” clothes again! She took off the scarf and slowly pulled the old Vienna University sweat shirt over her head, allowing the spectators a lingering shot of her exposed belly. She giggled as the fabric snapped past her small breasts, causing them to jiggle slightly.

Marie then removed flat shoes that she now found so ugly. She sat on the corner of the only chair in the room and pulled the jeans down over her slender legs, giving playful kicks in the air as she flung the rough denim across the room. She traced a high arc with one foot and sat with her legs spread wide, knees high, feet en-pointe and touching the floor only with the knuckles of her toes. She felt sexy and electric, shedding the mundane skin of a dowdy loser to reveal the succulent flesh of the slave beneath.

A minute later she sighed with relief as she finally stood bare from head to toe. After a moment of hesitation she reached back and took off the wig. Not a single hair remained on her body but eyelashes. Satisfied, she opened the box to put on her uniform.

Marie flipped through the contents so that she could put on her underwear first. There were shoes, stockings, a skirt and a blouse – but no underwear. She shrugged, and then giggled again. It hardly surprised her at all.

Reaching into the box, she decided to try on the skirt first. At a first glance it looked like your everyday, powder blue plaid school uniform skirt. It was slightly shorter, perhaps, and normal pupils probably don’t go to school in A-line PVC skirts. And of course they would wear panties underneath.

It was not hard for Marie to imagine the views she would provide when bending forward. Eyeing the blinking cameras, she tried it. First tentatively, then, remembering the receptionist’s advice, more wantonly. Still wearing nothing but the skirt, Marie turned her back to the cameras, crossed her legs and bent forward at the waist to grab her ankles with both hands. She moaned slightly as she imagined herself held in this peculiar yoga pose by wooden stocks.

Still mindful of her invisible spectators, she picked up the short white latex stockings. Remembering her lesson from the weekend, she pointed her toes into them daintily and smoothed them gently over her calf. They came to just below her knees, with a light blue satin ribbon tied in a bow around her upper calves.

The blouse was white as well, and made of very sheer synthetic fabric. Marie tugged it around her torso to discover that it was at least one size too small. After closing its black buttons it was obvious that this was not by accident but intended to squeeze her breasts up into a noticeable cleavage. The strained buttons made little gaps through which one could easily see skin. Marie tied the loose front tails in a quick knot above her stomach and reached for the accessories at the bottom of the box.

What looked like the mockery of a black necktie turned out to be an inch wide dog collar. The wide end threaded through a ring at the bottom of the narrow end, providing a simple leash. A pull on this leash would quickly convince the collared girl to follow, as it was more like a choking collar with a tartan painted on it than anything else. Marie did her best to cover the buttons of her blouse with the leash-tie, and moved on.

The shoes were patent high-heeled mary janes, similar to the ones she had worn with her maid uniform, but these did not lock on. The final item in the box was her wig. It was girlish black hair, two pigtails hanging down left and right – but these were braided and had metal rings attached to the ends of the braids. Marie carefully covered her bald head again and soon had the two rings of the braids dangling on either side of her breasts.

She smiled to her invisible audience and made a slight curtsey, flashing her sparkling silver clit-ring as she lifted her glossy abbreviated skirt. Folding her old clothes into the box, she left the dressing room imagining applause and catcalls. Marie was a proud little girl on her first day of school.

Marie followed directions and realized that she was uncharacteristically early. The classroom was still empty, giving her time to inspect it closely. It was an old fashioned classroom, probably the same age as the building itself, with two rows of wooden desks with attached benches. Each row was held together by one long steel pole running horizontally from the back of the room to the front plate of the first desk. Three sets of bench-desk combinations were bolted together like that, one behind another, the front plate of the desk serving as back rest for the pupil in front. Each bench seated two pupils, with the pole dividing the bench between them. Once they were seated, the poles would be at about waist height.

One pole at the left, one at the right. Six places at the left, six at the right: a class of 12. The legs of the benches and desks were bolted to the floor. This was not a friendly discussion-circle classroom, and all attention was focused on the instructor. Marie smelled discipline in the air. Strict obedience. Rulers on the fingers and canes on the buttocks of cheeky pupils. It had probably been this way for a century at least, and only now were the students afforded the honesty of outright sexual slavery.

Where the pole ran through, separating the pupils’ seats from one another, there were holes and eyebolts, ready for all sorts of attachments. In the middle of each of the 12 seats were two holes, one behind the other. The teacher’s desk was on a platform with two steps on one side, making it about one foot higher than the rest of the classroom. The students would be forced to look up to their instructor and tormentor.

Playfully, Marie took a seat in the back row, discovering an elaborate system of metal rings, bolts and chains. She could not figure out the mechanism behind all of the cuffs and chains but it was obvious that there would be no running around in the classroom.

Marie felt the two inch-wide holes under her crotch in the middle of the seat. The seat next to her, on the other side of the pole, was fully equipped: two fat black rubber dildos mounted through the holes. The very thought of feeling them inside her during class warmed her loins.

She reached across the pole and took the cunt intruder into her hand. So nice and squeezy, so soft… It was coated with some slimy jelly, and Marie stroked it as if she were giving a hand job to a young man. She giggled at how silly she was acting, but admitted quietly to herself that everything she saw and touched in this room made her feel horny.

Exploring all the bindings and attachments on the desk, Marie kicked against something under the seat, discovering a pair of high-heeled steel shoes bolted into the floor. She gently touched them with the tip of her own black leather shoe, watching the swinging hinge mechanism that would automatically lock if she slipped her foot into it.

As she began wondering where the other pupils were, Marie heard a faint conversation outside the building. The voices grew louder as she listened. Turning her head, she saw that the windows to her left opened onto a square inner courtyard, surrounded on all sides by the red brick of The Agency’s building.

Peering out at an office directly opposite the classroom, Marie realized that she could make out the chair she had sat in when she first came to The Agency and discovered Angie’s betrayal. Seeing the room from the outside, and re- living the whole ordeal, Marie understood that she was no longer mad at her friend, and almost found herself grateful for the life of excitement that she now led.

As the voices grew still nearer, Marie looked down to see a glossy black statue strapped to a hand-truck. The female figure was quite realistic but for the lack of arms and the gleaming white bulb where the head should be. The cart was being pushed by one of the orderlies, and was accompanied by a man in his late 40s who carried himself with an air of old Europe and old money. An agent from the organization, clad in knee-high heeled boots and a very seductive bright red leather dress, strutted behind the Gentleman, hanging on his every word. As they passed beneath the classroom window, Marie was finally able to make out bits of their conversation.

The agent, in her late twenties and sporting long blonde ringletted curls too beautiful to be true, sounded very eager to please. “Yes, Mr. KC, we can assure you that your wife will be in perfect shape once she has undergone our refresher course! It will be an enduring and rewarding experience: exercising her endurance so you can reap the rewards!”

“Well hello there!” Marie jumped, startled, as a voice came from behind her. She turned around to find a tall voluptuous blonde woman wearing an identical school uniform to hers, the short cut of the shiny material showing off her slender legs and round hips.

“H-hello… I’m Marie!” Marie stuttered, still somewhat ashamed at being caught eavesdropping on the courtyard below. “I’m–”

“–the new girl…” the tall blonde interrupted, her face in a condescending smirk. “Yes, well I’m sure you’re here to learn how to be a good little slave. I’m sure you have a powerful Mistress who will flog anyone who comes near you, but in this school you will learn to serve me.”

Marie stopped and stared, her jaw working slightly as she tried to find words to answer.

“Cat got your tongue? Well let’s see what you can do, new girl.” the blonde said the words as though she were spitting out a bad meal. She grabbed Marie’s necktie-leash and led her over to the teacher’s desk. Hopping up on the wide slab, she hiked her skirt up to reveal a perfectly smooth shaven pussy.

Marie clutched mutely at the base of her leash, resisting out of confusion even as her submissive reflexes made her follow the blonde girl’s tugs toward her snatch.

“Get to work, new girl. We’ve only got three minutes before class, and you’d better give me a double orgasm or I can make your life here a living hell.”

Marie hesitantly obeyed, jerking her face and taking tentative flicks at the blonde’s slit.

“You can do better than that!” the blonde laughed, and pushed Marie’s head in deep. Soon Marie was slurping and manipulating the girl’s twat with a fervor, and the blonde moaned in response.

“What is the meaning of this?” a shrill voice called from the doorway. Marie’s head was pushed back and she blinked in the light, squinting at a dark-haired woman in a black pencil skirt and pewter blouse. The woman wore fishnets over pewter latex tights, and towering stilettos.

The blonde instantly straightened her skirt and hopped to attention, mumbling “nothing, Ma’am…”. Marie fumbled to her feet, the taste of the blonde’s pussy still on her lips, and stared like a deer caught in headlights.

The schoolmarm strode over to the desk with sexy hip-swaying confident strides and looked down over her cat-eyed glasses at the two girls. “That’s one hour detention for both of you!”

The blonde turned to Marie and growled under her breath, “You’ll pay for this, slut!”

