Author's Note: When a young woman buys a wooden trunk from a charity shop her life will never be the same again and events will take her to the edge of sanity. The story begins slowly but please persevere. The setting is in the same "universe" as my story "The Model Worker" but this is a standalone piece and can be read independently.
I hope you get as much pleasure from reading it as I did writing it. As ever any constructive criticism is happily received. This is a work of pure fantasy and fiction and any similarities to real people or places is purely coincidental.
The damned train drivers were on strike again. Another interminable dispute over pay and conditions. For the third time in a month their industrial action had forced me to seek alternative transport. The buses were a lot slower than the train and the route stopped a frustratingly long distance away from my flat. Fortunately it was a pleasant enough early-spring evening for the remaining walk.
It was Friday evening and the streets were already bustling with folks briskly making their way home. The bars were filling and I was jealous not to be among their throng, toasting the arrival of the weekend. The girls from the office had invited me out for the traditional after-work Friday drinkies, but I begrudgingly declined having already made arrangements for the following evening.
The walk home from the bus stop took me through a small shopping area in a leafy outer suburb of Birmingham. It was a pretty area and one could be forgiven for not realising they were so close to one of England's largest cities.
While passing the shops my attention was grabbed by a bright flash of light off to the side. Backing up a couple of steps the glint caught my eye again, bright and piercing. It came from the direction of a charity shop and, peering through the window, I saw that the flash was caused by the low golden evening sun reflecting off a mirror. Intrigued, and with time on my hands, I decided to take a closer look.
The mirror was something of an unexpected treasure. The glass was oval in shape and around 2 feet high. The edge of the glass was decorated with intricate silver filigree sculpted into ivy-like fronds. The glass had seen better days and was marred by some tarnishing, it's silver backing had disintegrated a little in places, creating dead areas which no longer reflected. It was at once beautiful, yet impractical.
However, what really caught my attention was the large wooden trunk upon which the mirror rested. A beautifully rustic construction, reminiscent of the natural driftwood one might find washed up on a tropical beach, the surface rutted into intricate organic patterns as if the ocean had carved a millennia of history into it. A substantial black iron catch kept the lid securely shut.
Having moved the surprisingly heavy mirror from atop the chest I struggled to open the catch but it would not budge.
"We haven't been able to open it either" said a young man whom had silently appeared.
"Such a shame, I love it."
The assistant explained a little about how the trunk and mirror had been donated to the shop following a house clearance. The owner had become ill, suffering a breakdown of some sort. A very sad tale, she had been ultimately admitted to a sanatorium and her possessions donated to charity at the behest of her family.
Despite the melancholy history, I purchased the beautiful trunk for an embarrassingly cheap price, and delivery was arranged for the following day. I resisted the assistant's best efforts to sell me the matching mirror, deciding it was too damaged to economically restore.
Twenty minutes later I was opening the front door of my two bedroom flat. Jacket and and purse were quickly discarded onto the couch in the living room, and my aching feet were freed from their 3 inch torture with a motion a Premiership striker would be proud of. After a cursory scan of my master bedroom I decided on the trunk's new location at the foot of my bed. It's new purpose in life to store towels and bedding.
But for now, it had been a long hard week and my feet were killing me ... it was definitely wine o'clock.
My work required me to work long hours during the week and so weekends were where I usually caught up on chores around the flat. I blitzed the housework and restocked the kitchen with a delivery from the local supermarket. Not owning a car myself, I usually took the admittedly lazy option of ordering on-line. The handsome young delivery chap was very pleasant on the eye and I couldn't help but check out his tight ass as he effortlessly manhandled the grocery palettes into the small kitchen.
"There we go Miss, all present and correct" he stated with a warm smile, handing me the manifest. He was tipped well for his troubles.
At around 11am the new trunk was delivered. It looked magnificent at the foot of my bed. However repeated attempts to free the catch still proved frustratingly futile.
My night out with friends was fast approaching, and so the liberation of the trunk would have to wait for another time. The rest of the afternoon was spent pampering myself in readiness for the evening's festivities. A long soak in the bath always worked wonders - a good wallow in steaming hot water, buried under a mountain of bubbles; a good book in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. Pure Heaven.
The evening would start with a meal and then onto a nightclub till the early hours. Maybe, just maybe I would also meet Mr Right, or at least Mr Hung Like a Donkey. My love life was pretty disappointing. At twenty two years old, I hadn't been in a meaningful long term relationship with a guy for some time, as my Mother was only too quick to point out.
I dated regularly but had never found the spark to pursue a more serious relationship. Neither promiscuous nor easy, a young woman nevertheless has needs, and consequently my love life read like a list of casual flings and unsatisfying sexual partners.
Something had to change in my life. The rut was getting deeper and I feared that eventually it would be too deep to escape. But it wasn't that easy .. I needed to understand myself before I could find someone to complete me.
Before heading out, I had one last check in front of the full length mirror inside the wardrobe door. My trusty little black dress clung to my shapely toned body flatteringly, hugging hips and ass snugly. Regular visits to the gym helped keep my body in good shape, and at times like this the hard work really paid off. My long blonde hair cascaded in styled ringlets almost down to my breasts. The cut of the dress somehow managed to squeeze a little extra cleavage out of my ample bosom.
The dress was short, but not in a slutty way, and my freshly waxed and oiled legs shimmered all the way down to a pair of black patent leather pumps. The heel choice was sensible. With hours of walking and dancing ahead I did not want to end up a cripple. If .. no, dammit, WHEN Mr Right turned up I wanted him to sweep me off my feet, not push me home in a wheelchair.
A car horn announced the arrival of the taxi. With a final mist of J'Adore it was time to go.
We half stumbled, half fell though the door into my flat, giggling like naughty teenagers.
"So, how about that coffee?" I asked him, drunkenly weaving to the kitchen.
"Sure. Coffee, sounds great" he replied, closing the door and setting the locks.
With the kettle coming to the boil I called out "It'll be a couple of minutes, grab a seat!"
Two hands squeezed my ass cheeks making me jump. He groped roughly, the way drunk guys do when they mistake passion for heavy-handedness.
"OK" he slurred "I choose this seat".
Surprise turned to pleasure as his left hand reached round to grab my breast while his right hand began raising the hem of my dress.
"Actually, I'm not thirsty anymore" he breathed in my ear, the smell of Tequila was strong and acrid. His fingers touched my puss, and I melted.
I sensed immediately how the night was going to end. There would be no connection, no meeting of souls, he was after just one thing. And despite myself I would be complicit.
The kettle clicked and ceased it's fury. He lifted me in his arms and carried me over the threshold of my bedroom and half dropped me onto the bed as he stumbled and grunted, hitting his shin on the new trunk. He reached under my dress and removed my sopping wet panties. I was in the moment, horny as hell, and needing release.
Grinning and perspiring he tossed my panties over his shoulder. They landed on the lid my new trunk like a splat of white paint. After unceremoniously shuffling me up the bed, he entered my pussy without even removing his trousers ... oh the romance.
After a couple of minutes of clumsy thrusting he twitched, grunted, and collapsed on me, clearly his part in proceedings was complete.
I stared at my trunk over his shoulder, feeling sadness that a thing of beauty had been sullied by my soiled underwear. I felt a familiar emptiness and that once again my wings had been clipped and I had been left frustrated and forsaken.
Annoyingly loud bird song heralded a new dawn.
My date had already ridden off into the sunset; his farewell gift an African drum beating relentlessly in my head. I took a couple of Aspirin and a long hot shower, eager to wash away the stain of the previous night.
I scooped up my knickers from where they draped over the trunk's latch and somehow they caught under the iron hasp, and to my astonishment the latch lifted open! The lock had been so immovable the previous day, and yet opened so easily now. A further surprise was that my panties were clean and dry, not a sign of my juices to be found. How could that be? They had been so wet when Casanova had removed them. I was too hungover to ponder it further, the drums in my head were seriously hindering my ability to think straight.
The lid was heavy yet opened smoothly as if the hinges had been freshly oiled. It was spotless inside, no dust, no dirt, no cobwebs. Nothing to suggest the trunk had been unused for any length of time.
The grain of the wooden lid was fascinating and I dreamily searched for shapes within, like one does with clouds. I found a shape which seemed familiar. An animal? No, not an animal. A bird? I smiled, tracing the rutted grain with my fingertips. Now it was a bird with large outspread wings, head pointing vertically as if reaching for the sky. Beneath the bird was a knot in the wood. The way the wood contoured and flowed around the knot gave the impression of flames growing from it .. like it was on fire.
I absently whispered to myself, "A bird rising from a fire .. a Phoenix!"
Recalling the previous night, and my post coital lament, it struck me as ironic that I should find the suggestion of a Phoenix in the grain. A beautiful creature reborn out of lifeless ashes. I smiled and wondered what Freud would make of that little epiphany.
My phone chimed the arrival of a message. I tossed my panties into the trunk and closed it with a solid thud.
Once dressed I headed over to Mother's for Sunday dinner. Last night would definitely not be a topic of conversation!
That night I had an exceptionally vivid and intense sexual dream.
I was in my bedroom in my flat but, oddly, I was looking down from high up in a corner of the room. I saw myself, standing erect at the foot of my bed, hands crossed behind my back. It was a peculiar feeling to watch oneself from afar as if observing events unfold for a character in a story, yet the character was me.
She, well I, was wearing hold up stockings made out of a wonderfully shiny black material which I assumed to be rubber. Covering her pussy were some black panties in the same material. She was also wearing long black rubber opera gloves. Her breasts were uncovered, nipples erect.
She looked amazing. I was fascinated by the way the material caught and reflected the flickering light from the many candles in the room. The jet black colour of the rubber against her - against my - milky skin was perfection. I wondered if I would possibly look that good in real life.
A man entered the room. It was Casanova from the other night. I had hoped to forget about him, yet he had found his way back into my dreams! He approached her, and I winced as he grabbed her throat with one of his large hands and kissed her deeply. She responded in kind, but kept her hands behind her back.
Instantly I was aware of pressure around my own neck. Startled, I felt my neck with my hands but there was nothing there; yet I could feel something rough and warm gripping my throat. The dream was feeling bizarrely real.
Watching the scene unfold I began to feel a little excited. I don't know why, maybe it was the thrill of something new, an element of danger perhaps? But the scene was surely affecting me.
He demanded she get on the bed, which she duly did without question, crawling up it on all fours, ass wriggling teasingly before laying on her back.
It was starting to look a little like deja vu from our previous encounter .. why would I want to put myself through it again, and even watch it all in cinematic glory. At least it would be over quickly I sarcastically thought.
He climbed on top of her and sat on her hips. I felt the same pressure on my own hips. He tied each of her wrists with some rope that was already anchored to the posts at the head of the bed. And sure enough I felt a tightening around my own wrists too. Still there was nothing physically touching me to cause such a sensation. I was feeling what I was seeing.
This was certainly an interesting and welcome departure from the expected proceedings.
Shuffling backwards down the bed he then tied her ankles with ropes which were attached to the posts at the foot of the bed.
I watched transfixed as he took one of the thick bed pillows and eased it under her buttocks, raising the hips from the black rubber sheets. I hadn't noticed the sheets before, they looked beautiful.
He produced a flick knife from his back pocket. I instinctively shouted a warning from my vantage point.
Neither of them reacted nor gave any sign that my outburst had been heard. I was clearly just a silent spectator in this dream.
He sliced the two straps of her panties and removed them with a sharp tug, exposing her pussy. I felt a cool air sensation on my own puss and shivered. He scrunched the rubber panties into a ball and put them in her accommodating mouth. Touching her lips as if to say "Shhh" he removed his trousers and boxers. A strange taste had also formed in my mouth, I assumed it to be the taste of rubber. It was not particularly pleasant and I hoped the panties would be removed again soon!
Although he appeared to be the same guy from last night in most respects, he was certainly a more exaggerated form. His body was more muscular. His cock was also exaggerated; large, thick and long. I cowered at the thought of her, of me, having to take it all inside, but I watched on helplessly. I didn't have any control over the dream; and perversely I wanted to see this through to the end, whatever that might be.
He got on the bed again and positioned himself between her stretched thighs. He put the head of his cock to her pussy and astonishingly I also felt pressure at my own entrance. I gasped, afraid I would have to endure what she was about to endure.
He slowly pushed forward, deeper and deeper and I felt my pussy stretch and fill as an echo of what I was watching. Panicking, I clasped my hand over my pussy in a futile effort to prevent it's progress. There was nothing physically entering me, yet I felt every swollen inch; every engorged vein of that phantom cock.
When he was finally in her up to the hilt I felt like I would rip open. Clearly sharing my own anguish, I saw her eyes widen, glassy, pupils fully dilated, groaning in discomfort at her stretched pussy. It looked grotesque with that huge thing inside her.
My pussy was tingling with other sensations as he started sliding in and out. Slowly and carefully at first, but building in speed and vigour as he proceeded to press her hips deeply into the pillow. He would withdraw almost all the way, and then thrust back in up to the hilt, pelvis banging pelvis with considerable force.
I felt a strong squeeze on my hips as I saw him take her in his vice like grip. His fingers dug into her soft flesh as he pulled her harder onto his thrusts.
He was becoming rougher, pounding her hard and fast. His fingernails pressed deep into her flesh. It was painful, yet I did not mind the pain, the euphoria I was feeling numbed the worst of it. Despite how brutal it looked, the sensation of being manhandled and used so forcefully was perversely exciting. My arousal was building to what I knew would be a huge release.
Even for a dream, events were becoming too intense for me. Panting now, a wave of excitement was quickly building deep within me.
She and I both suddenly howled out loud, like two pack wolves, as I felt my pussy convulse when a powerful orgasm took me. Lost in the moment, I wanted to grab the guy's ass and pull him deep into me so that we could ride the wave together, but alas I could not interact. I saw the same frustration on her face, her bound limbs preventing her from taking any form of control of proceedings.
The guy pulled out of her and got off the bed.
My pussy suddenly felt empty and I could feel something hot and wet on my inner thigh. I wiped at it with my hand but my fingers remained dry. My thighs were dry. However, the woman on the bed had a trail of cum slowly dribbling from her swollen, reddened pussy lips.
Remaining silent he got dressed again, left the room and closed the door with a click, leaving her still trussed to the bed and breathing heavily.
I watched her awhile. Watched myself bound on the bed until the candles burned to the end of their wicks. And as they extinguished one by one, the dream darkened and faded.
At the point of blackness I woke up with a start. My body was covered in a film of perspiration and there was a large wet patch under my pussy - clearly the dream had elicited a very physical reaction from me in the real world.
The alarm clock showed 5.30am.
My pussy felt a little sore and I found some tiny bruises on my hips. What the hell?? I assumed that I must have done it to myself somehow while dreaming.
I would have to get up to go to work in a couple of hours so I took the opportunity to grab my laptop and a coffee and Google some of the things that I'd seen and experienced in the dream. "Tied to the bed" .. "Gagged" .. "Rubber" .. "Fetish". There was a never-ending resource of sites, images and videos for me to explore. I had never looked at that sort of stuff before, but found it fascinating, thought provoking and arousing.
The dream had definitely sparked my interest in fetish and bondage gear, but I was amazed at how much that stuff cost. I imagined myself dressing up in the items on the websites, and using the bondage equipment. The deeper I looked, the more intrigued I became.
The alarm clock chimed. Time to get ready for work. Reluctantly I closed the laptop having saved many bookmarks for later "research". I had many other search terms in my head I wanted to explore too, but that would have to wait for another time.
The Monday commute was always the worst of the week. Grumpy people were everywhere, Monday's Jekyll to Friday's Hyde.
I struggled all morning to concentrate. My job as a paralegal in a law firm was demanding, but I could simply not focus. There was a pile of paperwork on my desk but I kept daydreaming about the events of the weekend.
At lunchtime I made excuses to stay behind in the office while the girls went out to grab some food from Pret. I wanted to do some more personal research. Company policy was to not limit access to the internet because we needed it to perform research for the cases we handled. Often our research required us to visit certain websites which might ordinarily be blocked. The research I had in mind would definitely test the most lenient of policies.
Looking at the fetish gear on the internet was all well and good, but I wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it against my skin. A search turned up a fetish shop in the city called "Surrender". There was very little information available, most of the site's pages were protected behind a membership system. I found a phone number and an address which I made a note of on my mobile.
The countdown to 5pm dragged for an eternity. My plan was to detour and visit Surrender on my way home. I had butterflies just thinking about going there.
I hurried to the address, avoiding eye contact with everyone in case I would be recognised. No one else could know about my new interests ... I would be a pariah, it would destroy my very conservative, respectable career. This was a dangerous move, potentially professionally suicidal, yet the desire in me drove me forward. Fortunately the shop was down an alleyway, away from the main pedestrian thoroughfares.
The shop windows were a smoky colour which effectively hid the belly of the store from casual view. The door was locked. I pressed a call button next to a card access unit.
Nothing happened for some time until an electrical buzz announced the opening of the door and a beautiful young woman appeared. I was struck by her outfit; black rubber leggings and a white rubber blouse, gaping just enough to expose her considerable cleavage. She was tall, due in part to her high heels. My charcoal pencil dress suit felt very drab next to this woman's stunningly shiny attire.
"Hello honey, can I help you?"
"Hi. May I come in and look around?" I stuttered, trying to control the nervous excitement in my voice.
"Aww, I'm sorry but I am just closing up"
Seriously doubting I would have the nerve to come to the shop again, and that it may well be the only chance I would have to scratch my very distracting itch, I tried to argue my cause.
"Please .. just 5 minutes? I won't be buying, I just need to look inside"
Acutely aware I had been stood at the doorstep of a fetish shop for more time than felt comfortable I skittishly scanned the alley for the arrival of any witnesses to my presence.
"It's hard to explain, I just need to look."
"Sorry, but I really can't let you in today. This is a private shop and admittance is via membership or invitation only."
My pathetic demeanour must have bought me some sympathy and she softened a little. She reached behind the door and handed me a glossy brochure.
"Here. Take this, perhaps it will suffice for now."
The brochure seemed to be a catalogue of sorts and I quickly hid it away from view in my bag.
"Thank you" I blushed
"It's just a sample of what we can provide for members"
I was grateful for the brochure, but disappointment must have been clear from my expression.
"And take this card .. consider it an invite to visit us again" she added with a warm smile. She disappeared back into the shop and the door latched.
My feelings were mixed. My plan had been dashed, but fate had thrown me a golden ticket in the form of a business card.
I quickly headed to the train station, eager to get home.
Having poured myself a large glass of Prosecco I settled down to browse the catalogue. I thumbed through pages and pages of beautiful pictures of shiny rubber clothing, bondage items and sex toys. The photography was excellent, the pictures were detailed and evocative. I made a mental list of the most intriguing items and those that turned me on. It was a surprisingly long list.
Once my glass was drained I headed for bed making sure my shower was colder than normal in an effort to calm my heightened ardour.
The catalogue had to be kept somewhere safe in case people turned up unannounced. I put it in my new trunk, closed the latch and climbed under the duvet.
My mind dwelled on the catalogue. Pictures were ok, but they only added further to my frustration, I wanted to touch the items. I didn't understand why I needed to touch so badly, I just knew that I would not be able to rest until I had. I vowed to return to the shop again as soon as I could work up the courage.
An eerie glow in the bedroom roused me from my slumber. The intensity grew and faded rhythmically, as if a dimmer switch was being repeatedly turned up and down.
I peered through the curtains to see if it was being caused by a vehicle outside. The street was empty, 3.20am shone on the digital alarm clock.
"What the hell" I slurred, only half awake.
Once compos mentis, the source of the strange glow was not hard to find. The grain of my new trunk was glowing red in a slow pulsing wave. I instinctively backed away, fearing it was about to explode. Although the glow was intense at it's peak, there was no discernible heat.
I was at a loss for what to do. Imagine the reaction if I called 999 and reported a glowing trunk in my bedroom. The only person I could possibly call was Mum. On the brink of making the call the trunk stopped pulsing and remained lit. The phone slipped from my hand as I realised the pattern that was glowing in the lid .... it was the Phoenix which I had found in the grain the day the trunk was delivered. It looked beautiful, but I was freaking out.
Mouth agape, I watched and waited with bated breath to see if anything else was going to happen. The room became dark again, and all was still.
"Am I going mad? What on earth just happened?"
After a couple of minutes I tentatively touched the trunk with trembling fingers. It felt cool and wooden, exactly like a trunk should feel.
Swallowing hard and staying at arms length I flipped up the iron catch, half expecting a Jack-in-the-box to leap out at me.
Feeling a little braver I lifted the lid and peered inside. The catalogue was still where I had tossed it. I removed it, but where my white cotton panties had been there was now a pair of black rubber ones!
Shocked, I let the lid fall shut with a solid thud, and scurried on my hands and knees as far away from the trunk as I could get.
"What the fuck!" I shouted
How did those get in there, and where were my white cotton ones? I flicked on the bedroom light. With the darkness held at bay I felt plucky, and grabbing a knife from the kitchen I quickly searched the flat for any sign of an intruder. The front door was still securely locked and all windows were closed.
With my initial panic now under control, I reopened the trunk. The rubber panties were carefully removed from the trunk using the knife and placed on my bed. They were the darkest shade of black I had ever seen and the shine was stunning. My research had taught me that the shine on rubber clothing was achieved by polishing it with an agent. However there was no oily residue on the panties, it was like the rubber was naturally glossy.
Unable to resist any longer I took them in my hands, and gasped. They felt incredible; light yet with body, slick yet dry, firm yet elastic.
I still could not comprehend what had happened, but I did not feel so afraid anymore. There was no immediate physical danger, no intruder in the flat who could have orchestrated the events.
Curious beyond reason, at that moment I knew I had to try them on, more than anything in the world. Here was my chance to actually wear the material against my skin. I was shaking again, but this time in anticipation not fear.
Discarding my silk pyjamas I stepped into the rubber underwear and gingerly pulled them up my legs. Goosebumps formed as the material lightly brushed against my calves and knees.
My breathing and pulse had quickened. Excitement building as the material moved up my legs, stretching supplely as it passed over my toned thighs.
Once past the top of my thighs and over my buttocks, the material returned to its original elasticity and settled snuggly into place between my butt cheeks and around my crotch. The grip was light and secure as if they were custom made and sized perfectly just for me. The rubber initially felt cool, but warmed quickly with body heat. The feeling was electric, my knees had become a little weak. A fire had started in my puss.
The panties felt so wonderfully part of me as I paraded around the room. I could feel my moisture forming behind the material.
The mirror in the wardrobe allowed me to view the full glory. Not a wrinkle or flaw to be seen. Jet black rubber against milky skin. It was like the material had become part of my skin, they didn't pull into my tummy or hips or cause unsightly bulges like my regular ones could do. Instead the material flowed with my curves in a beautifully erotic way. Literally a perfect fit.
The rubber was so supple and delicate that my pubes could be seen in relief through the front panel, I would need to attend to that in due course.
It was very late and I decided to get some sleep or the next day would be a write off. There was still a mountain of work to do on the Patterson case.
I decided to keep the panties in the trunk, not convinced how safe it would be to wear them any longer in case there were any side effects ... especially until I had solved the mystery of the magic trunk. I brushed my hand over the grain.
"What the hell are you? Are you really a magic box? I don't believe in magic, but I don't understand what happened tonight. Did you make these for me, they fit so perfectly? How did you make them? Why did you make them? And why the hell am I talking to a box?"
It was then that I noticed something different about the cover of the catalogue. There were new words that hadn't been there before. In large red scrawl it read "GET THE MIRROR!"
My mind was full of a million questions about the trunk, and the beautiful rubber panties within. Unsure whether I was even safe to be in the same room as the mysterious trunk, I dragged it into the spare bedroom and closed the door.
Sleep proved elusive, restlessly listening for any sounds coming from outside my bedroom, every few minutes peeping to see if the eerie glow had returned.
What played on my mind the most were the words which had appeared on the catalogue. "GET THE MIRROR!". What did that mean, and what would be the ramifications if I acquired said mirror?
By dawn I was shattered. After two strong coffees I headed off to work. The radio announced that the train workers were on strike again, my journey to and from work was going to be a pain in the ass.
It was a real challenge to get through the day. Focus was nowhere near what it should have been and coffee was having no effect. Instead of concentrating on the Patterson account I was preoccupied with thoughts of trunks, rubber and mirrors. The evening could not come quick enough, and during long meetings my eyes often became heavy.
The route home once again took me past the charity shop. I don't know why it hadn't occurred to me before, but suddenly I remembered the scruffy mirror from the previous week when I purchased the trunk. Could that be the mirror to which the writing on the catalogue was referring? The trunk and the mirror backing board had appeared to be made of the same wood, but the mirror had been in such a state of disrepair, surely there could be nothing special about it?
The mirror was not where it had been the previous visit. Becoming jittery I looked round trying to find it, eventually spotting it at the pay desk along with a young couple who were about to buy it.
Rushing over I smiled sweetly and said, as calmly as possible, "Please, I really need that mirror. It's part of a set."
"I'm sorry Miss" said the assistant "but this couple want to buy it."
"You don't understand, it's imperative that I get that mirror"
The male customer handed the saleswoman the cash. Without thinking I intercepted, and grabbed the money out of his hand. "Please, I must have that mirror".
I quickly counted the £30 in my hand. It seemed clear that a mirror was key to the events of the previous night. "Get the mirror" the scrawl had said .. I would not be able to unravel the mystery without it, and that was not an option!
"I'll give you £60 for the mirror" I haggled.
The man was unflinching. "Give us our money back and go away."
"£90!" I implored to the store clerk and couple.
Ninety pounds for a tatty mirror in a charity shop was madness, but I had no choice. I had to own it.
"Don't be ridiculous. The sale is made, this is our mirror."
"£180!" I blurted out. The assistant was looking at me, goldfish-like, as if I was crazy, or on drugs. Stupid money for sure, but these were desperate times. The mirror was the key to the trunk's secrets. It had to be mine at any cost.
The atmosphere was electric. I was irrational. I knew it, but the goal was clear, failure was not an option.
The couple exchanged awkward glances, my dogged persistence was creating palpable tension. Before they could respond I pleaded,
"£300!!" Desperation was clear in my voice. Shameful, but I didn't care.
The assistant looked on in stunned silence, watching the one way auction play out in front of her. A big ticket sale was coming.
"Look, whatever. Let the crazy bitch have it, at least the charity will benefit!" The couple quickly left the shop, muttering under their breath.
My knees turned to jelly with relief. I paid with my credit card and with some effort carried home the world's most expensive broken mirror at an athletes pace.
Virtually crashing through my flat door, I immediately gave the mirror pride of place on top of the trunk in the spare bedroom. I perched on the edge of the bed and watched intently for a few minutes, waiting for the big reveal. Nothing happened. A cup of coffee later and still nothing happened. No fireworks, no fanfares, no unicorns.
Nothing. No evidence at all that I had anything else in front of me other than an outrageously expensive box and mirror.
For the next couple of days I scrutinised the mirror before and after work. I poked it, prodded it and cleaned it. I rubbed it and found no genie. I talked to it and found no conversation. All it seemed to do was gather dust.
Perhaps this was not the mirror. A very pricey gamble indeed, but it seemed my instincts had been wrong.
"Mirror mirror on the trunk, show me that you're not just junk".
Even the trunk itself had become dormant since the other night, as if the batteries powering the magic show had run out. The situation with the mirror was compounding my confusion and frustration, and consuming a significant proportion of my thoughts.
If my mirror was not the mirror then it was still out there somewhere, beyond any reasonable ability to find it.
My mood became dark. Work was suffering due to constant distraction and tiredness. I had become irritable and snappy. Coworkers asked me if I was feeling OK, commenting how peeky I looked.
Having all but given up on the mirror, I was unexpectedly woken one night by a deep voice softly beckoning "Danielle?" repeatedly.
I leapt out of bed and rushed to the spare room.
I only half entered the room and looked at the mirror. It looked no different to how it had the day I bought it, unremarkable in most respects, except I was convinced it had just called my name.
"Hello?" I asked nervously.
"Oh my God, I wasn't dreaming. Who .... What ... are you?"
"My name is Jonathan Cartwright. Please don't be afraid, I mean you no harm. It is a little hard to explain, but my spirit is bound to this mirror and trunk. Please come nearer so that I may see you."
"You .. You promise you won't hurt me, right!"
"I give you my word."
His voice was mellow and soothing and even though the circumstance of his presence was bizarre, I felt calm and safe in his company. I gingerly perched on the edge of the bed in front of the mirror, my silk robe pulled tightly closed around me.
"Thank you Danielle, thank you for trusting me."
I was guarded. "Trust is a big thing, Jonathan was it? For now I am intrigued"
Jonathan laughed, a pleasant easy laugh. I found myself smiling in response, my nerves steadily fading.
"Well I appreciate your company. It gets rather lonely at times, and companionship is welcomed in whatever form it takes. Especially a lady of such beauty as yourself."
I blushed a little. "So, who are you and why are you in my furniture?"
There was a short pause. When he spoke again his voice was sombre as he told me his story.
"My wife and I had a small dwelling on the coast a little north of Whitby, a short walk from the nearest village.
We led a simple yet fulfilling life. As a craftsman and blacksmith I created many items for the nearby villagers. I would make things from many different materials such as leather, wood, wool and metal. In my smith I forged horseshoes and other items. The villagers would bring their horses to me to be shod. My wife, Mary was an excellent cook and skilled with a loom. She would make fine clothing from the wool harvested from our sheep. We sold our goods and services to the village and beyond, the income kept us in a comfortable life.
We farmed a few animals including goats, cows, sheep and chickens, and these provided us with a plentiful source of food. In many ways we were completely self sufficient.
Sadly we were never blessed with children. Mary was desperate to be a mother but alas it never happened for us. She would fill the void by doting on friends' children.
In October 1814 a child was born in the village. My wife was overjoyed for the family and made an especially beautiful blanket for the baby, fashioned from the wool of one of our sheep. The blanket was soft, warm and comfortable, a perfect gift for the time of year.
We visited the newborn after a couple of days, and celebrated the happy arrival with the parents. We gave them our gift, and our love.
But tragedy struck that very night.
The baby died in it's sleep. It was found around midnight, swaddled in my wife's blanket.
We were awoken by the sound of a loud crowd approaching our home. From the trail of flaming torches it was clear their number was many, there were angry shouts and cries of despair.
Unaware of events in the village that night, and without a thought I confronted the throng while Mary hid in the house. It was then that we learned of the infant's death. The crowd blamed my wife and her 'cursed' blanket.
A villager found the body of one of our goats which I had slaughtered for food earlier in the day. Their small minds drew many wild conclusions and they accused Mary of witchcraft, they were baying for revenge.
I desperately protested, reasoned and challenged their false accusations, but the crowd was large and emotionally charged. Mob mentality had prevailed.
They dragged my poor Mary from the house, all the while she protested her innocence. Their kangaroo court tried, convicted and sentenced her on the spot. She was to be burned for practising witchcraft.
They lashed her to a wooden pole in the ground and pivoted her vertically so she was held higher than three men. I strained and fought to get to her but the crowd overpowered me. They threw me in a small shed we used to store the shawn wool and bolted the door. I peered through a gap in the wooden boards and saw them build a pyre beneath her feet. I beat at the door and screamed in anguish as they lowered a torch and lit the tinder.
The flames grew rapidly beneath her and quickly became an inferno. I still hear her agonised screams even now, they will haunt me for evermore. I watched her life extinguish as the flames immolated her body, and in the end, as horrible as it sounds, I was almost thankful when her screams eventually ceased and her suffering ended.
The intensity of the fire had weakened the pole she was secured to. Her dead weight caused it to topple and collapse towards the shed I was imprisoned in. Although the pole did not reach the shed itself, the impact threw burning embers towards me. The dry grass and hay around the shed combusted and the flames took hold of the wooden structure.
It quickly erupted in flames. The pain of my searing flesh was unimaginable. With my last breath I shouted "I am coming to join you my love", while the shed collapsed, incinerating me too.
But something was wrong. I hadn't transitioned into the afterlife but had become trapped between the living and dead, my soul somehow bound within the charred wood of the shed.
The villagers destroyed and thew the remains of the shed and pyre into the sea beneath the cliffs.
So, you see, this is my punishment for failing to save my beautiful Mary. An eternity in waiting, never knowing if I will see my beloved again."
Tears flowed from my eyes as I listened to the terrible tale.
"Oh Jonathan, how horrible! But, why didn't you pass on, like Mary?"
"I still don't know to this day. Somehow my soul became bound to the charred wood of the shed. At some point the wood must have been made into the trunk and mirror you see before you. The mirror allows me to see into your world and speak with you. I have retained my skills as a craftsman and the trunk allows me create items in your world. Like the underwear for example."
"So you made them for me? They are wonderful, but how did you know how to make them in such a material? Where did the material come from?"
"I studied the book you left in the trunk. I cannot create things out of nothing, but I can transform items from one form to another. I transformed your underwear into the material in the pictures. I am glad you like them."
"I love them, and they fit perfectly."
"If you will permit me, I can make more things for you. It would be my pleasure."
"But what would you ask in return? What price would you expect me to pay?"
"I ask for nothing in return, except your happiness. It would also be nice to have someone to speak with, if you are not too frightened by me."
"I should be scared. There is a spirit in my bedroom. I don't know know if you are malevolent or evil. But, I don't think you are."
"Danielle, I can assure you I wish no harm to you at all. I cannot affect anything in your world. All I can do is through the trunk."
"Can you .... See me?"
"Yes, I can." I pulled my robe tighter still. "You are a very beautiful woman. You have some Viking in you I think?"
"I'm impressed. My parents are originally from Norway, but I was born in England."
"Please be reassured that I do not look out of the mirror all the time. It will be like I am not here, but if you call me, I will come."
The discovery of Jonathan had been a great shock to the system, but it was after all what I had been desperate to find, what I'd humiliated myself and paid £300 to find. I was happy to have Jonathan in my life.
"I'm not sure how I feel about this" I lied. "I need to think, and to sleep"
"I understand completely. Sleep well, and I hope you will allow me to be your friend."
I draped a sheet over the mirror, hiding the glass, and went back to bed for a very restless remainder of the night.
I woke up early in the morning after a very unsettled night. Sleep had been elusive, thoughts of Jonathan racing through my mind.
Now that the creator of the latex panties had been revealed I decided it was safe to wear them. I crept into the spare bedroom and retrieved them from the trunk as quietly as possible. True to his word Jonathan did not make any attempt to engage me. I slipped them on under my skirt suit, feeling very naughty to be wearing the kinky undies.
Before heading to work I decided to talk briefly again with Jonathan. I removed the cover from the mirror and waited for him to start a conversation ... a further test of his word.
Nothing. All quiet. Nothing to suggest a spirit was within a couple of meters of me.
"Good morning Danielle". His reply was very prompt, and took me a little by surprise.
"I am going to work now. I work in the city."
"Have a wonderful day. Perhaps we can talk again later? I want you to feel safe and comfortable with me in your home."
"Yes, I would like that"
"Perhaps I could make something else for you? Earn my keep so to speak." he chuckled happily.
I thought for a second and then fetched something to the room. One of my bras. "Could you make this into a rubber one? So it matches the beautiful panties I am wearing?"
"You are wearing them? I am so glad you like them. Place the bra in the trunk. You have a picture of the design you want?"
I found a picture in the Surrender catalogue and circled it with a marker and placed it in the trunk and closed the lid. The sheet was placed back over the mirror and I left for work.
The latex panties were so light that I hardly knew I was wearing them. I felt so naughty sat at my desk, wondering what my colleagues would think if they knew what I was wearing. I went to the toilet more often than usual, just so I could touch and admire them again and again. It wasn't just excitement about wearing the panties though, there was definitely a feeling of arousal too. I couldn't wait to see the matching bra that Jonathan was hopefully making, I was certainly developing something of a fetish for rubber clothing.
When I got home that evening I had a shot of Tequila to calm my nerves and approached the mirror. Silence, as if he were not there at all.
"Jonathan?" I whispered.
"Good evening Danielle, I hope you had a good day"
It had been a long time since anyone had asked how my day had been. It felt nice, like someone cared about me, and my life. Jonathan's mellow voice was calming and we talked at length about my day. It was surprisingly easy to converse with him and I was happy to talk openly about my growing love of fetish and rubber. He listened without any sign of judging me which reaffirmed my trust in him.
"So, what is it about rubber that excites you?"
"Good question, and I'm not sure I know the answer myself. Yet. The way it looks, feels and moves like a second skin is intoxicating."
"Would you like to see the bra I made for you?"
"Oh my gosh, yes please" I gushed. I opened the trunk and took out the gift. Made of the same material as the panties it felt so light in my hands. "It looks a little, umm, small?"
"Trust me Danielle, I think it will be perfect"
I rushed to my bedroom, threw off my blouse and bra and tried the new one. It stretched to support my pert 'C' cup breasts and held them with such rubbery intimacy, forming an effortlessly impressive cleavage I had never managed before, even with the most expensive tailored bras. I couldn't stop playing with with my breasts running my fingers from soft flesh to slick rubber, back and forth.
There was something else too. A tingling in my nipples which was not excitement alone. I whipped the bra off and in the cups where my nipples rested were many tiny rubber fingers. I was shocked, but the feeling had been too nice, and I put the bra on again, revelling the feeling as the fingers caused little electric tingles in my breasts.
"Jonathan, what have you done?" I asked when back in the spare room. "You added something to the cups!"
"Dear Danielle, I created exactly what you asked for, nothing more."
I examined the catalogue and found I had indeed circled a bra which had special little extras.
"Sorry, I thought you had added those yourself"
"I will only ever do what you desire Danielle, nothing more. I only want to make you happy in any way my limited abilities allow.
His sincerity was music to my ears and my trust of him grew. We talked extensively for the remainder of the evening, and after half a bottle of Prosecco I headed to bed, and slept soundly for the first time in days.
The very next day I wore my new bra and panties to work. The little extras in the bra cups kept me in a state of arousal throughout the day. Every time I moved, those little fingers would tease and tickle my nipples, making them ache with hardness and tingle with pleasure. It was unbelievably distracting and at times I struggled to mask their effect, our receptionist commenting at one point at how flushed my chest looked and asked if I had a rash. By the time I got home in the evening I was more than ready to bring myself to a thunderous climax in the bath with the shower head.