Head of the Class

Marie winced at the double punishment of detention and the blonde bully-girl’s wrath. Looking around, she saw with surprise that several girls had filed in already, each in identical school uniforms to hers, the black leashes hanging like neckties from the collars of their white rubber blouses. They were sitting with their backs straight upright, hands folded on their desks, watching the teacher intently.

The blonde rushed to her seat, casting curses at Marie as she went. Marie realized with dismay that the only available desk was the one right next to her. Stomach sinking, Marie swung carefully into her seat, conscious of the two holes beneath her rear. On the other side of the pole dividing her desk from the blonde’s, Marie could faintly hear threats and mutterings.

The teacher’s latex pencil skirt creaked as she rose to her full height. Standing behind the desk, she clapped a long cane into the palm of her hand, cracking loudly.

“Class!” She managed to bellow without shouting, projecting no-nonsense authority in a conversational volume, “Stand and recite the pledge of submission!”

As one girl, the entire class rose. Marie stumbled to her feet, standing next to her desk. Looking around, she saw that all the other girls in front of her stood with their heads bowed and their wrists together behind their backs. Some had their fingers woven together, while others balled their fists so that their knuckles touched. Some of the girls managed to bring their elbows close together, but most were simply thrusting their shoulders back.

Marie tried to copy this position, but found herself mumbling along to the pledge without knowing the words. Fortunately, the other girls’ voices were loud enough that she could just move her lips and listen.

I pledge submission to my owner

and to the Agency that guides me.

I swear to obey

my Masters and Mistresses

completely and without hesitation.

I thank them for punishing my disobedience

and beg no mercy from their discipline.

I take no pleasure for myself,

the pleasure of those I serve my only goal.

These things I swear

by my life of eternal slavery.

As the girls all finished, Marie still mumbling “eternal slavery” under her breath, the teacher ordered all to be seated except Marie. Marie thought she could hear grunts from the row behind her, but ignored it as she wondered why she was required to remain standing.

“Class, you will notice that we have found a student to replace little Eliza. She is a brand new recruit, having signed only last week. Alas she has earned herself detention this afternoon, so the official student hazing will have to be delayed until tomorrow. With luck this will give you plenty of time to bring your favorite toys, so I expect an exemplary demonstration! Now sit, Marie!”

Stunned, Marie sank back into her desk. The teacher put on a pair of cat-eyed reading glasses and began to recite the lesson plan, covering the exercises that were assigned for the day. Marie couldn’t concentrate on the announcements, however, because the blonde next to her was still muttering threats about the toys her Mistress would give her to bring to Marie’s hazing.

The teacher was no slouch however, “…finishing our workshop on–Slave Melody! Do you have something to share with the class?”

The blonde bully slipped effortlessly into a demure answer, “Slave Marie has not brought her textbook with her, and Slave Melody humbly offers hers to share.”

“How magnanimous of you, Slave Melody. However had you been paying attention to the morning announcements instead of constantly running that tongue of yours, you would have heard that today is strictly laboratory exercises. Neither you nor Slave Marie need your texts today, and you were instructed on Friday to leave them at home. Spend an extra half hour’s detention today and we’ll see what we can do about your tongue, your ears, and your memory.”

The class tittered as Melody’s eyes flared with frustration. “As you command, Ma’am.”

The labs for the day began with a demonstration of fellatio skills. With a flourish that drew gasps from the classroom, the teacher peeled a banana completely and caused it to disappear into her throat. Head tipped back like a sword swallower, she worked it up and down a little before producing it again unscathed. The girls oohed and aahed as she gave them a view of her neck muscles bulging around four whole kielbasa sausages, and Marie had to admit she was astonished by the show.

“Pound for pound,” the teacher lectured, clearing her throat daintily, “fellatio has the greatest amount of muscle power under the slave’s control. A skilled slave can manipulate her throat muscles to produce more ecstasy in her Master than even the most expert Kegel manipulations. Of course it is difficult to prolong this manipulation, which is why we still teach vaginal constriction exercises. But if you are required to bring a man off within a specified time limit you could do worse than a controlled deep-throating.”

The demonstration over, the teacher resumed her stern tone. “Pair up and take a dildo set from the box on my desk.”

Marie looked frantically around the room to find a partner other than Melody. Her heart beat fast as she caught the eye of a cute girl in stylish glasses and a blue wig. Sighing with relief at the other girl’s nod, she stumbled over to her desk pair.

“Hi Marie! I’m Kusako.” The girl, obviously a few years younger than Marie, stood up and curtseyed. As she did so, her cleanly-shaven pubis peeked out from under her lifted skirt. Marie smiled and thanked her, but did not return the gesture.

“Have a seat, and I’ll go get the supplies!” Kusako chirped, and hopped off to the teacher’s desk. Marie sat down and cast a glance over at her old desk. Melody was holding an acrylic dong in her hands like a cigar, and gossipping with another blonde girl. She caught Marie’s glance and returned it with a smouldering scowl.

“Okay, here we go!” Kusako had returned with a padded roll of smallish dildos, from a thin silicone plug down to a heavy rubber inflatable. Each of them was tethered to the roll by a thin plastic cable, and they all had numbers. Next to the roll was an instructional card and a jar of flavored lubricant.

Marie looked at the ensemble, unsure, “So what do we do with all this?”

“Oh it’s easy. We start off small and work our way up. I’m already at number five, so I’ll probably start with a four just to be sure. But you’ll have to start with the smallest even if you’re an expert.”

Marie did not feel like explaining that she had been forced to take the throat-numbing spritz in order to deep-throat the orderlies the previous week. Instead she let Kusako direct her through the training procedure, #1 dildo in hand, cable looped around her thumb for emergency removal, and with her head tilted back.

“There you go, just suckle on it for a while and let gravity drag it down a little. It’s soft, so you can just swallow… Nervous? Here.” Kusako guided her hand back, withdrawing the silicone prong from her mouth, and applied some of the flavored goo to the tip. “This will help you salivate a little more, making it easier to hold the gag reflex.”

Marie tasted the sweet orange syrup that clung to the soft cock. She felt her mouth slicken, and instinctively began to swallow. She felt her muscles contract around the squishy shape, and began working it in and out.

“That’s it girl, just work up a rhythm and let it take over…” Kusako soothed, massaging Marie’s throat gently with her slender fingers.

The two took turns spotting each other as they suckled successively larger and firmer prongs. When Marie moved on to her first solid dildo, she was worried that she would not be able to make it work. Kusako did all of her tricks as she had done on the previous times: talking in a soothing tone, massaging her throat, and spreading flavored lube on the tip. However, as Marie struggled to relax and let the object down her throat, Kusako leaned forward and as casually as a schoolgirl hugging her friend she reached under Marie’s skirt and began massaging her clit.

Marie didn’t even have time to act startled. At once her body took over and swallowed the solid cock almost completely. It worked its way in and out twice, the world dissolving. Soon Marie found herself in the stone courtyard again, her mistress’s long boot-heel thrusting in and out of her mouth as she worshipped it.

You learn quickly, slave. But take great care what company you keep. I am not the only Mistress in the world, and there are those slaves who dream of the rewards for capturing another slavegirl for the harem… Especially one as talented as you.

Marie continued to suck her Mistress’s boot, the woman’s true form hidden in the shadows. As she looked up, though, she saw figures moving in the background, behind the sedan chair where her Mistress couldn’t see. She thought she saw chains and cuffs being passed between hooded figures.

Marie wanted to call out, to warn her Mistress, but her throat would only squeeze and suck and push the spike, kneading it and pulling it. She barely felt herself breathe, and her pussy…

Marie blinked, her hand being tugged gently from her lips, the dildo trailing out ropes of heavy drool. Blushing, Marie let Kusako take the thing from her to clean it.

“Any longer, and you’ll go hoarse!” Kusako giggled, “I’d say you really have a talent for it, Marie. Your muscles will remember how, now, and the real important thing is all the shapes and sizes. Anyway, it’s time for rope practice–I hate working with knots!”

Marie swallowed, a brief look of confusion changing to an embarrassed flush as she realized how silly she was being.

“Oh, I know… Everyone expects me to be born good at nawashibari or something, but I’ve always been better with steel than hemp. C’mon, let’s tidy up and move on to the gym.”

The two girls spent the next hour following the gym teacher’s examples, weaving harnesses, cuffs, and binders. The coup de grace came when Marie attracted the instructor’s attention long enough to be directed in binding Kusako in a full suspension tie.

They returned to the classroom, and Kusako was showing off her rope marks to another girl when the lunch bell sounded.

“Sorry Marie, I won’t be eating lunch with you. I have someone to go see first.”

Marie was confused, not sure what the rules were, “You mean we are free to wander during lunch break?”

“Well,” Kusako wrinkled her nose a little, “you have to get a hall pass, and you can only go a few places, but you have the whole hour to yourself. Why, is there someone you wanted to go see?”

“Well, I met someone who said to see him at cell 647. Do you know where that is?”

“Ohhhh, you’ve got a favorite in the staff cells, I see! Well that’s up on the sixth floor. I’m going to the seventh so we can ride the lift together. C’mon, let’s get our hall passes.”

Marie was amused, but not completely surprised to learn that the “hall pass” was more than just a laminated card. Kusako and Marie were made to bend and grab their ankles while metal plugs were greased and pushed into their behinds. The plugs were part of an integrated chastity belt that was tightened over their shaved pussies and locked on.

Marie shifted a little to get used to the intruder in her anus, but Kusako gave another adorable little curtsey. Marie saw the lights on the front of the belt flicker as the girl lifted the hem of her skirt, and realized that it reminded her of the nurse’s belt. Shaking her head, she followed her classmate out toward the lift.

“Try not to be late getting back.” Kusako warned as they waited for the sixth floor, “The fourth alert is really unpleasant. Just head for the lift when you feel the first tingle, and you’ll be fine–Oh! Here’s your floor! Have fun! See you back in class!”

Marie waved and hopped out of the elevator, guessing that she knew what her friend was talking about but hoping she didn’t have to find out the hard way. Walking down a long hall of what looked like prison cells, she found her way to #647. In it, like all the others, was a listless young man in a leather harness and solid codpiece, watching a kinky movie projected against one wall.

“Well hello there!” the young orderly sat up suddenly in his bed, all smiles. “I knew you’d come!”

Marie curtseyed the way she’d seen Kusako do it, lifting the hem of her short skirt. The orderly smiled through the bars of his cell.

“So I see you’re in class now. How long do you have?”

“A little under an hour.” Marie guessed, “I’d have stayed for lunch, but I haven’t any food and I didn’t want to spend the whole time in the room with Melody.”

“Well I have some leftovers you’re welcome to share, but I’m afraid I can’t help you with Melody. If you’ve managed to cross her, then I truly feel sorry for you.”

“Thank you.” Marie muttered, accepting the plate that he passed through the bars, “So you know her?”

“Know her?” The orderly sighed wearily, and sat back down on his bed. “She used to be my Mistress.”

Mistress Melody

The Orderly handed Marie some of his lunch through the bars of his cell, and she ate as he told the story of Melody.

He had met Melody at a bondage picnic in a nearby national park. She had charmed him with her fire and sex appeal, and by the end of the month she had collared him. He lived with her and tended to her needs, and they played in ways that he had never dreamed possible. As Marie watched him speak, she could see the love he had for Melody mixed with painful regret.

“She was a ferocious businesswoman, and her work began to take up more and more of her time. Sometimes she’d leave me locked in my cage and stay at work until midnight. I could see that the stress was eating away at her, and I think her business was going poorly (although she would never admit it to me).

“One day she just dragged me to the stocks and began whipping me without stopping. I cried out for mercy, and even used the safeword that we had invented before my collaring. She just wouldn’t stop. Eventually I blacked out, and found myself in the emergency room.

“Our doctor was part of the group that organized the picnic where we met, and he spoke with me at great length about her behavior. He could tell that I was too in love with her to say anything bad, but I guess he read between the lines. He told me that if I wanted to truly serve her, then I had to help her through this crisis.

“So I got a referral to Dr. Rosenstock, who confirmed a mental breakdown diagnosis. He said there was a special institute, one that did not view our lifestyle as symptoms of mental illness, one that would understand our relationship. He promised nothing, but… he gave us hope.

“I went and visited her every chance I got. It pained me to see my Mistress bound up in straitjackets, doped into compliance. It was months before she and I could have a conversation like old times, but something in her had changed.

“You have to understand that Melody was 100% Domme. The very thought of subbing was completely alien to her. We were given an hour of unsupervised privacy in her padded cell, and I would try to serve her as I had at home. But one day she started… I dunno, bottoming from the top I guess you could say.

“It was subtle at first. She had me make love to her pinned against the wall, or she would start her normal sexual teasing but give in quickly and go all the way. She sucked my cock, held me close, and I started to feel, well… awkward and conspicuous.

“It wasn’t long after that that she started barking orders for me to pull her hair or fuck her tits. She had me take her anally, pin her arms behind her back, pinch her nipples, and finally she demanded that I count out spankings I was giving to her!

“When she was released, I drove her home and prepared a candlelit dinner. I wanted to put her back in her throne and feed her the way I used to, but she spat insults and ordered me to stand up and be a man and sit at the table. She snapped at me all night long, berating me for my weakness. It wasn’t exactly what she said that got to me, but something in the way she said it was different from our usual games.

“I woke in the small hours of the morning to see her sitting before the vanity mirror. It was dark, and she had lit a single candle by the bedside. I remember it was one of the fat red ones she used to pour wax from when she still dommed me. She was just gazing, eyes bottomless pools of shadow, into her own reflection. Her chest rose and fell with deep panicked breaths, and she was… growling, or intoning something just out of the range of hearing.

“As the days went on I found her engaging in elaborate self-bondage using all of my equipment. She got her nipples pierced, and then her clit hood. She started going out dressed in provocative outfits, coming home days later covered in welts or boxed in a crate or stark naked.

“Two weeks later she put me in my straitjacket and chastity tube and locked me in my cage. I looked up into her sad, furious eyes, and moaned a plea for help around my gag. She simply knelt there, palms upturned on her knees, and waited.

“To my horror, several men in black leather entered the room. They hooded her and put her in stocks before leading her away by a leash attached to her clit ring. I had never expected to see her go in such a humiliating way. My cage was hauled into a truck and locked next to hers, and I spent the whole journey watching her broken form shake and moan as we were shipped to this place.

“That is how we came to be here. I was locked into this new belt and given orderly duties, and she has been going through slave training for the past two years. I see her occasionally, and have even been serviced by her a few times, but she never comes to see me. She still has a lot of that dominant fire in her, but the slave girl has almost taken over.”

The orderly sighed, his story finished. Marie had been listening so intently that she didn’t notice that she had finished all the food. She looked into the orderly’s pained face and saw real suffering.

“You still love her.” Marie whispered, wishing simultaneously that she could never leave his side and that he could fly to happiness under the lash of her classroom bully.

“Enough about me, dear.” he sighed, “Tell me who you are and how you came to join this place.”

Marie looked down at her hands, which rested primly on the bars that held her companion captive. “I… I don’t… Well, my Mistress sent me here.”

His face softened, “And is she a loving Mistress?”

“Well, she is a strong mistress, and she reminds me of your description of melody as a Domme, really. I– you see, I haven’t met her yet. I’m not ready, so I am training to be a good slave for her. My good friend Angelica is in charge of me for now.” Was that pity or sympathy Marie saw in the orderly’s face?

“And Angelica, you love her?”

Marie looked up at the man, startled. Shaking somewhat, she pressed her face to the bars, her breath dusting his neck as she spoke in a whisper.

“I do… I used to dream that she would take me in her arms and sweep me away. I once thought that she would be the one person I could tell about my fetishes. I love her dearly and fear that she has chosen the wrong Master. I always thought that when I showed her my erotic side we would become so close, but now we’re both erotic playpets and we live in the same house but it’s like we’re kept in separate kennels and…”

Marie’s eyes were glossy with unspilt tears, and she stayed pressed against the bars, a schoolgirl on tiptoes leaning into the confessional. The orderly stroked her cheek gently with a finger, and before either of them had thought about it they were locked in a gentle and tender kiss.

The kiss held, shifting and exploring. The orderly slipped a hand into Marie’s shirt and massaged a ringed nipple with the tender grace of an expert. Lips parted slightly, and Marie’s sobs became sighs, sighs became gentle moans.

But the moans suddenly became grunts, then squeals, and Marie broke off the kiss and crumpled to her knees, hugging herself in a tight ball.

“What is it? What’s wrong? What did I do?” The orderly knelt down within his cell, watching her with helpless alarm.

Marie stayed curled up for a short time, and then let out a long slow breath. Her shaky hands reached for the bars of the cage, and she pulled herself upright once more.

“No, no.. I’m all right. Really, you didn’t do anything. It wasn’t that bad, it just caught me by surprise is all.” Marie lifted her skirt to reveal a yellow warning light on the front panel of her chastity belt.

“Ah, it must be First Bell already,” the orderly sighed with relief. “You have enough time to make it back to your classroom before the second. Third bell is a harsh one, and truancy mode is something I’m glad I never had to experience!” he gestured to one of the cells down the hall, “During exam week, a group of girls dragged a rival up here and cuffed her to that cell. Her screams lasted the whole four-hour exam period, and three hours in she lost her voice!”

Marie involuntarily put a hand to her behind and began rubbing the belt strap absently as she pushed the lift call button. It came as she was thinking of politics and punishment, and she stepped in. As the doors closed she heard her orderly friend call to her from down the hall.

“Marie!” The Orderly called after her, nearly in tears himself. “If you still can… Submit to the One you want to belong to!”

Detention

Marie made it back into the classroom before second bell, and flushed with embarrassment as she was made to grab her ankles and have the plug removed in front of the whole class. Her “hall pass” was disassembled and the intruding part was dropped into a special bin for cleaning.

Marie sat down, still feeling stretched, and thought dreamily about Angelica and the orderly while the teacher demonstrated corset lacing techniques on the front-row students. Time passed quickly, and soon the school day was over. The girls all stood up and headed for the door, gossipping and chattering.