Over the next few days Jonathan would craft more wonderful items for me. I sacrificed my regular clothes and he would transform them into fantastic rubber versions. Cotton panties became rubber, bras became rubber, stockings became rubber, nightwear, leggings and other everyday clothing all became rubber upgrades. It was such an addictive rush.
Jonathan and I continued to talk about my evolving kinks. Talking with him had become quite natural, and I relished his support. There was no-one else in my life I could possibly speak to about such things without risking judgement or ostracism. I trusted only Jonathan, my confidante, with my most personal feelings.
My collection of rubber wear was becoming extensive. However some of the more exotic items in the Surrender catalogue had begun to intrigue me. My bar was beginning to raise.
Still too embarrassed to ask Jonathan to make me those, I decided to return to Surrender for a closer look.
The door to the shop was again closed to the common folk, it's card entry system guarding the inner sanctum.
Eagerly holding the business card like some priceless back stage pass, I pressed the buzzer. "Hello Cerberus" I whispered irreverently, "Won't you let me in?".
The door was opened by the same pretty assistant from my last visit, this time wearing a blue latex mini-dress. Before I could remind her who I was or show her the card she greeted me with an enthusiastic, "Hi! You came back. Come in, come in"
Her nature was so friendly and disarming I entered without a second thought. She gave me a little hug, taking me quite by surprise, her ample bosom pressing softly into mine.
"Thanks" I managed to stammer "Oh, it is much bigger inside than I imagined."
"Something for everyone! So, if I remember correctly, you were interested in our range of clothing?"
She was indeed correct that it was rubber clothing which had originally drawn me to the store. Since that day, however, Jonathan had made such fantastic clothing for me that it was rather apparent that the quality of the clothing in the shop fell short of his workmanship. Instead I found myself scanning the many other items which adorned the walls and racks. There were many fetish items of all descriptions including hoods, collars, cuffs, chains and whips. Anything my increasingly skewed imagination could recall from the magazines and internet seemed to be there in full view, tangible and real.
"Yes" I responded unconvincingly as I continued to scan everything except the clothing racks.
The assistant giggled and gently touched my arm. "Honey, I can see from your latex leggings that you have already found a clothing creator of great quality."
Without warning she gently stroked my ass and thighs, feeling the material. "An exceptional creator indeed, where did you get them?"
"A friend gifted them to me, he has wonderful taste."
"Indeed he does. They must have cost a pretty penny, you seldom see such quality outside of the most opulent in the scene. I can't see a single seam or join!"
She must have noticed me scanning the rest of the shop. "Your interest has grown from mere clothing perhaps?"
"I've never seen such items outside of pictures, they are more daunting up close aren't they."
"Well, I clearly cannot compete on clothing, but perhaps some of my more exotic items might interest you"
She happily accompanied me around the shop, showing me items and in some cases having to explain their purpose. It was clear that her clients had a very wide range of interests, from simple to plain weird; even sadistic in some cases. My mind was blown. If Jonathan could also make such items for me then a well stocked bondage collection was seriously on the cards.
As we moved deeper into the store I noticed a young blonde woman dressed up like a pony. She wore thigh high rubber stockings and rubber g-string. The g-string had many metal studs riveted in it making a beautiful contrast to the black rubber. On her feet she wore heelless shoes, shaped to look like hoofs. Black leather cuffs adorned her ankles and wrists. The wrist cuffs were attached to a wide leather belt, again studded to match the rest of the outfit. There was a tail hanging from the back of the belt which draped to just below the girl's knees. In her mouth was a thin leather strap which was tied off behind her head, just under her tight ponytail hair style. The rest of her was naked, including her full, pert breasts which jiggled hypnotically as she moved in the challenging heels.
"What is going on over there?"
"Ah, meet Pony Laura" she laughed. "She started working here recently and models outfits for the members, kind of like a living mannequin. Today she is a pony girl."
"She looks wonderful. Is that guy feeding her a sugar cube?"
"Yes, and she probably appreciates it. It can be hard work staying in character all day"
She really did appear to be "in character", making pony-like noises and gestures, and allowing herself to be led around the store and pampered.
There was a faint electric buzz and the front door opened. The assistant apologised and briskly went to welcome the new arrival. I wandered over and joined the small group of people fussing around pony Laura. They all appeared "normal" to the casual observer, but I wondered what skeletons their closets protected.
Pony Laura wiggled her tail teasingly as I approached. I touched and explored her outfit with fascination. The shoes and cuffs were secured with tiny little padlocks, but she seemed happy and consenting, a strange juxtaposition. As I circled her I glanced back towards the front of the shop.
The assistant was talking to a woman, a very erect, confident looking woman. The assistant didn't exactly cower before her, but was clearly affirming some unspoken authority which the newcomer carried. They were both looking in my direction and talking. Paranoia made me wonder if it was me they were talking about, but it could have been anyone in the throng around the pony. I told myself not to be so silly; I was only a customer there and of no special interest to the women.
The newly arrived woman's gaze met mine occasionally and I was struck by her piercing blue eyes, cold and intense.
After a short time she left, and the assistant returned to me, however she did not seem so effervescent as before.
It was time for me to leave. The assistant had been so helpful that I felt compelled to buy something while I was there. I put a set of leather wrist, and ankle cuffs and a black rabbit-style dildo on my credit card. Even for these few simple items the price was eye watering.
"Perhaps I will see Laura modelling something else next time" I said as I took my discreetly bagged items from the assistant.
In a surprisingly sombre tone, she replied "I don't think so. She is only temporary and is due to move on very soon. Oh, and if you want to check out the local scene further, here is a pass to the "The Lair" next week. Dress to impress" she smiled thinly.
I pocketed the invite and left the shop as inconspicuously as possible and hurried home with my bounty.
My mind was running at a million miles an hour. The visit to Surrender that day had further fuelled the fire of curiosity within me. The more I uncovered of the hitherto unknown fetish scene, the more I wanted to know.
While the bath filled I stashed the inferior leather cuffs in my bedroom. Hopefully Jonathan would be able work his magic on them in time, but I was too fatigued to have that conversation. I kept the rabbit with me for some special relaxation time in the bath.
It was an odd feeling, having a spirit for a flatmate. In many ways he was the perfect roomy. He kept himself to himself, didn't party or have strange people round, and only interacted when called upon by me. He would tirelessly listen while I babbled though my feelings, offering a non-judgemental ear, supporting and encouraging my evolving desires. I would often jokingly refer to him as my kink shrink.
He made me beautiful items while expecting little in return, only that I appreciate his craftsmanship, and allow him to see the fruits of his labour. It had felt awkward at first when I modelled his gifts in front of his mirror, but over time it became more comfortable.
Tentatively I opened the door to his room and peered inside. The towel was still draped over the mirror and all was quiet, the room remained exactly as I had left it earlier.
The fact that I was co-habiting with a spirit naturally played on my mind. It wasn't normal, possibly even dangerous, but somehow I was quite at peace with it. Jonathan's heartbreaking story had moved me and I felt some empathy for him and the centuries of emptiness he had endured. I could have run, could have told the authorities or even destroyed the mirror and trunk myself, but something deep inside me prevented such actions. In a strange way I felt like I owed it to him to be a companion, no one should have to suffer an eternity alone.
On some level I knew that I was using him, and his abilities. For sure he knew that too, however we both benefited from our unusual circumstances and the mutual reliance remained an unspoken bond between us.
Having pulled the door closed again I went to the now steaming bathroom, rabbit in hand.
Steaming hot baths were the best, and unless I came out a pinky red at the end then it was just not hot enough. I lowered myself slowly into the water, relishing the tingling of my skin as my body immersed under the foamy bubbles.
Once accustomed to the heat I set the rabbit to a very low setting and rested it near my clit, careful not to go too fast too soon. After some time I turned it up and slowly eased the large phallus into my pussy.
My nipples were hard and poked above the waterline like two obscene buoys. Almost imperceptibly my hips moved against the ever-deepening passage of the rabbit. I closed my eyes. The clit massager on the shaft was inching closer, but I was not sure when it would make contact. The girth of the toy was increasing as it progressed, it would not be long now, the suspense was the thrill.
And then, at last, the clit stimulator hit it's target and I squealed girlishly in pleasure as my whole body became hyper-sensitive. "Oh my God, what have I been missing?" I rasped.
Toes and fingers tingled with greater intensity, and were beginning to feel a little numb, the combination of hot water and arousal taking effect.
The sensation on my clit was becoming a little too much and, wanting to slow things down again, I slid the rabbit away from my clit. At least I tried to, but it would not move. I tried again a little more forcefully but it felt like the dildo was pulling my pussy with it, not sliding free. Confused, I saw that the water had become thick and black, like an oil slick.
I leapt out of the bath, gripped the rabbit again, but still it would not move. To my horror my pussy had become covered by a shiny black substance, securing the rabbit within me. The patch over my pussy felt rubbery like some of my clothing but it was much thicker and I could not feel the touch of my fingers through it. The handle of the intruder was macabrely sticking out of me like a thick stubby penis.
"Help!" I screamed. "Please help me. Jonathan!!"
There was no response.
The rabbit was still very much active inside me, and it's voraciousness was increasing. The head of the dildo had begun a surprising new action and was slowly turning within me, the bumps on it's angled head massaging and teasing my pussy walls.
The patch of rubber holding the device within me was beginning to spread and it was now a large triangle of rubber covering my whole pubic area. It was impossible to get my fingers underneath, the patch fused to my skin as if it had been glued in place.
An odd sensation from my fingers and toes revealed a fresh growth of the goo at my extremities. The blackness was liquid-like at first, and as it spread over my fingers and toes it became solid and shiny, numbing all sensation in the areas it covered. In desperation I tried to turn the handle of the bathroom door but my slick and desensitised fingers failed to gain any purchase on the round knob.
The rabbit again turned up it's intensity sending waves of pleasure through my pussy in spite of my hysteria.
The liquid continued its progress over my body, having now reached above my elbows and knees. My hands had become totally numb and hung lifeless and limp, rendered useless to me. The patch around my crotch had also spread alarmingly and had covered me like a large pair of briefs.
There was a new ache in my pussy as, unbelievably, the rabbit seemed to increase it's girth further. I tried to pull at the handle and turn it off but my flaccid hands just flopped uselessly against the handle.
Once my legs had become fully covered my numbed muscles failed, and I collapsed to the floor unable to support my weight anymore. The same atrophy afflicted my arms once the ooze had spread to my shoulders.
Immobile on the floor the ooze continued to creep relentlessly up my body, all the time firming and buffing to an incredible shine as it spread. Inexplicably my sexual arousal was also growing, the danger and ceaseless torment on my pussy was bringing me fast towards an orgasm. I was powerless to stop or control it.
I screamed and hollered for help. Surely the neighbours would hear my pleas and come to my rescue, I was wailing loud enough to wake the dead.
Once the ooze had covered my neck my voice cracked and became mute, and the weight of my head was no longer supportable. Laying motionless on my side, all I could do was wait as the ooze covered my head, coating it in a rubber shell. As the the liquid blackness worked its way up my skull my beautiful blonde hair fell out and lay scattered on the floor as if shawn by clippers.
Implausibly the handle of the rabbit shortened down to a stub, and then disappeared altogether into the rubber skin around my pussy as its activity increased yet again.
An orgasm was upon me; was being forced upon me while paralysis rendered me impotent against my violation. And then, all at once, as the rubber finally covered the entirety of my head and entered my mouth and nostrils, my pussy exploded into a mind blowing orgasm.
Even though my body was on fire with sensation, outwardly I had the appearance of a lifeless rubber mannequin showing no sign of the tumultuous feelings it was experiencing inside the rubber skin.
The rubber finally covered my eyes and vision became black.
I jolted as cognisance returned. My vision was clear and my muscles had energy. I was still in the bath, in real water again not the black ooze. The rabbit was still in my pussy, and slid out easily without any resistance. I was panting and felt a pleasant warm sensation inside of me. Quickly getting out the bath I noticed that the rabbit had the tell tale signs of my thick juices down it's shaft.
My skin had a pinky red colouration from the hot bath, not a trace of the black coating which had covered it a moment ago.
I perched on the edge of the bath and breathed deeply, calming myself, trying to make some sense of what had happened.
The only possible explanation was that I had experienced an hallucination. That was bad enough but what worried me more was how intense and real it had felt. Unlike the dream the other night where I knew that it was not real, this experience had felt so real on every sensory level. What also troubled me was my very sexual response to a very dangerous situation.
I took a large shot of neat whiskey for my nerves and headed for bed. Jonathan was not going to believe this story!
Following my previous visit to Surrender my mind was a little preoccupied with contemplation of the adventures which bondage gear could provide.
I often wore my leather cuffs at home and fantasised about being locked in them. I recalled my dream and imagined myself back on the bed, arms and legs chained to the posts. But my imagination was not up to the task. I had no terms of reference to build a believable fantasy.
Research on the internet turned up some options for self bondage with keys held in ice or other such elaborate solutions, but what I was increasingly desiring was to be dominated by someone. The idea of a real person controlling and using me was a huge turn on. But with increasing frustration I had no ideas about how I would go about arranging such an encounter.
The subject came up in one of my chats with Jonathan.
"Why do you want to be dominated Danielle?"
"I honestly don't know. It is just a feeling I have, to give up control, to grant someone else power over me. I can't explain it."
"I'm afraid I can't make a dominant for you, that is beyond even my skills. Perhaps someone in the fetish shop can help? Your friend Mel perhaps?"
"Actually she did give me an invite to a club. It's tomorrow night, but I am not sure I am brave enough to go."
"Let me ask you this. If your invite were to be taken away, how would you feel?"
I thought about the question a second. It was a very simple question, but caused me to ponder a surprisingly long time.
"I would feel ... sad, like I'd missed an opportunity."
"Then there is your answer. Better to go, and then leave by your own choice if necessary, rather than dwell on what could have been."
Jonathan's words did make sense. I had come so far on my journey and was on the precipice of a rare opportunity.
I decided to visit the club and see "the scene" for myself. So far my experience had been theoretical, and voyeuristic. It was time to get a little more hands-on, I hoped. The date on the flyer was the next day, a Thursday. Going out clubbing on a school night reminded me of my student days.
After checking a few websites it seemed that a catsuit and boots would be an appropriate ensemble, lovely and rubbery without being too risque. Unaware of how the club thing worked I also decided to take my cuffs with me, and also a simple collar, just in case.
I eagerly whipped the cover from the mirror and, sat cross legged on the spare room bed I spoke with Jonathan. He patiently listened as I babbled on for some time about my plans, offering opinion and support when asked.
"So I think a simple catsuit and boots should be enough to allow me to blend in and not draw too much attention to myself"
"Don't you want to be noticed Danielle? I thought you wanted to get a little deeper? Are you having a change of mind?"
"Not exactly. I want to see how things work from a safe distance. To be honest I'm scared, I don't want to to make a stupid mistake or look foolish."
"Indeed, I understand. You would like me to make you an outfit?"
"Yes please Jonathan. Are you sure you don't mind doing so? I feel so selfish taking from you all the time, I so wish I could pay you back in some way"
"Your happiness is enough for me Dani."
We discussed designs and I showed him pictures I had seen in catalogues and online. Simple yet classy was the order of the day.
"So Dani, what I need from you are some boots, gloves and something sized to your body. Also we will need some metal"
After searching my bedroom I returned with the items Jonathan needed. The body-clothing was the trickiest, but I found one of my old onesies buried at the back of the wardrobe. Reluctantly I picked my Ugg boots and Gucci gloves. They had been very expensive, but the temptation of new rubbery items trumped my reticence.
During the scavenger hunt I became acutely aware of how few "normal" clothes I had left, having already sacrificed older and cheaper items I now found myself forced to condemn my expensive designer clothing to fuel my desires. 'For the greater good' became my motto.
I put the required items in the trunk along with a couple of old teaspoons and latched it closed.
"Thank you Jonathan"
"You are most welcome Dani"
I replaced the cover over the mirror, made a pot of coffee and worked into the early hours on Patterson case.
Like a watched pot Thursday seemed to drag on forever while I wished the end of the working day to arrive, leaving the office like a greyhound from a trap. Once home I went straight to the spare room and pulled the cover from the mirror.
"Hello Dani, how was your day? How are you?"
"Long" I laughed, "And I'm nervous, but very very excited!"
"Your outfit is ready and waiting for you in the trunk. I do hope you like it."
I flipped the lid open and gasped at the contents within, the rubber already at a high shine.
"It looks amazing Jonathan, thank you"
"You are very welcome. May I see you wearing it before you leave?"
"Of course" I gushed, it was a small price to pay for the gift.
I gathered the bundle of items, skipped out of the room and dropped them on my bed while I showered and prepared myself. Remembering the ugly lines my pubes had made in the first rubber panties I made sure I was fully shaved down below, and also applied depilatory cream to get as smooth as possible for as long as possible.
The catsuit rubber was amazing as always, light yet strong. Curiously there was no zip down the front or back in order to get into it.
I popped my head round the spare room door, hiding my nakedness from view of the mirror. Although I was now comfortable with Jonathan's presence in the flat, I still felt too self conscious to appear naked in front of his mirror.
"How do I put it on?" it felt like such a stupid, amateurish question.
"Through the neck. You will find it will stretch just enough."
He was right as usual. The neck piece stretched wide with amazing ease, my lubricated legs slid into their rubbery sheaths effortlessly as if the material were nylon rather than rubber. With some effort I eased the neck opening up my body, reaching the limit of it's elasticity as it passed over the girth of my hips. My breasts found their place within cups formed into the suit, each of them held in their own perfect rubbery embrace.
My slick arms slid easily into the sleeves, at the ends of which were integrated rubber gloves ready to receive my hands. When the neck opening passed my shoulders it returned to its naturally snug size and gently sealed at the base of my neck.
I admired myself in the wardrobe mirror in disbelief. From top to bottom not a pinch nor an imperfection could be seen. Even when I moved, flexed, bent, stretched and twisted the suit adapted and maintained a flawless second skin as if it had been painted directly onto my naked flesh.
My breasts looked incredibly full in their tailored cups and retained most of their natural buoyancy and freedom. I flexed my ankles and my boobs jiggled and swayed so naturally. I gently cupped and squeezed them, my fingers deformed and moved the pillowy flesh as if I were naked, it was truly incredible. In videos I had seen on the internet boobs and butts were often compressed within the suits and lost some of their natural form. I checked my ass and the rubber disappeared up my butt crack a little, preserving the cleft of my cheeks which flexed and moved wonderfully.
Practical questions came to my mind and I wondered how I would be able to go to the toilet in the suit, I could not see a zipper or opening which would allow such necessities. However, after a little finger-searching I found a flap of latex covering a zip which went from the top of my pubis to perineum. The flap was so well crafted that it's loose edge was all but invisible when in place over the zip. Once the zip was open there was another flap of the material that prevented it from chafing my pussy.
"Such wonderful attention to detail!"