“Hey girl, you got time to hit the arcade?” Kusako bounced on her toes.

Marie looked over at the teacher and frowned, “No, sorry. I’d love to, but I have an hour of detention first.”

Kusako glanced at the schoolmarm nervously from the corner of her eye, “Oh you poor dear. Well, I’ll wait for you outside in one hour. Deal?”

Marie smiled, “I’ll see you outside.”

Kusako grabbed Marie in a bear-hug, squeezing her tightly enough that both girls’ nipple jewelry could be felt through the material of their shirts. She kissed Marie sweetly on the lips, flicked Marie’s septum ring playfully with her tongue, and skipped out of the room.

Marie sighed and looked over at the smirking teacher who sat arrogantly on her oak desk. The woman’s legs were crossed, and she idly tapped a metal-edged ruler against the palm of her hand. Melody was already kneeling beside her in a position that Marie remembered seeing in her textbook: knees at 90 degrees, hands grasping elbows behind her back, and her chin to her chest. Gulping quietly, Marie rushed to kneel beside the chastised bully.

“Slaves Marie and Melody, you have each earned one hour’s detention for engaging in unauthorized pleasuring… Slave Melody!”

“Yes ma’am!” Melody blurted in startled reply.

“Slave Melody, since your pussy is so hungry for stimulation, you will spend your hour on the doghouse!” The teacher slapped her palm with the ruler for emphasis.

Melody looked up suddenly in horror, but caught the schoolmarm’s glare and quickly averted her eyes back down to the woman’s shoes.

“Slave Marie!” the teacher barked.

“Y-yes ma’am?”

“Slave Marie, since your tongue is so eager to explore, you will spend your hour exercising it for me. Both of you! On your feet!”

Marie reached to the floor to help herself to her feet, but saw that Melody had risen in a single fluid motion without letting go of her elbows. The teacher waved her over to a closet door in the corner of the room and began to unfold a black latex garment on the desk.

Marie stood watching as she saw what looked like a hood built into a pair of hotpants. No explanation was given, however, as the teacher pulled off Marie’s wig and began to unroll the slick sheath around her head. Blackness engulfed her, and she held her breath until she felt air through the mass of rubber at her lips.

When her eyes found their holes, Marie noticed that Melody had removed her shoes and was kneeling in front of what looked like a doghouse on a wheeled platform. Two stirrups with ratcheting cuffs hung from the eaves of the gabled roof, and a pair of hinged handcuffs dangled from a chain in the back.

Satisfied that the hood was seated, its peculiar mass of dangling rubber giving Marie a strange walrus look, the teacher ordered Melody to begin. The quivering schoolgirl rose to her feet and reached over to the doghouse, slipping one latex-clad foot into a stirrup before slowly straddling the gabled peak. Reaching to either side, Melody ratcheted the cuffs closed around her ankles, toes barely touching the supporting straps. Leaning back with an audible grimace, she grabbed the handcuffs and squeezed them closed on her own wrists, shifting forward again until her arms pulled back diagonally.

Marie was so entranced, watching the girl who had bullied her submit so passively, that she did not notice the hinged cuffs being snapped around her own wrists until the teacher wrenched her wrists up to double-lock them.

“Soon, Slave! But first we must start the clock!”

With that, the teacher held up a large brass alarm clock on a chain. Strutting over to Melody, she unbuttoned the girl’s blouse and teased out her breasts, the pierced nipples erect. The woman let the clock hang from the thin chain, revealing that it split into a “Y” shape ending in two clover clamps.

Melody squealed in her throat as the clamps were attached behind her piercings, and the clock allowed to dangle its weight from her nipples. She immediately rocked forward until the weight of the clock was at least partially resting on the peak of the doghouse roof, but the clamps clearly still held her attention.

Marie once more lost track of her teacher, awakened by the snap of a ruler against her thigh. Spinning around, she saw that the woman had peeled her pencil skirt up over her hips somehow, and was gesturing for Marie to kneel.

Obediently, Marie lowered herself to her knees on the hard floor, and was surprised to see the teacher pulling open the drooping part of her hood and climbing in. A little lubing and wriggling later, and Marie found herself unavoidably buried in the schoolmarm’s snatch.

Struggling a little in surprise, Marie felt the latex skirt roll back down over the woman’s thighs, darkening her world and holding her tighter. The snaps at the back were unfastened to loosen the skirt, but it still clung fast as the teacher sat back onto the edge of her seat.

After a little shifting, Marie quickly realized that she was running out of air. Struggling in panic, she pushed her face forward and felt a rewarding puff against her lips. Experimenting, she reached out with her tongue and found that if she pressed against the membrane before her, it would spread the slits around the mouthpiece of her hood.

Feeling an approving pat on her head, Marie groaned with the realization that she was going to have to reach out her tongue and eat this woman out for the better part of an hour if she wanted to breathe. Wincing in her world of rubber womanhood, she set to licking.

“I expect an orgasm at least every ten minutes,” Marie heard muffled through the material of the skirt, “so you’d better get to work.”

She did so. She soon found herself gulping short, shallow breaths as she shoved her tongue into the woman, pulled back with her hood, then snapped her head forward to mash her lips into her teacher with a quick exhalation. She was light headed, losing track of time, and nearly lost it when she felt the thighs on either side of her head squeeze together.

The dignified keening noise outside her rubber cave told her that she was close to bringing the woman off, and with her head held firmly she was not going to be able to open the air slits again. Furiously she worked her tongue against the teacher’s clitoris, flicking and tracing circles and gasping in the rubber sheath around it.

As the darkness became lit with stars and flares, the legs finally slumped to either side of her and the teacher relaxed in the afterglow. Her senses returning, Marie could hear moaning from Melody’s direction, the alarm clock clunking against something wooden. Marie had little to occupy herself, so she tried to imagine what Melody was going through.

The clock, obviously, would cause her to lean forward as far as possible to relieve her nipples. But doing so would put strain on the shoulders. As Marie thought, she realized that it would also probably put weight on her clitoris, which would become quite painful over time. At some point it would be worthwhile to endure sore nipples to relieve her nub, and then after a while her anus and nipples would need relief.

Marie imagined the situation as vividly as she could, trying to determine what the best way to sit would be. But all the solutions she came up with involved having her ankles free so that she could use her knees to support herself.

After a long period of musing, her short breath hissing through the rubber mask as she licked and kissed the latex-clad pussy, the absurdity of the situation hit her. Here she was, her jaw and tongue aching, her head swimming from lack of oxygen, suffering a relatively mild punishment, and she was imagining herself away to a worse fate. She shook her head within the confines of the teacher’s leg-vise, and felt the woman shudder and clamp down again.

As the air cut off, and the sparkling lights flashed before her eyes again, Marie realized that the image of herself mounted on the doghouse was not simply an idle possibility. It was a matter of time, a question of “when” rather than “if”. One of these days she’d be up there, a triangle of wood pressing against her slit and creating increasing levels of pain.

The stars cleared, the woman slumped, and Marie began gasping in short gusts of breath. Her invisible world reeled and spun. The hood grew hot with embarrassed flush as Marie realized that she was trickling between her own legs. Still her ordeal continued.

She heard sounds, squeaking, pulleys, moans. She heard footsteps on wood, footsteps on stone. Suddenly her hood was ripped off and she found herself straddling a wooden doghouse, her cuffs anchored to its roof, her ankles cuffed toward the ground and pulled taut like tent cables. Each motion was met with opposing tension as her struggles worked a giant frame about her that powered electric fields pin-prickling every inch of skin she had. She rocked slowly to even the pressure between her legs as her tongue worked in and out of her mouth to lick as much air as she was allowed from the surrounding courtyard.

Nobles milled about, looking at displays of slavery and punishment arranged in a circle. Women pulled like taffy and skewered like marshmallows. Each one stuffed, whipped, pinched, fucked, and suffocated. Marie watched them all, aroused beyond description by the cacophony of punishment.

The whip of time lashed forward, lurching the world to the crucial moment. Marie bucked and rode her wooden horse and called out a name in a language she had never heard. Before her stood a tall woman in imperially high boots, lush cape, strict corset, and fearsome mask. Marie saw that she was looking her Mistress right in the bottomless black depths of her eyes. She wanted to be swallowed up by them, knowing that to dissolve in that love would be more exquisitely painful than any punishment, and worth every scream.

Do you serve me, slave?

“Oh yes, Mistress!” Marie moaned, her voice far away and muffled.

Your devotion, your obedience, your submission… they give me strength. The further you submit, the stronger I am to you. You are almost ready to meet me, and when you do you will be prepared to lay down your life at my feet.

Marie kept tongue-lashing the thin air before her face, the mask warping before her as her Mistress’s words splashed into her like surf on dry sand.

You have a while yet before you will be ready, however. But already you summon me to punish you. You are such a good slave, little one. You were born to the role!

And now, your reward…

The towering figure before Marie reached a silver gauntlet of flamboyant claw- rings and peeled back the mask. Marie gasped, her lips puckering as a gigantic rubber pubis emerged on the woman’s head. The vertical labia majora and minora breathed and oozed juices as the clitoris throbbed like a third eye.

The grotesque black rubber pussy leaned forward and pressed itself into Marie’s face, planting a long heavy kiss that swallowed her whole. As she felt herself fading into total darkness, she understood that her Mistress would be her only source of strength. Marie knew that she was meant to give all that she had over to her Mistress and protector. This was what her whole life had been for.

The torture, the licking, the squicking, all vanished to black. Suddenly she wrinkled her nose and coughed, jolting up as a pungent smell filled her nostrils. The teacher capped the jar of smelling salts and put them back in the classroom’s first aid kit. Marie realized that she was lying on her back, hands still cuffed behind her, but that her hood was no longer on. She could feel the draft flow over her bald head, chilling her.

She scrambled to her knees, the slickness of her juices spreading between her thighs. Red-faced, she dropped her chin to her chest and waited for whatever would come next.

“You did well enough, Slave Marie. Number ten was a bit much for you, it seems, and you passed out. You’re finished five minutes early, so you will now help me with Slave Melody.”

Marie looked up, remembering that Melody was still on the doghouse. The girl was still trying to glare at Marie, but much of the fight had gone out of her. Marie saw just a hint of the glassy-eyed resignation of a slave who knows her place.

The teacher uncuffed Marie and returned her pigtailed wig. Together the teacher and slave waited for the alarm clock to ring, surprising Melody as the vibrations translated through to her sore nipples. The two women unlocked the slave’s cuffs and helped her off the device and into a seat.

“Slave Marie, you will be free to leave in a moment, but first you will return the doghouse to the storage room and bring out Memory Exercise 1 and the box marked ‘TENS’.”

Marie curtseyed, lifting her skirt to expose her dripping slit as she had seen others do, and walked over to return Melody’s torture device to storage. As she walked it in, the realization of what she was asked to do must have hit Melody.

“Nooooo… Why? Why? Aren’t I done?” the broken bully whimpered.

“My my, Slave Melody! You do have a terrible memory. It is a good thing we have half an hour left for you to work on it. Do you not remember earning extra detention for listening and memory problems?”

Marie found the boxes she had been sent for, and by the time she returned, Melody had grimly accepted her fate. Marie set the boxes on the teacher’s desk just as the exhausted Melody had been firmly strapped and locked into a desk at the front row.

The teacher pulled out a pair of metal probes from the TENS box, smeared some sort of gel over them, and inserted them into Melody through the holes in her chair. Wires went from the plugs over to a strange control box, and more wires came out connected to clamps which the teacher slipped onto Melody’s nipples. Finally, a single control wire was patched into the box and fed into the “Memory Exercise 1” system, which seemed to be a simple electronic color- and-sound memory game.

Marie remembered playing with a similar toy as a child. The device was simply a disc divided into four buttons of different colors. As each button lit up in sequence, a tone was played. When the player successfully pressed the buttons in the correct sequence, the machine would add one more tone to the sequence and play it again. Remembering long sequences of colors/tones got harder and harder, and Marie never remembered if there was any way to conclusively win the game.

Melody hung her head, waiting for the system to be set up, her one free hand sitting next to the game.

“Let me see now, Slave Melody…” The teacher consulted a chart in her gradebook. “Ah, yes. You have endured as high as level 8 it says.” With that she turned a dial on the electrical output control box to 8.

Marie saw Melody twitch visibly as the device turned on and set itself. A single red button flashed, and Melody waited two seconds before pressing it. The red button flashed, followed by a green button with a higher tone, and Melody slowly and methodically pressed red and green in sequence.

Marie wanted to leave, but she was fascinated, watching Melody’s progress. She did not have long to wait, as melody lost on the ninth entry in the sequence. As it flashed all four lights in a loud buzz, the control box also flashed, and melody shook violently in her bonds, a moan of pain grinding from her exhausted throat.

“She plays to stall,” the teacher said to Marie. “The game is set to simply trigger a loss after two seconds of not pressing anything, and it’s simply too difficult to remember long sequences when they take half a minute.”

Marie and the teacher watched Melody reach 15 notes in the sequence before getting shocked again.

“I think that her stamina is much improved since the last session.” The teacher noted. “Slave Marie, turn the electrical output to 9.”

Marie stepped forward, but caught Melody’s gaze. Melody’s eyes spat daggers at Marie, and held her rooted to the spot. Marie knew she couldn’t disobey the teacher’s orders, but she lacked the strength to resist Melody after her own ordeal between the schoolmarm’s legs.

But as Melody held her in a stare, Marie saw a silver gauntletted hand reach from behind her and turn the dial to nine. Marie’s heart stopped, the sight of her Mistress’s arm causing her breath to catch. When the hand disappeared from view, Melody’s game signaled her loss, and the spell was broken with a high-pitched scream.

Marie spun around, seeing no one behind her, and only the teacher off to her left, sitting on the old oak desk. The woman smiled arrogantly at Marie, and then pulled out a black leather object.

“Of course,” the teacher noted, handing the item to Marie, “the goal of this exercise is to improve your listening skills, Slave Melody. Slave Marie, blindfold her!”

Marie walked behind the girl and slipped the two round pads over her eyes. As she did so, Melody cursed her under her breath, promising worse fates than she had ever known. But the sight of the dial at nine and the apparition of her Mistress lurked at the corners of her mind and gave her the strength to buckle the blindfold and step back.

Melody’s scores took a nose-dive, fumbling to remember the locations of notes. She lost at three, two, and five notes before getting the rhythm back and working her way back up into the double-digits.

The teacher sashayed over to Marie and took her by the necktie-leash. She led Marie out into the hallway, fussing with her uniform and straightening her wig out.

“I just wanted to tell you that I understand that you are at a new school and things will take some getting used to. Just know that your obedience in helping me discipline Slave Melody will be noted favorably on your record. Also know that when you are given the memory exercises, we will be just as strict with you as you were with Melody.”

A smirk crossed the woman’s face. “A pity you’re not on the block, Slave Marie. I could use a tongue like yours at home. Perhaps we can come to some sort of… extra credit arrangement.” The woman caressed Marie’s cheek, slipping her thumb between the girl’s lips and massaging her tongue gently. “I know how hard it can be to keep good grades when you come late in the year, and those bad grades stay on your Permanent Record for the rest of your life.”

With that, the teacher patted Marie on the rear and strutted back into the classroom, cooing out insincere encouragement as Melody reached a 17-note sequence before throwing herself into a sobbing barking fit.

Marie took five deep breaths, and walked out into the courtyard. Kusako sat on a bench, busy highlighting selections from a Gor novel, and checking page numbers against a printed course syllabus. When she saw Marie stumbling out, she set her study materials down and ran to hug her.

“Oh Marie, you poor thing! I heard the screams. Can you sit?”

Marie was confused for a moment, but then shook her head. “Oh, I’m fine. It was just an hour of eating out the teacher in some sort of.. hood… panties… thing… I just need to rest my tongue a little.”

“Uh-oh.” Kusako frowned, “Better take care that the teacher doesn’t take too much of a liking to you. She might keep you for extra study, and that’s usually just a way for you to make more mistakes.” She looked up and saw the teacher watching the pair from the classroom window. She scowled and picked up her things.

“Come on Marie, you can come over to my place tonight. My Master is a real sweetheart, and we can play video games and just have girl talk, ya know? C’mon, it’ll be fun! If your Mistress gives permission, you could even sleep over!”

Marie smiled as much as her sore mouth would allow. “I’d like that. Do you have a phone?”

“There’s a booth over behind the toolshed. I’ll just wait here for a while–I have lots of homework to do anyway.”

Marie rounded the shed and found herself in a short alley ending in an old telephone booth. Sliding the doors closed, she lifted the receiver and tried to find the buttons or dialing mechanism.

“Number please!” a voice chirped on the other end of the line.

Marie gave Angelica’s cell phone number.

“This call requires five lashes for the first minute, and two for each additional minute. Do you accept the charges?”

Marie, confused, accepted.

“Lift or lower your skirt to expose an area between waist and knees. Signal when ready.”

Marie looked around, confused, and then pulled up her skirt, mumbling into the phone. A wheel beneath the phone began to spin, and a single leather strap attached to it swung out and smacked into the side of Marie’s thigh, wrapping around behind her. She yelped as it struck and then slid as the wheel spun, crying out another four times as the spanking device continued its assigned number of strokes.

“Thank you. Connecting…”

Marie reached Angelica with no trouble, though she was still in the office and spoke in veiled references. When at one minute the operator interrupted to extract another minute’s fee from Marie, Angelica began to stall and prolong the conversation. After five such intervals, it was agreed that Marie would stay over at Kusako’s house that night in exchange for extra weekend assignments.

After Angelica hung up, though, Marie heard the operator return. Her voice seemed somehow different, and she spoke a word that Marie could not understand. The syllables passed through her mind and left no impression, but seemed to clean her thoughts and leave her fresh and relaxed. Her world flooded white, and the receiver dropped to the end of its cord.

Marie slipped into subspace, but found it empty.