Next were the boots. I sat on the edge of the bed, again marvelling at how the suit failed to crease or deform as I leaned down and popped the ankle boots on. Surprisingly there were no zips or laces to be fastened, the boots simply pulled on and were held in place with the same elasticity as the suit. The boots were made of the same material as the catsuit, pitch black with an incredible shine. Once settled in place the rim of the boots became invisible and blended so seamlessly with the suit that they appeared to be as one garment from neck to toe. The boots had a five inch spiked heel which was much higher than I usually wore and caused me to stand with a tilted posture which took a little while to get accustomed to.
After some practice walking around the flat became easier but the heels caused my hips to have a pronounced sway which I struggled to suppress. Blending in at the club would be easier if I didn't have to walk!
I sat at my dresser and styled my long hair into a straight style, blonde contrasting against black beautifully as it cascaded over my shoulders and back. The finishing touches were smoky eyes, warm blush and bright red lipstick.
Before leaving my room I picked up the collar from the bed. It was made of fine quality black leather, 2 inches high with a single buckle at the rear. Riveted to the front of the collar was a small square steel plate from which a steel ring hung. Once the collar was buckled in place around my neck the ring would rest against the centre of my collar bone. Engraved into the steel plate was the now familiar Phoenix design.
Blown away by the outfit I hurried through to show Jonathan.
"What do you think?" I asked doing a slow turn in front of the mirror.
"Dani, you look fabulous indeed, my perfect muse. I hope you like it?"
"Oh Jonathan, it is amazing. It almost feels like I'm not even wearing it at all, the rubber feels so natural it's perfect!"
"If you are happy, then I am happy. I think you will blend in nicely at your gathering tonight?"
"I really hope so, Jonathan"
Once my taxi had arrived I popped the collar and cuffs in my leather shoulder bag and threw on my leather trench coat, covered Jonathan's mirror and headed out on an adventure.
At around 10pm the taxi pulled up outside an innocuous brick building.
"Are you sure this is the right place?" I scanned the area with trepidation.
It was an old area of the city. The full moon provided just enough light to see, the elongated shadows gave the area a disconcerting feel.
"Yup, this is it"
"Will you wait a moment while I make sure?"
The driver nodded dismissively as I paid the fare.
My rubber squeaked softly as I alighted. The night air was cool. I shivered a little and vigorously massaged my hands, warm breath forming misty plumes as it did battle with the cold night air.
A set of stone steps led down from the pavement to beneath the building in front. As I descended the taxi sped off, clearly not wanting to hang around in the area. At that moment, I was very much of the same opinion, but with my ride gone the only option was to proceed.
I paused. The bottom of the steps was so dark as if even the moonlight was afraid to encroach. Through the gloom I could faintly see a heavy looking door. Nothing about the building reassured me that I was in the right place.
After several more steps I reached the bottom. A burly, barrel of a man suddenly appeared from an alcove in the shadows, taking me by surprise. Subdued moonlight shone off his hairless head, casting harsh shadows down his face, accentuating hardened chiselled features. His chin looked like it could take a kick from a mule. A full length overcoat did little to hide his powerful frame.
He towered above me despite my heels, "Good evening Miss, may I see your invite please?"
I placed the invite in his Navvy-like hands and waited while he scrutinised it. He smiled and opened the door.
"Welcome to The Lair Miss, have a good evening"
The first thing I noticed upon entering the club was how expansive it was. The foyer area was softly lit and carpeted with a deep red pile. There was an air of opulence about the decor.
"Would you like to check anything into the cloakroom this evening?" a girl called from a booth to the left.
I passed her my coat but kept the bag, embarrassed that if left unguarded someone might discover it's contents.
The assistant hung the coat on a rack behind the desk and passed me the ticket. She looked me up and down unashamedly, "You look wonderful".
Unaccustomed to such comments from strangers my cheeks flushed, but the ego boost was welcomed.
"Umm, where do I go now?"
"Through the next double doors. The bar is to the right and the dance floor and stuff is to the left"
Before entering the main club I quickly went to the restroom. I needed a second or two to compose myself. My heart was beating quickly now.
"What am I doing" I whispered to myself while reapplying my lipstick. It would be easy to leave the club at that moment, pretend that nothing had happened. But I knew that relief would only be temporary and that regret would set in in a day or so. No. No running away.
I opened my bag and looked at the collar and cuffs within. Should I put them on yet? Unsure of the club's etiquette I opted to wear the collar only. The collar would complement my outfit, I reasoned, but the cuffs may attract too much attention before I was ready. I wanted to check out the club from a safe distance.
With the collar loosely, but securely buckled I did a final makeup check and left the restroom.
Beyond the doors the club seemed to grow again. It must have been the basement for several of the buildings in the row. People were dancing to the left. The electronic music was loud but not overbearing. In the middle of the dance area was a raised box where the DJ was spinning the decks. Everyone was wearing fetish attire of some description; rubber, leather and chains seemed to be the dress code. Even the DJ was wearing a tight black rubber sleeveless vest. Along the length of the walls were shadowy booths, reminiscent of a 60's diner. The lighting had been arranged such that the booths remained dark and discreet.
I felt like everyone's eyes were suddenly upon me, as if I'd just entered the Slaughtered Lamb. Dutch courage was needed, and quickly. I headed for the bar as unobtrusively as possible, but my heels caused me to walk with the exaggerated sway to my hips, almost giving them a life of their own.
The barmaid was dressed as a Bavarian beer girl, her outfit beautifully crafted from various colours of latex. The rubber skirt barely covered her ass, and goodness knows how she squeezed her huge bosom into the stretched top. Her leather waist cincher accentuated the curves of her hips and boobs.
She smiled warmly "What can I get you?"
The array of bottles, optics and pumps was impressive, but I chose to play it safe. "White wine, thank you".
"Please, allow me to buy this for you."
I jumped at the sound of a man's voice next to me. His smile was wide and toothy. He was tall, certainly over six feet and of slender build. His face was clean shaven, and black hair well groomed. He was wearing a black suit, black collared silk shirt and a red tie. The ensemble was in stark contrast to the majority in the club, as if he hadn't got the memo about the dress code.
"Thats very kind of you, thanks."
"Put it on my tab" he told the bar maid. "You are most welcome ... miss?"
I paused, self preservation causing me the think carefully before I spoke. I searched for a pseudonym .. for now at least ..
"Phoenix" I smiled.
"Aha, a pet name? I've not seen you here before Phoenix. Are you with someone?" he asked, oozing confidence at every word.
His lack of reaction to my pseudonym suggested it was common practice, people wanted to protect their identities. I felt like I had passed the first test.
"Just little old me" I quipped nervously taking a sip of wine. "This is my first time here. Actually it's my first time visiting any club like this". I was gripping the wine glass with both hands in front of my chest, like Van Helsing's crucifix keeping the vampire at bay.
He raised an eyebrow "You're kidding me, right? There is no way someone with a pseudonym and looking the way you do is new to all this. Your ensemble is quite outstanding if I may be so bold"
Fidgeting a little under his intense green eyes I replied "It's true. I'm just fortunate to know a very good ... umm ... tailor".
"Talented indeed. Well, I think you are the most stunning creature here tonight. Cheers!" The stranger offered up his glass and we clinked them in a toast.
"So" he continued. "What brings an unaccompanied beautiful rubber girl to The Lair tonight?"
"In all honesty I don't know" the wine was starting to loosen my tongue. "Curiosity I guess. I have had something of an epiphany recently, and when I received an invite for this club, I thought I'd come and see for myself."
"Interesting. And what do you think of what you have seen so far?"
"It's fascinating, surprising, eye-opening .... but now I am here, I don't really know what to do. I never thought this far ahead."
Momentarily I became distracted as a leather clad woman walked directly up to us. She was naturally tall, but towered in her high heels. She wore a sleek black leather sleeveless dress which clung to her body from her neck down to her knees. Her body was curvy yet slim. A split up the dress exposed a powerful thigh. Her jet black her was pulled into a tight ponytail. I considered her to be older than myself, even though her complexion was flawless. She looked me straight in the eyes exuding such power and confidence. The woman looked familiar somehow but the penny just wouldn't drop. Ignoring my companion and placing a leather gloved finger under my chin, the woman gently tilted my head back to look up into her steely face.
"I have been watching you. I would take you" she purred with a foreign accent, perhaps eastern European.
My male companion coughed, glaring at the woman. She half turned her head towards him, still holding me with her stare. A narrow, dangerous smirk formed on her lips. "Relax Lothar, I'm only stating my interest."
"You know the protocol here Anya" he flatly retorted.
She gave a dismissive shrug, and turned her gaze towards him. I suddenly felt able to breathe again. Lothar and the lady never broke eye contact as Anya sidled her way behind me, her leather finger softly tracing the edge of my jaw line, down my neck to my right shoulder. I felt her other hand rest on my left shoulder. She squeezed gently but with purpose. My heart was fluttering, the tension palpable. Anya's hands slowly traced a path down my arms and came to rest upon my hips. I swallowed hard. All the while Lothar silently stared back at her, like two dangerous animals posturing over a piece of meat.
There was a gentle pull from Anya's fingers on my hips and she pressed herself into me; my ass softly molded to her body, her breasts pressing firmly into my back. Her perfume was sweet.
The sensory overload became too much for me and I involuntarily shuddered. Lothar's eye twitched, and then he blinked and his mask faltered. He took a sip of his drink, moving his glance from Anya to me.
Anya laughed aloofly, evidently the impasse was broken and she had won the moment.
Before leaving us Anya whispered in my ear "Come find me, pretty rubber girl" . The woman's breathy words caressed my ear like kinky ASMR, the hairs on the back of my neck prickled.
The sound of Anya's heels faded into the music as she left us. Once sure that Anya had gone I risked a glance over my shoulder. "Who on earth was that?"
"That was Anya. She is a Domme, and has taken an interest in you it seems" he smiled weakly, still watching Anya saunter across the room.
"I'm afraid I don't understand ..."
"You really weren't joking about being new to this were you. How can I put this ... she wants to play with you, perhaps even claim you as her property"
"What !?!" I laughed nervously at the thought. "Why would she think I wanted that?"
He reached up and flicked the ring on the front of my collar, causing it to tinkle gently. "Because you are wearing this, and it is unlocked with no leash attached. In here that means you are a free agent and looking for a Master or Mistress. It is a dangerous thing to wear an unlocked collar, especially looking the way you do. To a predatory Domme like Anya, the quality and attention to detail in your appearance says you are an experienced submissive, or even slave. And Anya is about as predatory as they come!"
"I'm such an idiot" I sighed, hanging my head and emptying my glass "I should have researched this first. I'm completely out of my depth. But ... she would need my permission to do anything though, right? She couldn't really just do stuff without my consent, this is not the middle ages, there are laws!"
"Normally yes, but Anya is something of an enigma. No-one really knows much about her, other than by rumour and reputation. And if the rumours are to be believed, she should be avoided by all but the most committed fetishist."
"My God. Thank you so much for protecting me from her!"
Seemingly sensing my embarrassment Lothar continued. "Don't worry. Listen, you said you are curious. Perhaps I could show you a little of what it is like to be a submissive. No strings attached. And if you don't like it then no harm done. If you should decide you want to take things further, or even approach Anya, at least you will understand a little more of what you would be getting yourself into"
I raised an eyebrow. "No strings attached? What is in it for you? Surely there are more experienced girls in here you would prefer to meet?"
"Young lady, I would get to spend time with a beautiful rubber girl for the evening and perhaps, in time, you may consider playing with me again, or consider being my submissive."
The proposition excited me. At last I would get to feel what it was like to be controlled, but with the promise of a safety net. The standoff with Anya had been a thrill, I was keen to go a little further with Lothar.
"Yes please, Sir!" he replied with a firmer tone to his voice,
I sensed I was on the brink of something big, a leap of faith.
"Yes please, Sir"
"Very good Phoenix. Now, your safe word is 'Red'. If at any time you feel that things are too much for you then just say that word and I will release you. Understand?"
"Yes Sir" my voice trembled slightly. This was actually going to happen. I was going to freely give a total stranger control over me. My mind was saying no, but the heart was overruling, driving me forwards into the unknown.
"Good girl. As a show of your consent, I want you to lean forward and allow me to attach this leash to your collar"
Lothar held open the clip of a leash a few inches in front of the collar. I took a deep breath, then leaned forward until the clasp snapped onto the metal ring.
I was now under the control of the mysterious Master Lothar!
Lothar gently guided me across the room to a quieter corner. Being led on the end of a leash felt indescribably naughty. People watched with approval as he led his leashed submissive.
In the corner was a plush deep maroon leather armchair. He sat down and nodded towards a large floor cushion in front. "Kneel please" he ordered.
My rubber skin squeaked and stretched as I knelt facing him.
He began to gently caress my breasts through the rubber. It felt electric, I bit my lip stifling a moan. His hands were trembling very slightly and there was a bead of sweat on his forehead.
Never before had I been touched so brazenly in public. The thought of people watching both embarrassed and excited me.
"Turn around so that you are facing the room."
Facing into the belly of the club Master Lothar twisted my hair up into an untidy makeshift bun.
He then crouched in front of me. He offered up a bright red ball with a strap attached at either side. "May I use this?" he asked politely.
I nodded and he placed it in front of my mouth, resting on my lips.
The ball was gently pressed into my mouth and the buckle fastened behind my head. It felt huge, and I was salivating already.
"Good girl. You are unable to speak clearly now, so in addition to your safe word you may also shake your head if you want me to stop, ok?"
"Yesh Shir" I replied, feeling the pooled drool run down my chin.
Next he lashed his end of the leash to a steel ring embedded in the floor next to the chair. With his foot he tapped the insides of my knees.
I adjusted my position, but it seemed it was not enough. He again tapped the insides of my knees.
"A little wider please Phoenix"
My knees felt obscenely wide, and I was feeling some unease with the slutty posture. People peered and whispered to each other.
"Arms behind your back, please, and link your fingers. Back straight, shoulders back and chest out. You are doing great."
Master Lothar returned to his armchair. He was always polite in his requests, and I felt safe at all times. I did my best to comply with his posture requests. It was difficult, tending to slouch, and whenever I let my posture slip he would tap my butt gently and remind me of his instructions.
My thoughts drifted to my bag and the set of cuffs within. Should I tell Master Lothar about them so that he might use them on me? At that moment I realised that I didn't have the bag with me anymore. In the excitement of being leashed I had completely forgotten about it. After a panicked scan, I was relieved to see it was still on the floor at the bar where we had been stood.
After some time, I'm not sure how long, Master Lothar ordered me to turn to face him again and removed the gag, he caught the pool of drool which followed in a white handkerchief. I giggled at the ridiculousness of it. He laughed too and unhitched the leash and unclipped it from my collar.
"I must go now Phoenix, I have matters to attend to. How did you enjoy tonight?"
"It was nice" I replied, saving his feelings from a less than enthusiastic response.
In truth, it had been nice. He had treated me respectfully, and I had felt completely safe all the time. I had experienced some loss of control and submissiveness, but somehow it ultimately felt somewhat ... unfulfilling. I had been expecting something a little more intense, but maybe the fetish scene was not actually like that in real life. Maybe the pictures which I had seen had presented an exaggerated and fantastical version of the truth, in the same way that porn does for sex. The fetish gear in the store and pony Laura had looked edgy, but maybe it was all just for show.
"Good" he said and passed me a card with his number on. "Call me sometime, or perhaps I may see you here again." And with that he swept across the room and out to the foyer.
The clock on the wall showed 12:50am. Tomorrow was Friday, a work day, and I needed sleep. It was then that I noticed my bag had gone from the bar. Neither the bar staff nor the nearby patrons claimed to have seen it, or where it went. I panicked, in addition to containing the cuffs it had my mobile phone in it too. It would be an awkward conversation with the insurance company when it came to the "Where did you lose it" questions.
Quickly panning the room I found it again, resting against the end of a booth seat. I dashed to the bag, but as I approached a hand from the dark booth snatched it out of reach.
"Careless, leaving one's bag unattended" said a voice from the shadows. I recognised it at once ... Anya! My blood froze as piercing blue eyes stared out at me from the shadows.
"Please, can I have my bag back?"
Anya was rummaging inside and to my horror pulled out the cuffs.
"What are these doing in here? Why aren't you wearing them?"
"I don't know why I brought them. It's late, please pass me my bag Anya"
"Never call me Anya!" she barked through clenched teeth. "You can address me as Mistress Anya you ignorant bitch"
I stammered, stunned by the aggressive outburst, unsure how to respond. With Lothar gone I was flying solo, playing Russian Roulette with Anya. The question in the chamber - "Why aren't I wearing them". I sensed that a wrong move could have dire consequences. I decided to play the "I need to go" card.
"I'm sorry, I don't know how all this works. Forgive me, Mistress Anya, but I need to be going."
BANG !! I just lost.
Anya held the two leather wrist cuffs towards me. "Put them on".
Things were getting serious.
"Please, Mistress Anya, I really can't right now. Can I please just have my stuff and I will stop bothering you."
My stomach was knotting, I suddenly needed to pee.
"Want? Want? You think you have a fucking choice?"
Her face was expressionless, despite her tirade.
Anya pulled a riding crop from behind her and struck it against the seat, making a loud crack which seemed to transcend the music. Faces turned to see what the fuss was about.
"Put them on, NOW!"
I wanted run. I should have run. Jonathan could make replacement cuffs, but my mobile phone was still in the bag. To get it back I would have to placate Anya. When Lothar left, my gusto for the evening left with him. I was tired and had a difficult day at work ahead of me, I was certainly not in the mood for a confrontation with her. But there was also some part of me that wanted to comply with her demands. Beyond all reason, beyond all common sense, I wanted to get a little taste of Anya's world.
As instructed I wrapped, and buckled, a cuff round each wrist.
"Tighter" she demanded; reluctantly I tightened them another notch, the pinch firm but comfortable.
"Where is Lothar?" asked Anya
"He had to go and attend to something"
"I watched you with him. Such a waste of a slave like you. Did you know his real name is Lance?"
I shook my head, turning the cuffs round my wrists nervously.
"He lives with his mother and waits tables in a restaurant. The business he needs to attend to is the curfew his mother sets. Proper little Cinderella don't you think?"
It was painful to hear her words, how she destroyed his character and his mystery in such a callous way.
"He seemed nice ..." I offered a feeble defence.
"He is a fraud. He is no real Dominant, it's a game for him. He is probably still a virgin, I could see him sweating and trembling as he touched you from here. How did you feel, sat like a kitten at his feet?"
"Well, I .. "
"You looked bored. I could tell you wanted more, needed more. Isn't that right?"
"I .. I .." She had me on the back foot. Guarding my answers meant slow responses, I could not calculate the safest answer to give before she was pressing her questions again.
"Answer the question Phoenix"
My blood ran cold again. "How do you know my name?"
"There is very little I don't know my dear. And what I don't know, I make it my business to find out. I don't know your real name right now, but I will".
Her smile was disconcerting.
"Put these on" she commanded as she passed me the ankle cuffs.
I silently berated myself for bringing the collar and cuffs that night. I had been seduced by the beauty, allure and fantasy of Jonathan's gifts; how they made me look and feel. But I had failed to consider what the items might mean. Master Lothar had warned me at the bar, and his prediction was steadily coming to fruition. Narcissism had bought me a chip in the big game, and Anya was cashing it in. She was right, I did need more.
Once the ankle cuffs were buckled Anya emerged fully from the shadows. It was then that I realised why she looked familiar. The fetish shop. She was the striking woman who had arrived while I was with pony Laura.
"I remember you .. from the fetish shop the other day".
Anya just smiled, and reached for my wrist and examined the cuff. With a deft move she hooked a small padlock through the buckle and snapped it closed.
"Whoa whoa! Hey, what are you doing?". She held my wrist with surprising strength, easily resisting my attempts to pull away.
"Question me again, and I promise you will regret it! Other arm!"
Stuck between a rock and a hard place, a padlock was snapped shut over the buckle of my other wrist. She then knelt and added padlocks to both ankle cuffs.
The permanency which the locks afforded the cuffs was not lost on me, and astonishingly there was a swarm of butterflies in my stomach, not just from fear ....
Anya had slipped behind me and added one of her little locks to the collar too after tightening it a further notch.
I pulled at the buckle on the collar, and of course found it to be secured. "Oh shit" I whispered.
"Oh shit, indeed"
Immediately a leash was attached to the collar and Mistress Anya forcefully dragged me to the centre of the room. I stumbled at first but quickly found my feet. The locks on the cuffs delicately rattled in stark contrast to their nefarious purpose.
Anya had a whispered conversation with a member of staff who quickly disappeared into a side room. He returned pushing something on wheels. As it got closer I could see it was a chair. It was wooden, possibly oak, and upholstered on the seat and back with black leather, riveted to the wood.
"Wait, wait" I stammered what is that for?"
"It's for you, little Phoenix, you must be tired after wearing those darling heels all night."
Anya sat me down. She then pulled my arms behind the chair back and secured them somehow. However hard I pulled they would not budge. With my attention on my wrists I failed to notice her crouch at my feet and clip the ankle cuffs to metal eye holes in the seat legs.
A circle of club patrons had formed around us, whispering and looking at me expectantly.
"Stop Mistress Anya, please" I begged. "I don't want to play your games"
She stopped by my side. From my seated position she towered above me, looking down her nose at her whining captive.
"Games? I do not play games you stupid girl. I only ever play for keeps. I can be your fairy godmother or your bogeyman. If I choose to do so, I can turn you into a snivelling sex slave, a rubber fuck toy or beast of burden destined for a life on a ranch. Oh yes, girl, I can seriously fuck you and your life up."
Tears were streaming down my face. Anya's words were scaring the crap out of me. She was walking round and round the chair while she spoke, her words loud so that the crowd could hear how she belittled and humiliated me.
"This may sound frightening to you. But, there are people in this world that crave such a life, something inside compels them to push their limits and let go of their "normal" life."
Anya slipped a catch between my collar and the seat back, forcing me to sit upright at all times.
"It sets them free" she whispered into my ear.
Anya was now turning a handle connected to the seat part of the chair. As she did so my legs were forced open by the seat splitting in two and pivoting outwards. When she stopped turning my legs were very open at an alarming angle. I felt very vulnerable. Next she tightened a strap over each thigh, securing it to each leg of the chair. Two more little padlocks and I was very much immobile.
A queue of five people had formed in front of me. From behind my chair Anya had retrieved what I recognised as an Hitachi wand.
"I can tell you are very excited to be locked to the chair. I think you owe me for setting you so nicely, so these good people have agreed to help you cum for me."
I blinked, not believing what I was hearing. She was going to force me to cum! In front of the whispering crowd!
My brain was shouting "RED, RED", but my mouth was not responding.
Anya located and unzipped my catsuit, exposing my hot and sweaty puss.
"Well, well" she purred examining me, "You are juiced up and ready to go"
"So! Each of your friends here will have one minute to make you cum with the wand. I will be the last in line, and I expect you to save your orgasm for me, understand?"
All I could do was watch dumbfounded.
"If you fail me and cum early, then for each remaining friend you will receive a stroke of the crop on your ass. One way or another I get what I want"
She was smiling evilly. She had me right where she wanted me.
The first "friend" in the line was a young guy maybe nineteen I guessed. He approached me and settled between my stretched legs. Oh the humiliation. The dirty little bastard had a sniff at my exposed puss and licked his lips. I wanted a hole to swallow me up.
I leapt as he placed the buzzing machine directly on my clitty. I had cooled off a little and it was too much too soon. It felt uncomfortable. There was no way I was going to cum like that. He was clearly inexperienced and just kept pressing that damn wand harder on my button. At least I would be spared at least one strike of the crop.
After his minute was up he left in a huff, his ego dented by failing to make the bound lady in the chair cum. Round one to me.
The next "friend" was the Bavarian barmaid.
She was more skilled than the young man and used the wand more expertly. By the end of her minute she had me gasping and moaning, but failed to get me over the edge. She gave me a kiss on the lips before heading back to the bar.
"Very good girl. Time to up the ante."
She had a ball gag stuffed into my mouth with surprising speed. It was slightly bigger than Lothar's, and forced me to breathe through my nose. I squealed as I felt her fingers enter my pussy slightly and then she wiped them over my upper lip. With each breath through my nose I got a heady aroma of my own intimate juices, sweat and latex. This brought laughs and claps from the crowd.
Next in line was a girl on the end of a leash. I guessed her age was similar to my own. She was not bound and the woman holding her leash seemed more of a girlfriend than a dominant. More players I sighed.
It was clear from the start that this woman had more experience. She played the wand around my clit and pussy masterfully, her friend watching my reactions and guiding her pet. By thirty seconds I was on the brink, despite the yucky smell assailing my nostrils.
I was physically shaking now, the little padlocks rattling.
"Twenty seconds left" Anya teased
I was so close. If I could have closed my legs I could have saved myself, but they were not mine to control. My moans were loud and real through the gag. Not long now, I can do this I thought.
"Ten seconds" Anya announced
The girl's friend whispered something in her ear, and with a knowing wink at me she put the wand in the sweet spot and I came hard and uncontrollably, screaming into the gag. To my amazement and horror I was visibly gushing liquid from my pussy. I had never ejaculated before, although I had heard that it was possible during an orgasm. The poor girl who had made me cum got most of my ejaculate in her face and breasts, and unbelievably she was grinning widely as she licked her lips.
As I twitched and shuddered while my orgasm faded I saw an expression on Anya's face which was somewhere between admiration and pride. She addressed the crowd again.
"We have a winner ladies and gentlemen."
There was enthusiastic clapping and the odd whoop from the freak show audience. I was released and led unsteadily to the rear of the chair. My wrist cuffs were clipped to rings on top of the chair back, and my ankles clipped similarly to the bottom of the rear legs.
"But unfortunately for Phoenix it is time to pay the piper. Two friends left means two strokes of the crop"
Each of the remaining participants took their turn to strike my ass with the crop. It hurt, not too badly, but left a burning sensation. And then finally Anya took her swipe. She did not hold back. It hurt, REALLY hurt and I yelped in pain much to her amusement.
The crowd dispersed while the padlocks on my cuffs were removed. The ball gag came out with a sloppy pop. I was glad to be able to breath through my mouth again. I massaged my burning ass.
"You may thank me girl"
"Thank you Mistress Anya"
Anya re-sealed my catsuit and brushed my matted hair with her fingers. This time, almost affectionately.
"I meant what I said earlier. I would take you. Even more so now"
I remained quiet, still in shock. I had neither the words nor the energy to respond cohesively.
"You may approach me again. But remember this. If you do then it will be for keeps. No games. You will not be a submissive, you will be my property, my slave. Don't know the difference? Look it up, it is important for your future.
"You want childish dress up games, go find Lance the waiter. But I sense you need more than that. I know you will be back. You will kneel at my feet and offer me your collar and devotion. If you cannot, or will not give yourself completely, never approach me again."
Anya returned to her booth. I packed my cuffs back into my bag and walked unsteadily across the club to the exit. I still could not believe what had happened to me that night and took one last look over my shoulder towards Anya, checking she was for real. The glow from the screen of her mobile lit her face in the gloom of the booth. She was still watching me.
The call had been short and to the point. They always were. It was better that way, the less he and his clients knew about each other the better. Careless talk cost lives.
He had his orders now.
Serge Petrov parked his car a little way down the street from The Lair. He killed the headlights but left the engine running. It was a bitter night, and although his native Russia was far colder than England, he had become less tolerant of the cold and more accustomed to England's temperate climate.
He poured himself a hot coffee from a flask, and waited, watching the club.
The brief call from Anya had been quite clear. "The blonde girl, wearing black rubber. She is leaving the club now. Follow her. I want details. Address, employment, phone, email, personal life. Everything."
This was the sort of job he liked. They were simple if one was careful, and Anya paid well for good information.
Serge had no qualms with taking the more physical jobs which some of his clients hired him for; scaring the crap out of some poor debtor, hired muscle or beating a drugs rival to within an inch of their life. He had plenty of blood on his hands, and deaths on his conscience.
His services did not come cheap. He was good at what he did, very good indeed. His reputation in the underbelly of the city was how Anya had come to seek his services some years ago. He had worked for her several times since, and had a respect for her which not all of his clients earned, or deserved.
A woman appeared, ascending the steps to the pavement. She was alone. He studied her approvingly, her blonde hair in stark contrast to her black attire, a real beauty indeed. She stood on the pavement, the vapour of her hot breath coming in quick flumes. Her shivering arms were across her chest, and she stamped her stilettoed feet to keep the blood pumping.
Anya had contracted him to follow girls on many occasions, but this one was perhaps the most beautiful he had seen.
She was looking up and down the road, clearly waiting for someone. After a short time a black cab passed Serge's car and pulled up. This was a good start; the girl was travelling alone and taxis were easy to tail.
The cab pulled off. Serge calmly finished his coffee, and rebuilt his flask. His heart rate barely changed as he put his car into gear.
When he was happy with the distance between him and the taxi he pulled off and began the hunt.
The taxi soon arrived outside the club and I was relieved to have a comfortable seat at last, even if for a short time. My butt still burned, but the cool leather seat was thankfully soothing.
I rested my head against the window and watched the city lights whizz by as if we were travelling at warp speed. The gentle purr of the engine, and the subtle, massaging vibration against my temple was relaxing.
The evening's events had lead me to discover an esoteric community, living in the shadows of the "normal" world. Feeling contemplative, I dreamily wondered whether the people outside the window had also seen such sights as I.
It is said the eyes are the window to the soul. Would my eyes appear differently to people now? Would I carry some aura of affinity which only the enlightened would comprehend? Would we nod and smile to each other as cognisant kindred spirits?
"Are you okay Miss?" the driver asked.
My trance was broken and I saw him looking at me in the rear view mirror, his brow a little furrowed.
"I am fine, thank you." Catching my own reflection in the mirror, I looked tired and drained. The volume had dropped out of my hair, it was matted from sweating inside the club. I pulled my coat tighter around me and melted back into the seat.
My mind drifted again. I reflected on the adventures that night. I reflected on how wonderfully naughty it had felt, openly wearing rubber in public. I reflected on how exciting it had felt to be under another's control. I ruminated about the enigmatic Master Lothar and how he had taken me under his wing, for a short time at least.
But most of all Mistress Anya occupied my thoughts. How she had read me like a book, understanding my deepest desires and conflicts better than I did myself. Desires which had been buried deep, yet Anya had found and manifested them so expertly. Why had I responded so acutely to fetish, bondage, pain and sexual pleasure?
But what amazed me more than my reaction that evening, was the undeniable feeling that I wanted more, needed more.
It was like a drug. The first hit had been free. I wanted a bigger hit, but would the price be too high ...
"Ahem, we are here Miss." His eyes were upon me in the mirror again. This time they were twinkling, and at that moment I was acutely aware that the catsuit zipper was open at my crotch. Judging by the dampness on my fingers and around my puss I had been touching myself for some time. Thank God my coat was still closed around me.
If the driver hadn't already guessed what I'd been doing, my sudden embarrassed flush surely gave the game away.
After paying the fare, along with a generous shame-tip I quickly retired to my flat.
Before drawing the drapes and hitting the shower I looked out over the city. It's essence had changed, there was a different rhythm to it's heart now.
The roads were quiet at this late hour, allowing Serge to stay a good safe distance behind his quarry. He tailed the taxi for about 30 minutes until they arrived at a pleasant leafy suburb of the city.
The girl's taxi had pulled up outside a building. He parked a sensible distance away and observed. The woman exited the taxi briskly and approached one of the buildings. Flats if he was not mistaken. Flats could be a problem. More people, more eyes and ears.
Serge began to jot information down in a small notebook.
Brick building, modern, detached, composite front door with no glass panels, buzzer by the front door with 6 buttons, double glazed PVC windows, 6 tiny balconies, no fire escape ladders, modern alarm system on the outside of the building.
His methodical mind quickly processed the observations into a risk for the job. So far so good, nothing a man of his talents could not contend with.
The woman unlocked the front door with a key.
Good, no sophisticated entry system to circumvent.
When the door closed shut behind the girl he began to count under his breath, watching the building for the next clue.
1 .. 2 .. 3 ..
No sign of activity yet.
28 .. 29 .. 30 ..
A window illuminated. Top floor, left side of the building. He made a quick sketch in his book and noted that it took about thirty seconds from front door to the girl's flat. His shrewd calculations continued.
It was late. She was cold, tired, possibly intoxicated, wearing heels and an overcoat.
Experience told him that the time taken to reach the flat in her condition probably meant no extra internal security doors between the front door and her flat. He smiled.
The blonde woman appeared at the window momentarily. Even though largely silhouetted, she was a sight to behold, her rubber covered upper body and arms playfully caught what little light there was from the room behind.
And in the blink of an eye she was hidden behind the drapes. Serge pocketed his notebook. Now he could begin to track her comings and goings, her schedules and habits, her acquaintances and visitors.
When the lights finally went out in the girl's flat he drove away.
I began to visit The Lair more regularly. I was now on first name terms with Vince the doorman and he would let me in without delay, no more need for golden tickets.
Jonathan provided me with an endless supply of beautiful fetish clothing, I never had to wear the same thing twice. Theme nights were the best, and I regularly won first prize, Jonathan's fantastic tailoring made all others pale into insignificance. Policewoman, nurse, maid, cheerleader ... I won them all.
Surprisingly, I never again saw Lance at the club. He was probably under curfew at his mum's or waiting tables somewhere. Fortunately though, I had also begun to make friends in the club, and we passed the time talking, dancing and drinking.
Anya was often present, sat in her booth or strutting around like the queen. I would surreptitiously watch her from afar, in muted awe at her confidence and mystery. I was drawn to her, but I knew she was dangerous. Heeding her warning, I had decided not to approach her again. That one night had been amazing, but I was not convinced I had the fortitude to take things further. I had many offers of "play" from the club-goers but I politely declined. Anya had ruined me for others, yet she had me too scared to approach her. A tortuous paradox.
And then one evening my already crazy life took a further turn while I was stood ordering a drink at the bar. I smelled her before I saw her, the familiar sweetness of her scent washing over me. I closed my eyes and breathed her essence deep into my lungs. I dared not look round, dared not light that fuse.
I felt the flat tongue of a crop between my legs just above my knees. It brushed my inner thigh as it rose higher ... and stopped. I swallowed hard, and grabbed the side of the bar to steady my already weak knees. The barman approached me to take my order. I simply stared at him, not hearing his words. He looked over my shoulder and nodded to whomever was behind me and went to serve another patron.
The crop tapped at my inner thighs repeatedly, indicating she wanted them wider. It felt strange that Anya had approached me after she had previously put the ball firmly in my court. It was dangerous and exciting yet I remained guarded.
If I did as she was requesting would I be passively inviting her to take control? Would it be tantamount to me approaching her? I hesitated, then widened my legs a little.
When she was happy with my stance I felt the tongue of the crop disappear up under my latex mini skirt and rest against my uncovered pussy. Why had I chosen that night of all nights to go commando? I shuddered with an anticipation, and then the crop was removed.
The voice confirmed what I already knew. I turned as commanded and stared into those ice blue eyes of hers.
"H .. Hello Miss Anya"
"I see you watching me all the time, yet you keep your distance. Is there something you want to say to me?"
"Sorry Miss Anya, I didn't mean to ..."
"Don't lie to me"
Anya stared at me, unblinking, waiting in silence for me to continue. I didn't want to say anything further. She was using an interview technique I recognised, used to draw information from an interviewee which they might not ordinarily offer in an attempt to fill an awkward conversational void. I should have been stronger, yet felt compelled to continue, digging my hole a little deeper each time I spoke.
"I .. Umm .. that is .. I guess I just wanted to say hi."
"Hello. Anything else?"
I was burning up, like a bug under a magnifying glass on a hot summers day. She was coaxing the question out of me, the question I knew I should not ask"
She showed me the tongue of the crop. It was wet with my pussy juices. She brought it close to my face and I could smell myself on the leather. My thoughts drifted to the hedonistic night in the club when our paths had first crossed. I knew Anya was the only way I could properly explore my desires, and I knew that it was the final call for the elevator to her world. The doors were closing ... it was my last opportunity .. I had to act .. Quickly .. Before it was too late ..
"Please, Miss Anya, I want to be with you."
The doors paused half closed, daring me to squeeze between them. A grin formed at the edge of her perfect mouth.
"Tell me you want to be mine. Tell me you give yourself to me"
"I do Miss Anya. I want to be your submissive"
"No. Tell me you want to be my slave"
I paused. I was so close, I just had to say the words and then I would be free from doubt.
"Yes Miss Anya, I really do want to be your slave."
And with that admission Anya's face brightened into a full smile, so beautiful and almost ... warm.
"Very well Danielle. I accept. You will hear from me." Anya turned towards the exit.
"Wait! How did you know my name is Danielle?"
"I told you I make it my business to find out what I want to know."
And with that she left the room, leaving me alone with the feeling that the gears of some great unseen mechanism had just been set in motion.
It was several days until I had any further contact with Anya.
At 10am a package arrived for me at the office, delivered by courier. It was plainly wrapped and hand written in beautiful script. Inside was a box containing a mobile phone - a black Samsung smart phone. Also in the box was a piece of paper with a four digit number written on it. Putting two and two together I used the numbers as the pass-code to the phone. The code worked and I was in.
The phone beeped and a notification told me a WhatsApp message had arrived. The message read:
I will contact you via this phone. Keep it with you always.
I typed a reply, a simple "Hello"
Almost immediately there was a response.
Commands will be provided via this phone. You must follow them explicitly. Failure to do so will bring an end to our arrangement. You must prove you are worthy of my time. Now, using the phone take a video of your office and send it to me.
Why did she want to see my office? Caution made me pause.
Another message arrived ... NOW!
I filmed a quick pan of the office and sent the video to Anya. I heard nothing further for the rest of the day. In the evening I sent a simple "Hello?" message .. But still no reply was forthcoming. Clearly the communications would be uni-directional until she required something of me. I carried the new phone with me wherever I went in case Anya would try and contact me, I didn't want to risk missing her calls.
After a couple of frustratingly silent days I received another package at work. It was 10am, almost the same time as the last delivery. The courier was an imposing guy who looked like he would not be out of place in a boxing ring. He wore no discernible uniform or insignia, presumably an independent courier.
The receptionist, Jess, summoned me to the front desk to sign for the package.