The Resistance

Marie lay on the courtyard’s hard stone floor. Dizzy and throbbing, she rolled onto her side in an attempt to sit up. The ringing in her ears faded slowly, and after a while she was able to prop herself up against one wall.

Something was missing. No, it felt more like everything was missing. The world was all wrong except for Marie, a pierced-through fetish schoolgirl in a slave collar waiting to obey. Waiting for…it was coming to her, but…

Marie squinted and tried to think, looking in vain for her Mistress or the court nobles that attended her. Where was the crowd of tormentors, the sedan chair, the bondage? A vague understanding crept around the edges of her mind, dream-logic thinking revealing that she lay next to an antique wooden telephone booth, and that the courtyard was part of a school of some sort.

“Oh Marie! Are you all right?” Kusako ran over to her and squatted down, her face showing shock and concern. Marie couldn’t make words, as though they had simply melted from her mind. The only thing she noticed were the dozens of silvery rings in Kusako’s labia.

It was a struggle, but Marie managed to tear her eyes away from Kusako’s crotch and give a somewhat convincing nod. Something was still wrong. Something to do with telephones and courtyards and slaves and masters and words and vision and sex and piercings and…

“Oh you poor dear, here, let me help you up. My Master’s just waiting for us outside. Can you walk?”

Marie could walk just fine, and she followed Kusako out to the street. She felt light, somehow, as though instead of walking forward the world was splashing over her and flowing away behind. She noticed herself spreading her legs and looked down, realizing she was getting onto a large motorcycle behind Kusako, who herself was clinging tightly to her Master’s back.

A wave of the world surged and rolled over Marie, space and time balling up and pressing through her as a firehose through a chain-link fence. She stood in a garage, held Kusako’s hand, skipped through a high-ceilinged loft. Her own perceptions and senses felt alien: distant memories or dreams or the visions of a tale told by another.

The world was a sea Marie floated in, aimless. She felt a kind of peace in a way, without obligation or direction or ego. It was a beautiful feeling to just let go of reality and drift.

The current of the world pulled her gently around the room, a slow gyre focusing around something at the center. Focus increased, attention began to awaken, and Marie slipped down the whirlpool until she was back in her own head again.

“Master, she’s looking at the chains now!” Kusako cried, summoning her master from another room.

“Great! This one should last a few minutes while we get ready. Let’s get started.” Marie did not connect the voice to a body, hearing it ring out from the glittering steel before her, the resonance of the room shaking the air around her and the sounds simply penetrating through into her dissipating experience.

Tiny girlish hands with delicate fingers worked at fastenings and peeled clothing from Marie’s body. Marie saw only chains and cuffs and padded rests, feeling them pluck fasteners and peel latex from her body. Beneath her wig, Marie felt her scalp tingle as the gentleness of the force disrobing her worked its charms. In her confusion she perceived steel cuffs on long chains snaking down her legs peeling off her stockings. Metal clips hooked her wig and lifted it off with a human rustling sound. All was nakedness and exposure to the world and sharing and peace and oneness with the metal.

There came smooth chills, registering slowly as metal against skin on a body that once felt uniquely hers. Joints moved, bringing tension Marie could only marvel at as another astonishing example of existence, a miracle of being and time and motion and flesh and steel and stone and stone and stone and stone…

…stone courtyard. Not the school’s atrium, but her courtyard. Ego and sensation drew together with a snap, and Marie felt the paving stones beneath her knees and the cool metal cuffs all over her body. She was forced to kneel by cuffs around thighs and ankles, joined by only a link or two of chain. Her big toes had tiny cuffs linked to the ones on her ankles, keeping her weight on her toes and the balls of her feet.

Marie’s shoulders were completely wrenched back, elbows held together by cuffs around her upper arms. These were held high by a chain connecting to her collar, and her lower arms were kept straight by cuffs at wrist and thumbs.

Marie blinked and realized that she was looking at a slavegirl bound exactly as she was, kneeling with knees touching her knees, thick circlets matching her own in every location.

Marie lifted her head to get a look at the girls face, and she snapped back down suddenly as a chain from her septum ring went taut. The other girl gave out a sharp scream followed by gasping as she recoiled from some pain or other. Marie never saw her face, but recognized the voice.

“Kusako?” she mumbled, her lips and tongue still warming up to moving under conscious control.

“Marie! Oh owww, Marie can you hear me?” It was definitely Kusako.

“Yes! Oh what’s happening to me! I feel… I feel my brain isn’t well! Kusako, am I… Am I dying?”

“Oh sweetie no!” Kusako cooed sympathetically, “Oh I’m so sorry to frighten you like this. It’s just that, well this is the only way we can speak to you alone.”

Marie realized that she actually wasn’t frightened at all, and that she had kind of hoped that the vast oceanic sensations of peace were a reward for a life lived in obedience. She squirmed in her chains some more, trying to exercise her elbows and shoulders, only to get another yelp from the other slave as she accidentally tightened a chain that ran from her own thumb cuffs down between her legs and into Kusako’s labial rings.

After more breathing exercises, Kusako began again, “We don’t have much time now. I need to tell you the most important thing you’ve ever heard, and I need to know that you are listening. Do you understand, Marie?”

Marie caught her breath, beginning to feel fear now. She must have paused for too long, because suddenly she saw Kusako shift, and a chain running under the girl tugged painfully on Marie’s clitoral hood ring.

“Aaah! Yes! I’m sorry, I am listening! Please, go on.”

“Marie the first thing you need to understand is that your Mistress is never to be trusted. Do you understand this?”

Marie’s nipples tugged painfully as Kusako pulled against them with the chain that ran up to her head.

“Oaaaaw! Yes! Yes! I understand! But why should I believe this?”

“Oh think about it Marie! You only see her in subspace. She sells you and your family legacy to the Agency that owns and terrorizes your girlfriend. Why do you want to submit to this woman?”

Marie tried to find an answer, but couldn’t think of one she wanted to say in front of her classmate. She thought over her life, trying to work out why it was headed in the direction it was, but nothing satisfactory resulted.

“Noooo!” Marie shouted as Kusako yanked on all three rings at once, “Stop! No! Aaaaaa!”

Marie grew furious. How dare that little slut toy with her. She brought her head up as far as it would go, squirming with her pinned arms to jerk Kusako’s own piercings and teach her her place. The two girls squirmed and screamed as the struggle escalated. Marie squirmed to relieve tension on one part of her body, retaliating with a tug on Kusako’s only to be forced to let up by another jolt of pain.

“Waaait! Dammit stop!” Kusako howled over the clanking and screaming, “Marie we don’t have time! Don’t you understand? Your Mistress doesn’t even exist!”

Marie pulled Kusako’s strings and held her with a tension just painful enough to keep her whimpering, but not sharp enough to trigger immediate retaliation.

“You’d better explain that, slave!” Marie growled, intoxicated with power over the petite creature at the end of her chains.

Kusako tried to answer, “I just… Oh Master, help. Make her let go!”

“Your Master’s not here, girl! You’re talking to me now!”

“Oh but he is here with me! He’s just not here with you–oh ow! Please no, please let go! Aaah! Oh Marie I wish I could explain this all right now; but I have something I need to give you, and quickly!”

Marie allowed a little slack for Kusako, ready to take the upper hand again at a moment’s notice. Kusako caught her breath and swallowed hard.

“Marie, you need to think carefully and answer me this one question: Is there something you own, something precious, that is a token of pure and absolute love? I mean something that represents not just submission or lust or desire, but true devotion and adoration? It should be something small, preferably. It needs to be something you can keep on your person, maybe something you could hide someplace. Think hard, Marie! I need you to tell me before our time is up!”

Marie did not need to think hard at all. Her mind was growing razor sharp, coming into micron focus. This puzzle was trivial to her, and she almost smirked as she gave Kusako the answer.

“My…” Marie’s confidence faltered, emotion saturating her existence again, “My nose ring. It’s a family heirloom, and… Oh god they were so happy…”

Kusako squealed, “Marie this is it! We need to do this now! Please, lean toward me–AAAA!” Marie gritted her teeth and hauled on Kusako’s piercings again with her head and wrists.

“Who are you, slave? Who are you to order me around? Why have you been following me, eh? How long have you been spying on me? Tell me what this is about!”

“AAAAAUGH! Marie no! We weren’t looking for you, I promise! We were tracking Melody, I swear! We are trying to uncover the Agency’s plans for her and learn their techniques. Aaah! You just appeared today, and you’re… unexpected. You’re something new. We don’t know what you mean yet, but we can give you…protection.”

Marie felt the courtyard begin to close in. She felt pressed to make a decision, thinking of Rosenstock and Angelica and the orderly and now this young lady she was chained to. Of all the people she’d encountered since losing her job, here was someone with both the means and desire to protect her. Could she waste this chance?

In a snap decision she bent forward as far as she could go, able to see Kusako’s face for the first time as she looked up without the chain at her nose going taut. Kusako leapt at the moment and bent down herself, kissing Marie deeply, a tongue piercing tracing massaging circles around Marie’s mouth.