"From Mistress Anya" he said as he passed me the item, which was much larger than the first. I cringed and hunched my shoulders at the volume of his voice, I sensed a couple of heads turn in my direction. Had they heard the term "Mistress" being used? His indiscretion was alarming.
A message arrived on the new mobile.
BEEP BEEP : Take the unopened package to the restroom. Reply when you are there.
I smiled thinly at our receptionist. She was eyeing the package, clearly hoping I would be opening the unorthodox delivery in front of her. I made my excuses, clutched the package to my bosom and made it to the restroom without drawing any further attention to myself.
BEEP BEEP : Turn the phone to video call and put on the item while stood in front of the phone.
I felt so nervous, and naughty. I balanced the phone on the sink in the cubicle, dropped the lids on the toilet and sat while I opened the curious package. Inside was a pair of rubber dildo panties. I toyed with the garment in my hands. The craftsmanship was definitely not up to Jonathan's standards, but it excited me nonetheless. The phallus itself was a good 6 inches long.
"Put them on, Phoenix" Anya's voice chilled me. She was not visible on the screen, but evidently she could see me. I turned her voice down to a whisper for fear of someone coming in and hearing my kinky antics.
"Yes Miss" I whispered and removed my charcoal skirt and simple rubber panties.
I slipped into the dildo pants and sighed as I gently eased the rubber cock into my pussy. I was already slick and it slid in easily.
"You will keep these on all day until you get home. Understand?"
The pants proved very distracting and I constantly had to adjust my seated position to distribute the pressure. The intruder caused me to walk a little stiffly around the office, it was particularly awkward when I sat in my manager's office for an hour's discussion on the Patterson case.
By the time I got home that evening the pants had driven me to a high state of arousal.
BEEP BEEP : Have the pants made you horny?
Yes Miss. I love them.
BEEP BEEP : Accept the video call, and show me you removing the pants. Do it slowly and frig yourself until yourself cum.
I did as instructed, slipping the rubber dildo from my sopping hole in slow motion glory, the glistening shaft seemed to go on forever as it exited my pussy leaving me feeling empty and unloved. And all the while I unashamedly rubbed my clit to orgasm while the phone broadcast what her dirty little slave was doing in full Technicolour Anya-vision.
The very next day, before I had dressed for work, I received another message from Anya.
BEEP BEEP : You will wear your latex catsuit under your work clothes today. The catsuit you wore to Surrender the night we met.
The feeling of being ordered how to dress was a real turn on. There was no way I could wear a skirt suit, my latex covered legs would be exposed and would undoubtedly draw unwanted attention. Luckily I still had a trouser suit in my wardrobe, one of the steadily diminishing collection of items which had not been crafted into a rubber garment by Jonathan. I found a white cotton blouse which had a bit of a prominent collar which just obscured the neck of the catsuit once buttoned to the top.
The obvious complication was my hands. The catsuit's integral gloves were rather conspicuous. I masked them with a pair of white cotton gloves. When colleagues asked about the gloves I lied that my eczema had flared up. This seemed to throw them off the scent, although one particularly observant colleague asked why I had never mentioned eczema before. And so began my little white lies at work to cover my naughty activities. My mum always said that if you were honest you didn't need a good memory ... I had a feeling I was going to need a memory of Mensa proportions.
Several times throughout the day Anya would demand a photo to prove that I still wore the catsuit.
My colleague and friend Marianna sat at the desk opposite mine. "Dani, those are very unusual socks you are wearing"
"What do you mean?" I asked, suddenly self conscious
"They look shiny. I've not seen anything like that before"
I looked down and my trousers had risen a little while my legs were crossed, revealing some of my rubber skin. I had to think quick.
"Umm, yes they are a little unusual aren't they."
"What material is that?"
"They are ... support socks ... made from a compression material ... I, umm overdid it at the gym last night" I lied. Oh lord another little white lie I needed to keep track of.
Throughout the day I constantly felt on the cusp of being discovered for the kinky freak I was. Paranoid thoughts tormented me as I feared all eyes were upon me, watching me, sensing something was different. Did the suit smell? I had become accustomed to it and rarely caught any odour. Regularly I would mist body spray over my clothes just in case.
Many times the phone would command me to go the restroom where Anya would demand photo or video evidence of me wearing the catsuit.
For the next couple of days I heard nothing more from Anya. Jonathan and I talked at length about the new situation. He listened while I talked myself through it all. The control was super exciting and fun. Jonathan asked whether I was comfortable with how my life was going. I replied positively, relishing the devilry, fun, danger, and horniness of it all.
Anya continued to dictate the kinky attire to be worn under my respectable work suits for the next few days. Sometimes I would get off lightly with just latex stockings. Sometimes she would make me wear a catsuit or just a simple rubber brief and bra. Sometimes she would also get me to wear the panties too. And all the time she would test my obedience with an impromptu demand for a photo or video. On one occasion she even demanded I video up my skirt while still sat at my desk so she could see the rubber stockings I was wearing and my exposed, uncovered pussy. Doing so while not alerting Marianna to my actions was particularly tricky, and titillating.
To my surprise it was starting to feel "normal" to wear kinky rubber at work. And because of my penchant for wearing rubber at home I was essentially wearing rubber all day, every day. One unusual day there was no instruction from Anya and I took the opportunity to wear a simple skirt suit, lacy underwear and black tights. The strangest thing was that I felt almost under dressed, like I should be wearing tight shiny rubber.
My life became an Anya-controlled routine. When I woke I looked forward to her contact, excited to find out what I would be wearing that day. In the evening I indulged myself with other items from my growing collection.
The status quo was broken one morning when the courier delivered yet another package, again at 10am precisely. The receptionist was taking a keen interest in the packages, probing me for information. The latest package was about the size of a shoe box, and had some weight to it.
As I headed for the toilets I saw Jess leave her desk and follow me. I darted into a cubicle, set up the phone and turned it to video phone as instructed. The sound of the restroom door opening caused me to freeze.
"Open the package"
High heels clicked slowly on the tiled bathroom floor
"Quieter please Miss, there is someone else in the restroom" I whispered.
"Remove your panties". Her voice was no quieter and I had to quickly turn the volume down as far as possible.
I cringed in fear as I pulled the phallus from my pussy with a gentle plop and put the garment on the floor. I had not heard a cubicle door shut since the person, presumably Jess, had entered the restroom. Was she outside my cubicle, listening?
Within the box was another pair of dildo panties. The pant part of it was the same as the ones I had just discarded. However the new one had a much bigger integrated dildo. It was at least 2 inches longer and the shaft was fatter, and heavier.
"Put them on and sit down again"
Whilst stood I took the opportunity to listen at the cubicle door. Silence. Nothing to suggest anyone else was out there. Had I imagined it perhaps. I slipped the new pants on, feeding the huge dick into my pussy. It certainly made me feel fuller than before. Carelessly I fumbled while pulling the rubber up my hips and it made the distinctive snapping popping sounds that rubber does when snicked.
There! I was sure I heard the click of a heel as the person beyond the door adjusted their position in response to the sound. I sat down carefully, straining to hear.
"Like them?" Anya asked
"These are special, and will remind you that you are my slave."
"How so Miss?"
To my complete shock, the dildo started to vibrate within me. Because the base of the intruder was lightly resting on the toilet lid it made a rather loud and distinctive noise as it vibrated against the plastic seat. I leapt to my feet in horror to stop the noise, legs wide apart, arms bracing the wall deadening as much of the vibe noise as possible.
And then I heard rapid heeled footsteps and the restroom door opening and closing.
"Shit" I said through gritted teeth. The vibrations in my puss ceased.
"I think the receptionist heard Miss!"
"Don't they already know what a dirty little kinky slut you are?" Anya laughed. "When I think you need reminding of your status your internal friend will let you know. I can control it via the phone, any time, anywhere. Put the old pants into your desk drawer and keep them there."
The seriousness of the predicament was not lost on me as I redressed. Anya gave me another couple of quick vibrations before I left the restroom to reinforce her point. I exited the bathroom sheepishly and glanced at the receptionist on the way to my desk. She was trying her hardest to not look at me, but her eyes were flicking between her computer screen and me. I blushed a deep crimson.
Before I made it to my desk Anya gave me a particularly strong vibe which almost caused my knees to buckle. I only just managed to maintain my poise and dignity by grabbing the photocopier and pretending to look for some papers. The damn receptionist was still watching me. She had to know I was up to something.
I stowed the old pants in my desk drawer and buried them under papers and anything else I could find. The drawer did not lock, obfuscation was the only option I had.
Anya frequently made the vibe give short gentle caresses in my pussy. It felt very nice. It felt very dangerous.
At Anya's behest I wore the new pants to work every day, and she would fire up the little bugger frequently, always taking me by surprise. Usually the teasing was gentle and short lived, keeping me almost permanently wet and horny, and by the time I got home in the evening I was always more than ready to masturbate myself to orgasm, releasing the pent up tension while she watched me debase myself for her in front of the phone's camera.
The alarm clock woke me at 6am with it's relentless monotonous tones. I forced myself to rouse fully and awaited the daily missive from Mistress Anya. Her texts were now well part of my daily routine, and I actually looked forward to receiving them, setting the tone for the day ahead.
That morning the message from Anya instructed me to wear my rubber peephole bra, rubber stockings and of course the vibrating dildo panties which she insisted I wear every day. She also demanded that I wear my dark grey business suit. It made hiding the stockings a little tricky but I managed to do so with a beautiful pair of sensible heeled leather knee boots.
At 10am the courier delivered an envelope and a small package no bigger than a box of matches to the office. A subsequent text from Anya told me not to open the envelope or package until instructed, and that I must take it to an address at 9pm precisely that evening. Once there, I was to ask for Karl.
Anya was more playful than usual with the vibrator throughout the day, and chose longer periods of gentle, massaging vibes instead of strong attention grabbing episodes. The net effect was to keep me very aroused and horny indeed. Somehow she managed to prevent me cumming by turning the dildo off with frustratingly precise timing.
Because of impending evening appointment I worked late in the office. Unfortunately this meant I was unable to release my pent up horniness which I had been accustomed to doing once safely back home. I was hornier than ever when I left the office at 8pm for the secretive rendezvous.
At a little before 9pm I was stood across the road from the address I had been given. "Black Rose Tattoo Studio" was the name of the establishment. The shadows hid my identity in their dark obscurity while I watched the studio, steeling myself. The street was almost deserted, businesses had long since closed for the day leaving the area to the creatures of the night.
When chance finally offered me a deserted street I dashed across the road and into the studio. I sat and waited nervously in the small reception for Karl. The buzz of a tattoo gun droned from behind a curtain to the back of the shop. Like the dentist's drill the buzz of the tattoo gun did nothing to calm my nerves.
Being there was probably a bad idea. It seemed Anya intended to mark me, a tattoo to brand me as hers perhaps. We had never even discussed such a thing. Fetish wear was second nature to me now, but getting permanently marked was a huge step. I probably should have left the studio, but the continual tease of my vibe had my common sense subdued by hyper-arousal and irrational thought processes. She had it set to a very subtle vibe as if distracting me from running.
I sat in a comfy armchair and leafed through a book of designs. Some were true works of art, while others beggared belief as to why one would want them permanently etched into their skin. Skulls, roses, naked amazons, tribal markings, genitalia. You name it, it was in the book ready to be cut into virgin flesh. I paused over one particular design, a photo of the nape of a woman's neck, her long hair pulled to one side to expose the tattoo. It was a single word in solid black script ... "SLAVE". Underneath was a bar code.
"You want this?"
I jumped out my skin as the hitherto unseen man asked me the question.
"This? No!! Oh my God, no"
"Ok. So, what you want? Flower? Pretty butterfly?"
The man had a very abrupt manner, and his voice had the familiar lilt of Anya's own accent. I estimated him to be in his 20s, his thick black birds nest hair needed a good wash and cut. Both his arms were covered in tattoos, from his wrists to underneath the sleeves of his black Iron Maiden tee.
"Mistress Anya told me to come here. She told me to ask for Karl." I passed him the envelope which he opened and read a note within. He frowned, looked at me and scratched his head.
"You really want this?" he looked at me with some doubt. "I think you make a mistake, yes?"
"What does the note say?"
"You will find out soon enough. You agree to this?" he waved the note expressively.
I knew I had to curb my self destruction, but deep down in my heart I knew I wanted to go as deep into Anya's forbidden world as I dare. But was this too far? Fetish clothing and parties were one thing, but a visit to a tattoo parlour could be a stupid, and life changing idea. One thing was clear though, I was getting off on the danger of it all. And the damn dildo was making me hotter and hotter.
"Yes, I want this"
The young man whistled gently as if impressed with my bravado. He had me fill in a consent form, and when the formalities were done he motioned me towards the curtain at the back of the shop.
"What design of tattoo is it going to be?" I asked, praying it was not bar codes or anything which could cause me problems at work.
"What do you mean, no tattoo?"
"No tattoo. Rings."
I halted at the curtain. "What do you mean, rings?"
"Rings, steel rings ... pierce. Yes? This is what is said in the letter."
"What?? I assumed it was a going to be a simple tattoo"
He laughed and nudged me gently, yet firmly through the curtain.
The room beyond the curtain was well lit. Rock music was playing in the background. To the left of the room was a padded bench, like a masseuse table. Instead he motioned me right towards a chair while he took my handbag and placed it on the side.
"You have the box?"
I fished the package out of my bag and handed it to him. He unwrapped it and opened the small case inside. "Nice" he said.
"Please, remove your blouse and bra, and sit in the chair."
It was all moving so fast I was caught up in the moment. Common sense had abandoned me and I did as he asked and settled back into the chair taking deep calming breaths.
My nipples were hard with the cool air and excitement. The dildo sound was more evident now it rested against the leather of the chair. Karl's eyes lingered on my full pert breasts, he clearly liked what he saw.
He tipped some metal items into his hand from the box. "Anya has provided for the procedure and rings for you. Nothing to pay. You are one of her slaves, right?"
"Not yet. She is testing me. Perhaps soon." I said nervously.
Karl examined the items closely and chuckled. "Right, right, quite soon I think.".
After the anaesthetic wipe he worked quickly and efficiently in piercing my nipples at the base and installing the surprisingly substantial shiny metal jewellery.
I squealed as each was pierced, the anaesthetic not fully numbing the pain. The metal adornments felt cold and heavy against my hot breasts.
I played with the rings with my fingers. They were indeed beautiful, but very sore.
"Ok. Skirt and knickers off."
"We are not finished. Quick, I want to close studio."
"I don't want anything down there"
"You signed. No finished yet. Come. Quick."
I don't know why I let him continue. Adrenaline, excitement, danger ... stupidity. I ashamedly removed the dildo pants with a plopping noise. Karl stared at me, grinned and scratched his birds nest is disbelief. He placed a towel under my ass to stop my juices running onto the chair all the while muttering something to himself under his breath.
He adjusted the chair so that my legs were in stirrups, held obscenely wide. From my position I could see only his crazy hair as he worked between my thighs, an odd sensation to have a stranger at your most personal area.
He again used the anaesthetic wipes on my already sopping pussy region. "You like getting pierced, yes?" He showed me the wipe, and I flushed a deep crimson as I saw what he was talking about, my vaginal juices clearly evident. "You are her pain slut maybe?"
"No! Fuck, why would you say that?"
"Hey, I'm not judging. We can put as much metal in you as you want. Sign the consent, everyone happy."
"Just get on with it will you!" I didn't want all the chat. I was there for one purpose and then I wanted out, to skulk back into the shadows.
The pain as my clitty was pierced was like nothing I had felt before, white hot fire. If it had not been for the stirrups I would have crushed his head between my thighs in an instant.
"All done" I looked at my reddened clit in the his mirror. No wonder it was painful, it was again a more prominent ring than I was expecting.
I examined all three rings closely. "How do I take them out? I can't see the join?"
"Not come out. They are, how you say, fixed ... permanent."
Literally speechless, I had never considered they would be permanent.
Anya had really overstepped a boundary. The time we had spent so far was always able to be undone, and packed away neatly when returning to my real life. Locks could be unlocked. Clothing could be removed. Bruises would heal. Humiliation overcome in time. Normality reinstated.
But the ring piercings were Anya becoming a permanent part of me. More permanent than I could possibly imagine.
Anya had been delighted I had consented to the piercings. When I pressed her about the permanency, she would merely comment that it was part of my tests.
Thankfully for the next few days she allowed me to wear my rubber peephole bra and crotchless panties while the piercings healed. It was nice to spend some time without a tormenting dildo in my pussy, although it might have been a nice distraction from the ache of my healing nips and clit. The nipple rings were almost visible through my thin work blouses and I had to buy some thicker ones to hide my little secrets.
Anya demanded photos of my rings every day and she was happy with how they were healing. She would have me flick, twist and pull them for her while she watched via the phone.
Once fully healed the rings actually felt wonderful when played with. My clit piercing though could only take a small amount of attention before becoming uncomfortable, but when done right my clit was like a fuse bringing my whole pussy to life.
It was a Wednesday, and we had an important meeting with Mr Patterson's team. I had pulled an all nighter to get the case notes and plan ready for the presentation. The trial was nearly upon us and we had to make sure everything was perfect.
The time was 9.55, the meeting was scheduled to begin at 10.30. Patterson's team were already in the boardroom having discussions with our senior management. I was nervous, it was a big day for both the company and myself. My work would be scrutinised and judged closely, my career could be launched or crippled in the next couple of hours.
"Dani?" our receptionist called over to me, stirring me from my focus. The courier was at the desk, my heart sank. Oh no, not today of all days.
The courier handed me a package no bigger than a jewellery box which I took to the bathroom and awaited the message from Anya which I knew would be coming. True enough, a message arrived.
I put the camera on video and opened the box. To my surprise there was a delicate silver bell inside connected to a small clip. It was the size of an earring, but there was only one.
"An earring Miss Anya? There is only one though"
"No. This is a very special item for a very special place.
"You are wearing the crotchless panties as instructed?"
"Good. Raise your skirt and show me"
I hiked my skirt and unashamedly exposed my hairless, pierced pussy to her, having become so accustomed to exposing myself to Anya upon demand.
"Good girl. Now attach the bell to your beautifully ringed clitty."
The clip was an odd mechanism and required some manual dexterity to open the catch. It slipped onto the ring easily and closed with a snap. A tiny piece of metal detached and fell to the floor. Instinctively I tried to open the clip again but it would not budge!
Anya laughed. "That little bell will remain on you all day and remind you to whom you belong. When you get home this evening you may cut it off. But only then. Do you understand?"
"Yes Miss. But I have an extremely important meeting today, this is not a good time for this!"
"It is a good time for me, and that is the only thing that should be important to you! Understand?"
"Yes Miss" I pouted
"Good. Tonight you will send me a video while you cut the bell off. Enjoy your day."
The time was 10.20. I checked my appearance and left the cubicle. The bell was not heavy but it's little movements made the ring tug at my clitty. It felt oddly nice and from time to time I would feel a delicious little tingle in my special places. It was kind of exciting to wear the item, one of Anya's nicer gifts. But before long, to my horror I realised that the bell made a delicate tinkling noise as I walked! I froze, petrified.