A golden light seemed to emanate from the kiss, chasing the gloom away from the crumbling grey stone edifice that surrounded them. Shadows danced and Marie’s heart soared as a feeling of absolute epiphany traced the edges of her consciousness.

The ground shook, and hunks of terracotta began to fall from the brick structures high overhead. Kusako broke off the kiss with a wide lick up Marie’s upper lip, catching the nose ring on her tongue piercing and filling it with the golden light. The ring glowed hot, and the moment Kusako broke contact, it exploded with blinding light.

Marie woke feeling torn to ribbons. She was exhausted and there was a dull ache in her nipples and clitoral hood. Sighing, she tried to roll over, but found her back pressed against a set of steel bars. Rolling the other way, the body of a young woman blocked her way. Feeling around a bit, Marie concluded that she was locked into a kennel cage with Kusako.

Her cellmate gave an adorable little moan as she discovered that Marie was awake again, quietly asking “Mmmm, how do you feel?”

“Fine, I think.” Marie whispered into the darkness, “I’m just sore and exhausted now. I wish I could–”

Kusako cut her off with a word, one that broke down immediately into less than meaning, less even than sound. It washed over Marie and suddenly soreness was arousal, exhaustion was desire. She tried to ask Kusako what was happening, but only sighs came out.

“Shhhhh,” Kusako reassured her, “Hush now. Just enjoy this. You’ve earned it!” and with a contortionist’s skill she turned around inside the tiny cage and extended her pierced tongue between Marie’s legs. Marie marveled at her delicate touch and uncanny skill, and let herself be carried off into the sleep of the well-fucked.

Over the Barrel

Marie was rather proud of how easily she’d peeled the fruit. She managed to snap the stem of the banana with a minimum of effort, and pulled down a stripe of yellow rind with a single fluid twisting gesture. The only trouble was that she had underestimated how difficult it would be to get the sweet insides to her lips.

Kusako laughed from the other side of the table, kneeling in an identical steel scold’s fiddle to Marie’s. The devices were simple steel yokes that hinged shut around the throat, fitting neatly to a slave’s collar. As the two ends met, the front arms closed with two smaller holes around the wearer’s wrists, keeping the hands up at chin level, facing palm to palm one in front of the other.

Marie now realized that while her hands could perform a number of complicated tasks, they were too far from her lips to be much use for eating. She blushed a little and rested her elbows against her ribs in defeat.

“So, um… What am I supposed to do then?” She whispered, although Kusako’s Master was obviously still in the shower. He’d released the girls from the cage that morning, locked them in the fiddles and then set out the fruit and milk before running upstairs to the bathroom.

Kusako batted her eyelashes at Marie and began to recite, “In Hell, everyone is chained to benches a meter away from a lush banquet table, and are given nothing but meter-long chopsticks to eat with. The people there are in a state of perpetual starvation and are teased by the bounty before them. In Heaven, it is exactly the same chains and chopsticks, but the people are happy and well-fed. Do you know why?”

Marie vaguely remembered this one from a book of puzzles she’d had as a little girl, but she took too long thinking of the solution. Kusako slinked over beside her and wrapped her lips around the peeled banana, tipping her head back and swallowing it whole in a single astonishing gulp.

“In Heaven,” she purred into Marie’s ear, “the people feed each other.”

When Kusako’s Master came down, wet hair slicked back and wearing a terrycloth robe, he found Marie covered with sticky fruit and laughing into a large plum that Kusako had managed to shove between her teeth. Kusako was sitting on the poor girl and tickling her mercilessly, suddenly snapping to attention and kneeling in a submissive bow when she saw Him approach.

“Get her mopped down and over the barrel, pet. She’s got work today, and I’m not letting her out of here without knowing her better.” He ordered, reaching down and removing the padlock from the pin that held her fiddle shut. The girl touched her forehead to His feet before scrambling to clean Marie off.

Satisfied that Marie was presentable and had actually swallowed enough food to satisfy her hunger, Kusako dragged her to a set of padded stocks and pushed her to her knees before them. A secondary clasp was removed from Marie’s yoke, and it snapped out to hold her hands up at either side of her shoulders. Finally Kusako pushed Marie down so she bent over the padded supports and brought down top bars and straps.

Marie squirmed, looking into Kusako’s eyes as she waited for the Master of the house to return.

“Is he going to punish me for something?” Marie whispered, realizing as she said it that she was kind of looking forward to that.

“I doubt it,” Kusako murmured, “he most likely just wants to fuck you.”

Marie remembered the last time she had had sex with a man, back at the Halloween party. She remembered the punishing pain that seemed to come from her piercings when she was about to orgasm, and nervously described it to Kusako.

“Don’t worry. I’ll mention it to him.” was all she got in reply.

Eventually Kusako was called out of the room, and Marie had nothing to do but test her bonds, which she did as a matter of course. The bench permitted very little squirming, but the whole assembly seemed to swing forward and backward as she pushed against the stocks that were locked around her ankles. She sighed and started swinging, counting the sways until the numbers lost their meaning and her eyes went glassy.

The creaking of the swaying mechanism grew sharper and sharper in her hearing, the clang-clang-clang of a hammer against hot metal on an anvil somewhere behind her. Marie squinted up against the sunlight, across acres of green to a castle ruin high atop a hill. In the unfathomable logic of dreaming, Marie saw or knew that the structure was being repaired by hundreds of slaves.

Marie craned her neck, trying to understand the scene of devastation around her. Foundations of buildings bordered smoking piles of ash, and the village looked to have been sacked by an invading army. Only the blacksmith’s stood intact, perhaps because it was made of brick and stone to house the furnace.

Marie rocked back, rolling the giant ale keg she was chained to until her bare feet touched the dust. The morning sun blasted at her eyes, but in silhouette she saw Kusako once more. The girl was buckling a complicated set of straps about her body, and when she stepped away from the sun Marie continued to be dazzled by its reflection off the polished steel elements of Kusako’s harness device.

The world swam in ripples of light, and Kusako floated toward Marie on a sunbeam. Marie felt a hand on her rear, and a thumb gently massaged a greasy substance into her anus. She tensed at the sudden attention, but then relaxed as Kusako cooed into her ear and stroked her hair.

“Now let’s see if you learned anything in class.” Kusako murmured. The barrel rolled forward, and Marie found herself staring at a polished steel dildo that disappeared into the collection of straps and rings at the girl’s crotch. Without hesitation she took the tip of the phallus into her mouth and began bobbing her head, working her way slowly toward throating it.

As she was beginning to feel her gag reflex conquered, the hands on her ass tightened and she felt a pressure against her sphincter. Missing a beat from surprise, she struggled to relax both ends of her digestive system and allow him in.

She rolled on her barrel, back and forth, taking steel in the mouth and man in the rear. As the rhythm grew her heart soared. Being meat bound to a barrel, controlled with no pressure to make terrifying decisions, holes filled with sex and pleasure: it felt like home. What would have felt degrading and terrifying years ago now felt like enlightenment. All desire washed away, all needs fulfilled by the double-pumping in face and ass of a well-bound slavegirl.

Marie heard whimpering, and realized that it came from Kusako. From the tension she felt on the steel cock in her throat, Marie guessed the other end must be inside Kusako somehow.

Her reflection over the nature of the strap-on (or strap-in, if it truly was as she suspected) was interrupted when the metal began to pulse against her tongue, as if some ancient heart pumped quicksilver. Kusako was a vision of glimmering chrome, the ideal metal woman fitted with an idealized fixture of male anatomy. She sparked in the sunlight like a robot goddess, and Marie worshipped her with the only means of communion she had available.

But as her vision of Kusako gelled into this image, the barrel rocked backward and stayed that way as the man inside her rear began to pump furiously. She felt him press in deep and begin to fill her, slapping the backs of her thighs and causing her to tense around him. Once she had milked him dry, he grunted and withdrew, and she rolled forward onto the metal phallus.

This, too, seemed ready to burst. She sucked and teased with her tongue, swallowing it down again, and was soon rewarded with a sudden jet of fluid into her throat. She sensed the trail of goo as it withdrew, and noticed a tangy taste and a tingle like electricity.

She smacked her lips, and the courtyard simply vanished from existence. One moment she was squinting against the sunlight reflecting off of the android goddess before her, and the next she was back in the swinging stocks. She heard Kusako’s Master cleaning up behind her, and Kusako was busy removing the double-ended pump dildo from her pussy.

“What was that stuff?” Marie asked, licking tingling droplets of it off her chin.

“Oh, just a little parting gift from Master.” Kusako smiled, “It will clear your head for 24 hours, so you can think things through properly. You’ll need to pretend that nothing has changed, or people will suspect, but I think you’re advanced enough that you can tell them whatever they want to hear.”

Marie considered this as Kusako finished tidying up and setting her free. It was true that she did feel a remarkable focus and concentration, as if she had access to her full senses for the first time in years. She showered and put her school uniform back on, reflecting almost constantly on her situation.

At the door, Kusako’s Master grabbed Marie roughly by the upper arm and drew her into a passionate kiss. Marie wasn’t expecting it, but she observed it as if from the outside.

This is a kiss from a man who has power over me. He has shown me great kindness. I could fall in love with him. My life would let me enjoy being his slave beside Kusako. I am already beginning to fall in love with her.

Her stream of thoughts and analysis did not break stride when he broke off the kiss as suddenly as he started it. He landed a fierce slap across Marie’s cheek, causing her to twist a quarter turn in reaction to the blow.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” he huffed in a brusque but otherwise unemotional tone, and then spun on his heel and walked back into the house.

Within the context of our relationship, he was punishing me to teach me a lesson. The analytical voice in Marie’s head kept running a mile a minute. He wants me to know that it is critical that I act the part I am meant to play, and not reveal my current state.

Kusako took Marie by the hand, and brought it up to her own cheek. She then reached to Marie’s waist and drew her close, as if to dance. Instead, Kusako pressed her mouth to Marie’s with a kiss of her own, which Marie returned with apparent passion.

“I’m afraid this is good bye, Marie.” Were those tears in the girl’s eyes? “Master says you’re too hot to touch, and we have to move on or risk everything. I loved sharing my chains with you, and wish we could be slavemates forever, but Master has his work and I obey.”

Marie stared into Kusako’s eyes, willing her own to reflect the love and sadness that she knew she felt without actually feeling it. Kusako brushed Marie’s lips with her own in one last gentle moment, then turned and walked back into the house.

I miss Kusako right now. Marie’s mind noted. I am in love with her. This is heartbreaking.

Marie immediately turned away from the house and began walking toward a waiting cab, dutifully moving on to her chores for the day.

Off-site Assignments

Marie’s cab pulled up outside a large well-appointed mansion in the Oakland hills, and the driver reached up to the taximeter to confirm the reading.

“That’ll be $25.70, please.”

I know that voice. He has driven me before. I can see patterns in the events that surround me if only I pay attention. I will need to play innocent, though. This is an excellent point to practice.

Marie fumbled with the tiny pockets on the breasts of her glossy white shirt, massaging her nipples in a show of trying to find some cab fare.

“Oh dear, I think I need some help here!” she squeaked, willing herself to blush red.

The cab driver gave a funny sort of smile, but stepped out of the driver’s seat and got into the rear compartment with her.

“Now what seems to be the problem?”

“Well I seem to have left my wallet at home, you see, and I don’t think I have any money with me! Please, is there some…” Marie began massaging the cabby’s chest now, slipping a finger through the gaps between buttons, “…other way I can repay you?”

The cab driver said nothing, an incomprehensible scowl on his face. He abruptly grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from his chest roughly.

Either he is offended that I came on to him, or he wants to play rough. Either way I must submit to him in order to leave this cab.

“Oh dear. I suppose I have been a bad girl now, haven’t I?” Marie lowered her head demurely and looked up at him as if hurt that he wasn’t playing along. She didn’t have to hold this expression for long, though, because in a flash he had pulled her over his knee and tugged her skirt up to expose her rump.

“One!” he bellowed as his palm crashed into her upper thigh. Two laneded on the right cheek, and three came square in the middle sending a shock that made her clitoral ring bounce. She analyzed the location of each stroke, felt the spread, and noted that he was quite experienced at giving spankings.

At “Twenty-five!” he threw Marie back so that she knelt on the floor of the car. Her ass burned, and he seemed to be somewhat short of breath, but Marie saw an opportunity to part on better terms.

“Oh thank you, sir.” she moaned in a husky whisper, “Now let’s see what I can do for the remainder.”

She leaned forward and undid the man’s trousers before he could object, teasing the tip of his penis with her tongue and then drawing it into her mouth as quickly as possible. He gave a wordless shout in surprise, but Marie massaged his balls gently and used every ounce of analytical power to gauge the reaction of his flesh and bring him to orgasm quickly.

She had learned her lessons well now, and swallowed the fluid neatly. Without saying a word she opened the cab door and stepped out, tugging her skirt down as she walked toward the large front door.

“Hey lady!” the cabby shouted over his car. Marie stopped and turned around to look at his slightly confused expression.

He seemed to be lost for words, but eventually tried to explain himself.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, miss.” he was quieter now, “That’s not really who I am.”

Does he want a psychotherapy session? He is confused, not ashamed. He enjoyed himself, but isn’t sure why yet.

Marie batted her eyelashes and gave a coy smile, as if stifling a giggle. The gesture was demure and submissive while still managing to be thoroughly condescending.

“No, I mean…” he shook his head in astonishment, “I’m gay!”

Marie changed her smirk to a warm sunbeam of a smile and blew him a kiss, laughing as though they had just shared a wonderful inside joke. He chuckled, still shaking his head as he climbed back in his cab and drove off.

A woman with heavily brylcreem’d hair answered the door in a forest green latex butler’s uniform. Golden scrollwork decorated the dark glossy suit, and stiff tabbed collar points poked out over a heavy chrome slave’s collar.

“Ah, you must be Slave Marie. Give this to the cab driver and then come around to the servants’ entrance.” The butler stuffed a $20 and a $10 bill into Marie’s hands and shut the door.

Marie watched the cab drive away, shrugged, and tucked the bills into the pockets at her nipples. The side door was answered by a bean pole of a vamp in a black latex hobble skirt with a white rubber apron. The woman bent at the waist until her black bob dangled forward from her temples and peered at Marie over her half-moon spectacles. Satisfied, she gave a gruff hiss and hooked a black rubber finger through the ring in Marie’s collar, dragging her inside.

Marie appeared stunned as she was dragged to one wall and attached to it by a chain clipped to her collar. She kept up appearances as a confused and embarrassed novice, but her mind kept processing everything without distraction: I’m one of three girls here, and there is one chain empty. This is some kind of solarium or rear porch area for domestic servants to do their cleaning in, but the rack of clothes contains nothing but rubber maid uniforms. We’re likely to all be fitted with them and required to clean the house.

She grabbed the chain in mock surprise, as if by some protective instinct, but made no effort to detach herself from the wall.

XXX: she’s wearing a black wig! Blonde, brunette, and I’m the redhead. Someone likes to keep things in sets, even with uniforms. The uniforms look much better made than the one I have at home.

The head maid dressed the other two girls while Marie watched. Everything was done in complete silence save for the squeaking of rubber and clanking of chains, so Marie decided to try breaking the ice in the hopes of learning something.

“I’m, uh… I’m here to work, I think? My name is Marie, and this is my first assignment, so…” She stopped short as the vamp swept around and glared pure venom at her.

This will not end well. The other two have begun to relax and exchange glances, as if in relief. It is likely that I have drawn unwanted attention away from them, and will suffer the brunt of this woman’s wrath.

The vamp tore open Marie’s shirt and peeled off the uniform in a few quick tugs. She hauled Marie’s wrists up over her head and the blonde maid climbed a stepstool, as if on cue, and fastened her into a pair of heavy steel cuffs that hung from the ceiling. Left to dangle, the women prepared her uniform somewhat differently from the previous two.

First a gathered white rubber blouse was brought up her body to just under her breasts, nipples resting on a bed of latex ruffles and rings dangling over the side. Next a heavy black rubber corset with wide shoulder straps was wrapped around her and steel buckles and hinged cinching levers clamped shut.

This is a tighter constriction than I have ever endured before. It is going to be rather painful for a few minutes, but I should be all right if I don’t exert myself too much.

The bouncy white rubber petticoats and skirt were similar to the ones the other two maids wore, but this was clearly higher in the rear and completely divided at the front to expose her crotch. Next came white thigh-high rubber stockings ringed with black latex ribbons, ending in pre-formed bows. At that she was left to hang for a bit while the two maids left to collect something for their mistress.

This outfit is certainly more humiliating than theirs, but the reaction they gave suggested it would be far worse. I can already feel myself getting used to the shallow breathing, even held up on tiptoe like this.

The women returned with two long boxes, and set aside the smaller one to open the larger. Each maid pulled out a gleaming patent leather ballet boot, and began to straighten the laces. Marie noted in her head that she had never worn shoes this strict before, and tried to recall how Angelica had walked when she was forced to wear them.

Once the boots were laced on and locked about the tops of her calves with shiny steel cuffs linked by a short chain, she tried to find her balance and stand without leaning on her wrist chain.

It appears that ballet boots are like riding a bicycle: you never really forget.

The brunette freed Marie’s wrists and the chain from her collar, and made a circular motion with one downward-pointing finger, indicating that Marie should try to walk around the room. Marie did so, and found her stride in only a few wobbly steps.

Thankfully these are high stiff boots, laced tight. The ballet shoes without ankle support are always so much more painful and difficult to walk in.

Marie strutted across the room back to where she had been dressed, her clit ring bouncing as her hips tossed the skirts up on one side and then the other.

But I haven’t ever worn either type of ballet shoe before today, so how do I know this? I should be able to remember how I learned something, surely.

Marie was so distracted by the search for memories of how she learned to walk in the cruel footwear that she didn’t notice the two maids coming up behind her until they had pinned her elbows together behind her back. Marie squealed in exactly the right sort of surprise she thought would be expected of her, and craned her neck around to try and see what they were doing.

The vamp opened the smaller of the two boxes that her charges had brought, and

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