I experimented with shaking my hips and again the little bell gave a musical accompaniment. After some experimentation I found that I could just about stop the bell's noise if I clamped my thighs together, the downside of which was that it made it difficult to walk normally. Damn her little gift, it could ruin the day!
At 10.25 I left the bathroom and hobbled awkwardly to my desk under the ever curious gaze of Jess the receptionist. Could she hear the bell? I was pressing my handbag to my groin in a semi-successful attempt to dull the sound.
I gathered my laptop and headed for the boardroom. My boss, Gordon was at the door beckoning me to get a move on, and gave me an odd look as I walked with an unusual lilt.
"Do you need the toilet Miss Nystrom?"
"No Gordon, I'm OK"
"Ok. Setup your laptop at the head of the table, we'll begin in a couple of minutes."
I made it to the head of the table by cleverly shuffling to each person in turn and introducing myself. This allowed me to keep the devilish little bell under control while I made my way slowly around the table. However, that damn bell tinkled subtly as I sat. I searched the faces of the room for a clue that they had heard, but it seemed I had escaped detection. I felt hot and clammy, at any moment I ran the risk of being discovered wearing the naughty jewellery. I was trapped in the room for a good couple of hours, it was going to be a very stressful time, on all counts.
The meeting progressed well. Patterson and his team were very happy with the work we had done. However, just when I thought I had survived unscathed Gordon interceded.
"Miss Nystrom. Would you please draw out the remaining process on the white-board for Mr Patterson and his team?"
My heart almost stopped. Using the white-board would require me to stand and move. It would be hard to suppress the bell.
"I'm not sure I can sir." I tried to squirm out of the task.
"Nonsense. Don't be shy. You have worked extremely hard on it, don't be so modest."
"Indeed, I am very much looking forward to seeing your plan" chirped Mr Patterson. The room was full of smiling, expectant faces. There was no way I would be able to avoid going through with it.
I stood gingerly and took delicate steps towards the board. Every now and then the bell would escape from between my muffling thighs and tinkle gently. It took an age to get to the white-board.
"Right, off you go Miss Nystrom please"
Carefully I drew out my plans for the remainder of the case preparation. I had spent countless hours on the concept and in truth I relished drawing out my brain child for the gathered audience. The diagram filled the whole board to each of it's four corners. I presented my magnum opus with the flourish of an artist and oratory skills of a politician.
"What is that noise?" A female's curious voice behind me asked.
"Yes, I hear it too. Does someone have an alarm on? It is quite distracting from Miss Nystrom's presentation" came a male's voice.
In my rapture with the presentation I had forgot to control the bell between my legs. I became as a statue. Such an idiot to have lost control.
"Hmm. It's stopped. Thats better, please continue" the female voice encouraged.
The diagram had now spread to the top end of the white-board and I had to tiptoe a little to reach. It was impossible to control the bell like that and it would delicately chime despite my best efforts. And now the constant pulling on my clit ring was starting to stir feelings within me .. Inappropriate feelings! I had to freeze and bite my lip a couple of times to stifle a little whimper.
"There's that sound again. Really, this is very rude. Who is making that noise?"
The guests all looked at each other, and naturally no-one owned up to being the culprit. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. If I was discovered to be wearing a little bell attached to my freshly pierced clitoris I would be in a world of trouble, and my career would certainly grind to a halt. Yet, somehow I managed to complete my presentation to a round of a applause and congratulations. The Patterson team left the office very pleased indeed.
After a review session we left the boardroom and returned to our desks.
"Wait." Said Gordon. "There is that sound again. Miss Nystrom, is that you making the noise, what on earth is it?"
This was it. This was the moment when the shit would hit the fan. I paused, stuttered, desperately trying to think a way out of the situation. My hand had absently drifted to my jacket pocket and felt a bracelet which I had left there the other day. I bounced it in my hand and to my joy it make a metallic sound.
"Oh Gordon. I'm sorry, it looks like it was me after all! Look, there was a bracelet rattling in my pocket."
"Luckily for you Danielle the presentation went well enough despite the annoying noises. Please be more careful in future."
"Yes Gordon, sorry."
I jangled the bracelet to mask the sound of the bell as I headed back to my desk.
"Oh, and Danielle"
"Great work today!"
For the rest of the day I made sure I spent as much time as possible at my desk. Thankfully Anya did not order me to make any further visits to the bathroom. Even the commute home was stress free, the hustle and bustle of life easily drowned out my musical accompaniment.
To celebrate the successful meeting I met Mum for dinner at an Italian restaurant in the city called Bella Italiano. The greeter showed us to our table, and we ordered a bottle of wine while we perused the menu.
"Your waiter will be with you shortly"
The food on the other tables looked fantastic and intoxicating aromas filled the room.
Mum and I caught up on recent events. Naturally I was very careful what I told her about my recent activities. If she knew half of what I'd been up to she would surely have a heart attack. I limited my anecdotes to work, gym, friends and other safe topics.
While we talked my attention was grabbed by a fleeting moment of recognition. Across the restaurant, talking to the greeter, was a tall man who suddenly became very familiar to me ... Lance!
Panicking I stuttered mid sentence. Even when Anya was not around, my shady second life had a nasty habit of catching up with me. What were the chances of seeing someone I knew in the thousands that lived and worked in the city. How could I detach myself from my kinky life when it kept encroaching on my normal life, sending it's whistle-blowing agents to tear down my facade of decency.
The greeter was pointing at our table. At any moment he would look over and see me, see his little kinky plaything from the club. He'd come over and my secret would be out in the most public way. My mother would listen as my secrets spilled out, learning what a freak her perfect daughter had become.
Thinking quickly I spilt a little wine on my lap trying my best to make it look like an accident.
"Oh damn" I acted "Sorry Mum, excuse me a minute, I need to clean up"
I rushed to the bathroom, looking in the opposite direction to where Lance was stood, shielding my profile with my hand.
Struggling to stem welling tears I burst through the door of the ladies bathroom. Thankfully the room was empty and I dived into the first stall. Quickly dropping my skirt and rubber knickers I was glad for the moment to sit and re-assess my situation.
I didn't like that my normal life was in almost constant jeopardy. Would I have to look over my shoulder for the rest of my life? My paranoia kicked in once more. Who else out there knew me. So many people had seen me in The Lair and Surrender ... would I have to remember their faces so I could avoid them all? What if any of them knew Mum somehow? Or knew people I worked with. I had not fully considered what impact frequenting such places could have on my life.
Lance was out there in the restaurant. Mum would have told him we were ready to order, and he would be drawn to the table on my return. The walls were closing in on me, it was hard to breathe. I felt like a cornered animal. What a mess.
The restroom door hinges squeaked and someone entered the room. I stiffened and prayed that it was not Lance come to find me. There was the sound of a running tap and then the person left the room.
My body relaxed and I began to pee.
The sound of my stream hitting the metal pan seemed embarrassingly loud in the now empty restroom.
While my bladder emptied it occurred to me that something was wrong with the sound. It was clearly metallic, yet the toilet pans were ceramic. In the pit of my stomach I knew something was amiss.
Leaping up, I pulled up my rubber panties and skirt and looked down into the pan; and screamed. In the ceramic pan was a black rubber hooded head. A rubber panel covered the eyes and a second rubber panel covered the mouth, each secured by small buckles. But attached to the mouth panel was a metal funnel !! I heard a subtle mewing and gurgling as the last of my urine drained from the funnel into the mouth beneath.
"Jesus!" I baulked, stumbled and clawed at the lock on the stall door, but it would not budge.
The gurgling had stopped now. This had to be another hallucination, it was a physical impossibility for a person to be inside the toilet. Bolstered by my reasoning I looked back at the head. It's breath was whistling through the now empty funnel.
Unable to escape the stall, and with trembling hands, I carefully undid the buckles on the mouth piece and withdrew it along with the funnel. The stem of the funnel was surprisingly long and would have reached to the very back of the throat. With the mouth panel removed, I could see that it was a female inside the hood with the full lips and smooth complexion of a young woman.
"Help me. Please help me" she pleaded
"You're not real! Get out of my head!" I screamed, holding my temples.
A dribble of yellowy liquid bubbled from the corner of the girl's mouth. "Please help me" she gurgled
With tears of horror and pity I asked "How can I help you? I can't even see ninety percent of you, you're just a head!"
"Get me out of this hell, please don't let me go .. quickly before it is too late and I am lost forever!"
I watched and listened to the terrified head. Her pleas for help were becoming more and more distressed as if some terrible deadline was approaching. She was clearly distraught and desperate to escape some heinous fate.
The only thing available to leverage her by was the hood. I found some purchase under the neck piece and attempted to pull. Once the initial stretch the latex reached its elastic limit I could feel the resistance of the girls head. This was the only option available to me ... but as I pulled the hood ripped and peeled away from her head.
With her face now revealed, I stared in abject terror. I was looking at my own face. The woman was totally bald but I recognised myself without any doubt.
Suddenly there was a bubbling sound from the toilet, and a thick black liquid bubbled up from around her neck.
"Oh God, help me! Please help me !" she screamed, "I want out!!"
After flooding her open, screaming mouth, the liquid quickly rose and enveloped her whole head. Odd shapes were moving within the liquid. They looked almost claw-like, caressing and gripping her hairless head. When the liquid finally receded it took the claws and the girl with it ... flushed somewhere unspeakable ... leaving no evidence of her existence.
I thought of her words and the way she was drawn down into the inky blackness. Was the hallucination my mind's way of warning me to get out while I still could? I thought about how I was descending deeper into Anya's bizarre world, and if there would come a point of no return where it would be impossible to extricate myself. I shuddered as reality returned.
The stall lock was easily opened now and I fled the restroom. I looked at no one except Mum during my flight to safety. Before leaving the restaurant I gave her a kiss and lied that I'd received an urgent call from work and would have to cancel our dinner date.
I had reached a new low point in my life, lying to loved ones to cover my peccadilloes ... I hated myself more than ever at that moment.
It was another couple of days until I heard from Anya again. But this time her minion was not the courier, but Mel from Surrender. She came to the office dressed very conservatively and business like, not a hint of her kinky side was evident. She had come under the pretence of delivering some information for a case I was working on. The receptionist pointed her in my direction and she elegantly glided over while the office Meerkats did little to disguise their admiration of her beauty, so pathetic.
"Hi Mel. What are you doing here"
"I've brought something from Mistress Anya for you"
"Shhhh, keep your voice down".
Melanie handed me a brown envelope. I could tell there was paperwork inside, and went to open it.
"No" Mel interrupted, touching my hand and smiling "This is for your tailor. She wants him or her to make the items to her designs. Money is no object. You are to accompany Mistress Anya to a party, and this will be your outfit."
"I'm not sure he would do this without my knowledge of what is inside"
"Those are Mistress Anya's instructions Dani"
I thought for a moment. It would be exciting to see what Anya had designed especially for me. But also risky given Anya's dark secrets ..
"Ok, Mel. I'll ask him"
When I got home that evening I called upon Jonathan and explained about the envelope.
"Of course I will make the items if I can. If you wish me to.
"I'm a bit nervous" I almost wanted Jonathan to say no, to take the choice away from me.
"Ok, lets do it"
I put the envelope in the trunk and closed the lid. There was a pause as if he were examining the instructions.
"Very well. I will need plenty of fabric and also some metal"
"Metal? My god what has she designed?"
"I cannot tell you that Dani, it is explicit in the instructions"
"Oh very well" I gathered some clothing I could find, I even put in some of my older, plainer rubber gear. I also manged to find some cutlery which I never used and put the whole lot into the trunk.
"This will take a day or two to finish"
After a couple of nervous days had passed Jonathan announced that the items were ready. He asked for plenty of cardboard so that he could package them as per the instructions.
The resulting pile of boxes was astounding. As per the instructions I messaged Anya that the order was complete.
The response was almost instant.
"Bring the packages to The Lair at 12 noon on Saturday. Do not be late"
And so it was that the taxi pulled up outside The Lair at 12pm on a cloudy Saturday afternoon. The packages were carried into the club by a couple of staff and I followed cautiously behind, through the empty club and into a side room.
The first thing I noticed upon entering the room was the stack of boxes on the floor. The only other features in the room were a full-length, wall mounted mirror and a large red comfy sofa. A peculiar bar hung trapeze-like from the ceiling, swinging barely perceptibly in the draught from the open door behind me.
"There you are, party girl!" came a soft woman's voice behind me. It was Melanie wearing tight ripped jeans and a white cotton vest top, the plunging neckline and gaping sides did nothing to mask her ample bosom.
She checked all the packages. "Sorry, I need to make sure you have been honest and not tampered with them" she explained. "All seems to be in order. Are you sure you want to go through with this? Mistress Anya's friends and parties can be pretty wild". She looked concerned.
Mel quickly picked up on my hesitation. "It's not too late to back out you know. I have instructions that, once this process starts, I am not permitted to stop."
"No. I'll do this. I've come this far."
Mel shrugged, "Strip fully please Dani"
I disrobed while Mel silently read a document laid on top of the packages. The colour visibly drained from her face.
"Dani, seriously, please reconsider ..."
"No. I want to do this." I interrupted more abruptly than intended.
She raised her hands in mock surrender, "Okay, okay"
With a sigh she took the first package, untied the ribbon and opened it. The contents were beautifully wrapped in tissue paper as if it had come from a classy boutique. Jonathan's attention to detail was clearly evident.
"Oh, I didn't realise you were pierced. They look new?"
"They've just healed actually. Anya arranged for them." Mel visibly cringed as I mentioned Anya's name without giving her full title of Mistress.
"The Mistress did this to you? Getting in pretty deep aren't you"
"It's only piercings, although the one in my clitoris hurt bad. I could have said no, but got carried away. Seemed so naughty!" I giggled. "I like them, don't you? You are pierced too, was it also by Anya?"
"Yes she did, but you must remember that she does nothing by accident. The rings mark her property, Dani. I am hers. Are you really so naive?" Mel placed a finger under one of my nipple rings and tilted it up. "Yes, see, these rings bear her mark. I looked closer and there was indeed a tiny mark on the underside of the ring, like a silver sterling mark.
"I didn't even think!"
Mel glanced over my shoulder towards the doorway and nodded some acknowledgement. I followed her gaze, but saw nobody. The door, however, was now closed, there was the distinctive sound of the door being locked from the other side.
"Well, no second thoughts now, let's begin."
I was somewhat surprised when the item she handed me was a body stocking, rather than something rubbery I had assumed it would be. A dark honey colour, it felt light and delicate.
"A lingerie party?" I asked
Entry was through the neck, and once I'd effortlessly slipped into it I discovered openings around my breasts and crotch. Clearly the party was not going to be PG. The nylon was of the finest weave, and highlighted the landmarks of my body beautifully, creating delicious highlights and shadows as it stretched to accommodate my shape. The material warmed quickly as my hands glided over my body. It was almost silk-like and so comfortable that I hardly knew I was wearing it.
"How is that even possible?" Mel asked
"There are no seams. Not one, yet it fits you so perfectly"
I hadn't noticed until then, but my reflection attested. No seams, not even hidden round the back. I had to admit I looked amazing.
"Did your tailor friend make all these items? I don't recognise the packaging, or motifs." She handed me a black leather tag which had been threaded onto the package ribbon. Pressed into it was the design I had first found in the lid of the trunk, the Phoenix. I nodded, feeling very special indeed.
"I'm sure Mistress Anya would love to meet him"
"Oh, she has asked. But I told her that he only deals with me. I don't think she was too happy about that ..."
"Be very careful Dani, however loud you think her bark is, her bite is WAY worse. Don't try and play her, it will not end well for you."
Mel checked her notes and opened another package from the pile.
This contained a pair of black latex stockings. The material was a little thicker than Jonathan's usual fare, which I knew was no accident, Anya upping the ante. They slid easily up my nylon legs, finishing a little below the tops of my thighs, holding my legs in a firm, yet yielding embrace. I experimented with bending my knees, and rather than the tops pulling down the material stretched perfectly, remaining wrinkle-free. At the tops of the stockings, where suspenders would normally attach were four small steel grommets.
The third package was a little larger. This one contained a black latex leotard. Like the stockings, it was already shiny, straight out of the packaging. Mel turned the material in her hands, almost with a look of envy. I stepped into the high neck and pulled the garment effortlessly up my body. The leg holes were cut lower than I would have chosen, curving beneath my hips to a full ass coverage. It was an armless design which covered my torso, from pubis to chin. As expected the fit was impeccable, as if it had been painted directly onto me. The crotch was open, but the suit's opening was a little narrower than the body stocking and masked the nylon behind it, my milky pussy contrasting strongly with the jet black rubber. The chest also had two holes to allow my breasts to poke through. The underside my soft boobs felt a little uncomfortable as if they were resting on something hard on my rib cage. I lifted a boob with one hand and with my other I found a short metal post, maybe one inch long protruding away from my body. The steel posts were securely attached to the suit. In the mirror I saw there were four more of the little posts in a line around my body.
"Doesn't even need smoothing" Mel whispered to herself
"What are these little stubs for?"
The next package was a black rubber garter belt, with four suspenders per leg. It fit tightly around my hips, blending seamlessly with the leotard. The belt also had a further set of the peculiar metal posts around its circumference. I was beginning to feel like a human porcupine! Each suspender had another of the tiny metal bars at the end, they dangled against my thighs tickling deliciously.
Butterflies were fluttering in my stomach. Getting dressed in a mystery outfit by a beautiful woman, and the promise of an adventurous party later was beginning to excite me.
Mel passed me a pair of long rubber opera gloves to wear. As black as coal throughout, they slid on with little resistance.
"You need to sit for the next items" Mel said as she pointed to the sofa.
"Shoes?" I asked eagerly, desperate to complete the outfit.
"Boots" she replied and knelt at my feet with an open package. My jaw dropped. They weren't just boots, they were the kinkiest, sexiest black leather boots I had ever seen.
She slid an open boot up my leg, and I was surprised to find that I had to flex my ankle to it's extreme in order to get my foot down into the belly of the boot. The boot held my foot in an en point position, and I understood why Anya had ordered me to cut my nails short. Mel zipped the boot all the way up the front, from ankle to knee, it's grip unyielding as it closed, compressing my pliant muscles. It felt super snug, but she was not finished yet. For the next few minutes she laced it tighter, the cord criss-crossing over the zip through many eyelets, rendering access to the the zip beneath impossible. The laces were not just for show, and using her strength she pulled them yet tighter before tying them off at the top. The laces were then covered with a leather flap, and three leather straps were buckled below the knee, mid calf and ankle.
All flex below the knee was impossible, my ankle and foot held in a sugar coated vice.
"Holy shit, could you make those any more secure?" I gasped sarcastically.
Mel smiled back and showed me her open palm. "Your wish is my command" she mocked, and proceeded to snap a little padlock onto each of the three straps.
"Where is the key?" I asked nervously
"You don't need to worry about that"
I had been expecting rubber and toys, but the introduction of padlocks, with no obvious key, had caught me off guard. I began to doubt my decision to let Jonathan fulfil Anya's concept. He was thorough and skilled, and I had given him free reign to produce an outfit of unknown design and purpose.
The second boot was fitted in the same efficient manner while I silently chastised myself for not controlling my runaway libido.
Mel helped me to my feet. Balance was difficult, but the rigidity of the boots prevented any buckling. She held my hand as I took tentative steps, occasionally grabbing me to prevent a topple. I had to admit I looked incredible. The 7 inch heeled boots forced my pelvis to tilt forward, making my ass appear prominent and accentuating the "S" of my spine.
"Am I ready?"
"Oh no Dani, we've only just begun! You need to spend some time up on those heels to get used to them. Your calves will cramp, but it will ease as your legs become accustomed to them."
While I tottered on fairy steps, Mel checked her papers again and turned a handle on the wall. She led me to the strange trapeze bar which had lowered. I fed my hands through two leather straps at the ends of the bar, and she them raised the bar again with the with the wheel, until my arms were wide and high above my head.
"Corset time" she said and fetched the contents of yet another package. "My God this is a serious model, I've never seen anything like it" she commented as she tested it's substantial looking construction. "And to think you had never even touched rubber clothing a few weeks ago."
Mel stood behind me and, reaching round, pulled a solid feeling plate onto my stomach. My heart was racing. The heavy rubber corset wrapped around my torso and with a couple of gentle tugs behind me she stepped back and regarded the loose fit. Rather than a traditional material corset that would be tightened to the body shape, Jonathan's corset already seemed to have a shape formed into it. Once tightened I could tell that it would compress my torso to an extreme of femininity. What had I done ...
She fetched an item from the package that looked like an electric toothbrush. Upon pressing a button the tool came to life with a whir. Shaking her head she muttered "This is crazy".
Stood behind me once again, there was a whirring noise and the top of the corset became a little tighter. More whirring and the corset gripped my body a little tighter, from rib cage to hips.
Before continuing Mel adjusted the garment so that the pegs from the leotard and garter belt pushed through steel grommets in the heavily boned corset. She then set about with the tool again.
Whir whir whir whir the corset cradled my hips in an armoured shell, the bottom edge of the corset curved down at front and back, flattening my abdomen and reaching almost to my ass.
Whir whir whir whir I gasped for air as my ribs compressed alarmingly
"Try to breathe from your chest rather than stomach"
The tightening paused for a while and I changed my breathing technique. Although easier, my breaths were shallow.
Whir whir whir whir, click click click click the corset finally closed to a triumphant "YES!" from Mel.
I teetered round to look in the mirror and could not believe what I saw. My body had been compressed into a Jessica Rabbit like form, an extreme exaggeration of my feminine curves.
Mel seemed almost trance like as she ran her hand up and down my sides, feeling the forced hourglass figure. She then cupped my breasts, which jutted out due to the support of the corset beneath. Without warning she pressed her lips to my nipples, kissing and licking them until they became so hard they ached. Then she kissed me deep on the lips, her tongue probing my mouth for a play partner. Her passion aroused me greatly and I tried to respond, but I was struggling for air ... fighting for air ... desperate for air ... I pulled away ..
"I can't breathe!" I gasped as the unrelenting corset made me work hard for every breath. Mel just giggled and flicked my nipple rings, before returning to the packages.
My breathing was now under control, but there was an unfortunate side effect of the corset's embrace. "I need to pee, Mel"
"That is common" she chuckled returning with small bucket and another rubber item. She held the bucket under my puss and waited. Consumed with humiliation I had no choice but to relieve myself, unable to look at her as my stream seemed to last an eternity.
Mel wiped the urine from my pussy, taking longer to do so than necessary, I had to bite my lip to stifle a moan. To my surprise, under all the restrictive tight rubber, I was horny as hell.
"Good, now we can cover that pussy until the party". She held a small panel of rubber in her hand. Many soft rubber tiny fingers covered the inside, like a scalp massager. She squeezed some gel onto the fingers and then pressed the panel onto my pussy. A zip fastened the panel to the leotard.
Instantly I felt sensations in my pussy lips as the fingers teased whenever I moved. Occasionally a finger would brush my clit and cause me to jump with electric excitement. While the fingers distracted me, further little padlocks were snapped closed round the steel posts along the top and bottom edges of the corset.
Next she pulled a triangular panel of heavy rubber through my legs. It was anchored to the back of the corset by a strap which cleaved my ass cheeks, and once it had entirely covered my pubic area, pressing those little fingers firmly onto my pussy, it was secured to the front of the corset by two straps and accompanying locks, sealing my sex away in its own delicious torment.
The bars on the end of the suspenders were fed through the grommets in the stockings and also secured with padlocks.
The padlocks were excessive, but their constant reminder of total restriction was not lost on me, and drove my arousal higher.
Next my hair was pulled into a high ponytail and tied with something to prevent it falling out.
At last I was released from the bar. I nursed the feeling back into my shoulders, while more items were unwrapped.
"Surely there is nothing else to add?"
"We are not done yet Dani. I warned you."
"Yes. Yes you did"
"Hold out your hands, palms up"
I did so, and she placed a small sponge ball in each hand.
"Squeeze the balls and make fists"
She then pulled tight thick rubber mittens over my fists, forcing them to remain clenched. The mittens were then locked in place with a rubber strap around the wrist and a padlock.
My hands becoming useless was a strong portent of total vulnerability.
My body temperature was rising with excitement, fear and layers of beautiful yet restrictive rubber. My pussy was feeling marshy with perspiration and juices teased forth by the fingers at my entrance. My brow was wet with sweat.
Mel was tugging at my ponytail now and I felt her feed it through something, quickly followed by a skin of rubber being pulled down over my head .. a mask! There were openings for my eyes, nostrils and mouth. She smoothed the hood over my chin and down my neck, tucking it into the rubber neck of the leotard.
It was a small piece of rubber compared to the rest of my garments, but that one piece did more to make me feel like an object than the others put together. It was striking to see my reflection, a generic rubber face which could have been hiding the face of any girl in the world. I wondered if Anya saw me as Dani the woman or Dani the rubber doll, another clone in a world of rubber dolls.
Of the maelstrom of mixed emotions I had battled with since meeting Anya, the question of identity troubled me like an itch. Even while exploring my alter ego Phoenix, Danielle Nystrom was still the queen of my psyche. Would people still see Danielle under the latex skin, or would Anya bury me forever under a rubber facade of obscurity. Vexatious feelings of dread and self preservation took me, but for that night at least it was too late, but once released I decided to give Anya a wider berth in future.
"Open" Mel ordered. She had a penis shaped phallus in her hand and was offering it up to my mouth.
"Please Mel, no more. You are right, I'm in too deep. Please, help me get out of this"
"I can't Dani. If I don't follow orders then it is me who will have to face her wrath. Mistress Anya has her claws into you pretty deep, I've not seen her like this over a fledgling slave before, there is no way I am getting in the middle of THAT situation"
The feeling of being trapped with no way out was making me excited too, further fuelled by the relentless fingers on my pussy. Despite everything, I was definitely turned on.
The only possible option was to go through with it. I allowed the phallus into my mouth. It was bigger than expected and kept my tongue firmly pinned underneath, distorting my attempts to speak. At the base of the dildo gag was a panel, which was big enough to completely cover my mouth from just beneath my nostrils to the bottom of my chin. Four little straps, one at each corner of the panel attached to the hood with press studs securing it firmly in place.
"Pweez Mew" I pleaded "ak ut ooop"
"What was that?" she laughed. "Oh, you want another hood? Can't get enough can you, you kinky bitch. Well it's your lucky day, I have another one here just for you."
I shook my head "Oooh oooh oooh!"
But it was futile, and another, thicker rubber hood was pulled over the first, my ponytail again being pulled through the top. This second hood was much tighter than the first and firmly compressed my head. There was a covering over my eyes now, and I was forced to look through a pattern of small holes. It was disorienting but vision through them was surprisingly tolerable. In the mirror I could make out that the new hood completely covered my head and neck. My mouth was completely hidden, and all evidence of the installed gag was fully obscured. My nose too was totally obscured save for two small steel grommets allowing me to breathe.
Without time to think, a high and thick leather collar was wrapped around my neck, covering it fully and buckled at the rear. The now all too familiar sound of padlocks ensured the collar could only be removed by the key holder.
Mel attached a leash to a ring on the front of the collar and led me around the room for a few laps. She congratulated me on my improvement with the boots.
"And now Dani, or rather, Phoenix, it's time for the finishing touch."
She held what I could just determine to be a heavy rubber dress. It was long, I guessed it would almost reach the floor once worn.
She supported me as I stepped into the open back of the dress. With some effort she managed to haul the dress up past my contorted body and over my shoulders. My mittened hands squeezed down the tight sleeves which were loose at the ends. The sleeves were zipped closed and a further leather cuff wrapped wound each wrist and above each elbow.
I felt Mel pull a zip all the way up from my ass to my neck. Followed by the familiar snap of a lock.
The neck of the dress was split into four sections which would be fastened together with zips. At that moment the sections flopped open like a bizarre rubber banana skin. One by one, she zipped up the sections so that once together they formed a rubber tube which concealed the heavy collar around my neck. Grommets at the top of each section slipped over tiny steel posts along the jaw line of the hood, and again padlocks were attached. It became impossible to turn my neck or lift my chin.
The rubber bodice of the dress was smooth as glass, showing nothing of the items it concealed beneath. Closed zips horizontally crossed each breast.
The skirt had several zips from my hips down it's full length, which when opened would grant access to my lower body.
As if on cue, the door to the room opened and Anya's voice asked "Is it ready?"
I sensed Anya walking around me, until she popped into my pepper-pot view, like a kinky kaleidoscope.
"Mmm. It's wonderful, just as I specified. Did it give you any trouble?"
"Excellent." Anya clipped my wrist cuffs together behind my back, added a chain between my cuffed elbows and attached a leash through the nose grommets, and dragged me along unsteadily behind her. "Come, we must not be late. Melanie, fetch the car."
The fact that Anya was now referring to me as "it" was not lost on me.
The club had become considerably busier whilst we had been in the changing room. I'd lost all track of time, but the size of the throng suggested it was evening time. The patrons paused their activities and watched us with astonishment as the Mistress led her extreme rubber object by it's nose. Anya would be loving it of course, displaying her power to the peasants, basking in their hushed reverence.
Without warning Anya suddenly changed direction towards Lance's chair. I found it very difficult thinking of him as Lothar anymore.
He was sat on his own, phone in one hand, tumbler of whiskey in the other.
"Hello Lance" Anya interrupted him.
"Anya" he acknowledged coldly, still staring at his phone.
"Where is that girl? The one that was with you the other night? The naive pretty blonde in the catsuit?"
"Dunno, I've not seen her since"
"Ran away did she? Scared her off? A shame, you made such a cute couple" she mocked him
Lance looked at me stood passively behind Anya. "Who is that?" he asked changing the conversation.
"Not who; what. It has no need of a name. Isn't it wonderful? Perhaps I should do the same to your little blonde friend, what do you think? Turn her into a rubber slave, permanently bound in subservience. Then she would not be able to run. She would not be able to do anything I did not permit her to do."
Anya was addressing Lance, but I sensed that her words were meant for me, taunting me about what she had so easily done, and what further torments she could visit upon me. I was being paraded in front of someone who SHOULD recognise me as Danielle, yet I was evidently a total stranger to him.
"I'm surprised you haven't already taken her for yourself Anya."
"Maybe I will. If you see her send her my way and I'll deal with her properly. I might even let you have a play date with her. Dress-up? Doctors and Nurses?"
Anya smiled, turned on her heels, and pulled me briskly towards the exit, padlocks rattling as I hobbled awkwardly in tow.
I felt sad, and oddly rejected by Lance's failure to recognise me locked away in my rubber shell. Hello! It's me, Danielle, the blonde from the other night. You bought me a drink! You took me under your wing! You saw my face! You touched my skin! You smelled my scent!
Anya's cruel offer to pimp me out on a play date was mean. But I was now clearly way beyond simple games, Lance wouldn't have a clue what to do with a freak like me anymore, my desires had become too acutely perverted for him to comprehend, let alone satisfy.
In truth, as disturbing as Anya could be, she was the only person who really understood me. But her extreme agendas did not align with my own. I needed to be careful not to lose sight of who I was in the world of Mistress Anya.
The steps to the pavement were a bitch to climb in ballet boots, and my breathing was laboured by the time we reached the top. It was dark and raining steadily, the heavy drops were loud as they hit my rubber helmet. It was an odd sensation to know I was in the rain, to hear I was in the rain, yet be unable to feel any sensation of the droplets as they hit me and flowed off in rivulets down my slick body, my real-world senses dulled by layers of rubber.
An expensive looking 4x4 pulled up in front of us. Mel was the driver and opened the rear doors for Anya and me. I admired Mel's beautiful grey latex chauffeur's outfit, complete with cap.
Once inside I heard the sound of peeling adhesive tape, and then my eye holes became black. My arms were still cuffed behind me. A seatbelt was fed across my torso and pulled tight, drawing me securely into the plush seat. There was no slack in the belt even though we were stationery, I suspected that it was so restrictive by design, no chance of escape. There was no explanation from Anya who remained silent.
"Drive on, Melanie"
We drove for a while, my disorientation rendering time and distance as mere abstract concepts. Eventually the smooth road noise changed to a gravelly crunch for a while before the car drew to a stop.
It was raining even heavier, quite torrential. I felt the heavy drops hitting my rubber shell as if I were stood beneath a particularly powerful shower.
Unseen hands helped me from the vehicle and guided me up more steps and then through a door. Instantly the environment felt warmer, there was the faint aroma of delicious food.
"Anya, Melanie welcome!" came a woman's cheery voice. Whoever she was, she was English, and very well spoken.
"Rhea, so wonderful to see you again, happy birthday!". There was the sound of expressive cheek kissing.
"Melanie, please go to the kitchen, they are waiting for you"
"Yes Miss Rhea". The sound of heels on wooden floor faded into the distance.
"So .... Who is this you have brought to see us?"
The tape over my eyes was removed. Rhea was staring at me, squinting, trying to peer through my eye holes. She was shorter than Anya, wearing latex leggings and a white cotton poet blouse. Frills edged the plunging neckline, exposing her ample cleavage. She would have been even shorter if it were not for her considerable heels, easily 5 inches high. Her blonde hair was bobbed to her shoulders, framing her naturally beautiful face, the dark red lipstick contrasted boldly against her milky fair complexion.
"It has no name. It is simply entertainment for the evening, a birthday treat from me"
"Oh how sweet of you. I'm sure we will think of fun to have with it. She - sorry, 'it' - looks rather damp though, we'll put it near the fire to dry"
Miss Rhea certainly did not fit my mental image of a Mistress. Anya was the only reference I had, and in all respects Rhea was very different. Rhea seemed open where Anya was a closed book. Rhea was dressed quite casually where Anya always wore clothes intended to reinforce her superiority. Rhea's smile lit up her face where Anya's steely expression revealed nothing of her inner feelings.
On first impressions I presumed Rhea to be a softer, more playful Mistress. My supposition was quite misguided as I would soon learn.
They led me from the hallway into a large reception room. The decor was quite ostentatious. Two large plush sofas upholstered in a deep red fabric stood at opposite sides of a large, elaborately patterned rug. Matching curtains were drawn against the night. A chandelier hung from an Artexed ceiling. It was not lit, the only light in the room was provided by an open fire which raged in an impressive stone fireplace. They sat me on a simple wooden chair in front of the flames and, using chains, secured my ankles to the chair legs and mittened wrists to the arms of the chair.
While the suit dried on the outside I became considerably moister on the inside, the heat of the fire causing me to perspire.
The Mistresses left the room talking like old friends.
I listened to the sounds of dinner coming from another room. The voices were too subtle to make out any words clearly, but the conversation appeared jolly with plenty of jovial laughing. I constructed a mental image of the dinner from the sounds and smells; metal cutlery against porcelain, decanted drink, clinking glasses, stacking plates and finally chairs sliding from the table and heels click-clacking.
After some time Anya and Rhea returned to me. Rhea had changed clothing and now wore a stunning full length white latex dress. It was reminiscent the dresses worn by Greek goddesses. The dress was supported by a single shoulder strap and held her torso tightly. Two slits in the dress from her thighs to ankles exposed toned creamy legs. Around her waist she wore a belt made of large interlocked golden metal rings. Her high heels were in a matching golden colour. She looked breathtaking, with a face that was soft and disarming.
Once released from the chair the three of us headed down some steps to what appeared to be a basement, my thighs were shaking with fatigue by the time we reached bottom. Before us was a heavy wooden door adorned with chunky iron hinges. It looked very old, but was probably modern and designed to appear rustic. Rhea unlocked the door with an iron key, and pushed it open with some effort, clearly the door was as substantial as it looked. It closed with an ominously thunderous thud once we had entered.
The room for all intents and purposes looked as if it had come out of an ancient Greek textbook. The walls appeared to be constructed with large heavy blocks, and thick stone pillars lined the walls. Intricate stone and ebony statues in an ancient Greek style guarded the four corners of the room. Authentic looking flaming torches were placed between the pillars creating a surprisingly bright glow, yet keeping the extremities of the room in an inky blackness.
At one end of the rectangular room was a door. At the opposite end of the room were two throne-like wooden chairs, draped in multi-coloured fabrics. Behind each throne was a large wooden chest, again decorated ornately with scenes of mythology.
"Magnificent!" said Anya.
"Thank you. It took a lot of time, and a lot of money to get it to this state. I still have more plans for the place, but these things take time"
"Indeed. So what is it about Greek mythology that interests you so?"
"Everything" she beamed. "The architecture, the romance, the legend, the monsters, the heroes. And then I like to add a modern twist, for example .. my latex gown!". Miss Rhea did a twirl, the panels of her gown floating elegantly. She smiled and curtsied.
"Quite enchanting Rhea."
"So, what shall we do with 'it', Anya?"
"Your birthday, your treat, you choose"
"May I see it's eyes?"
Anya unlocked the padlocks round my jaw and peeled the neck pieces. The thick collar was unlocked and removed shortly followed by outer hood. It felt wonderful to have clear vision once more.
"Beautiful eyes. So large and expressive. How long have you owned her?"
"She is not mine yet .. Not officially anyway. When she has proven herself worthy of my protection I will take her."
"Not taken yet? Interesting. And yet she willingly allows you to keep her like this? A treasure for sure, Anya, I may have to steal her away from you!" Rhea laughed.
"I hope she will be mine very soon, and become the slave she is destined to become"
Wait. Anya just said "hope". That was the first time I had heard her express a wish of me. Since meeting her, it had always been demands and expectations, but for a moment I sensed I still had some power. Anya could physically take me in an instant, of that I was sure, but "hope" implied a need ... a hint of human in the machine.
Rhea unlocked and removed the gag from my mouth, along with a pool of drool.
"Thank you" I whispered, my jaw aching as I exercised it.
"Oh it speaks?"
Distracted with nursing feeling back into my jaw, I did not see Rhea's hand before it slapped me hard across the face. My semi numb skin burned and tingled.
"Silence! Careful, or you may lose your tongue like Philomela"
I looked at Anya in shock, tears forming in my eyes. Was she going to let Rhea treat me like that? Birthday treat or not, I did not appreciate being abused by a complete stranger, and threatened with mutilation. Anya remained indifferent.
Rhea had shocked me, my first impressions of her as a playful Domme had been shattered.
"It has a lot to learn. But if she wants to make a noise, let's indulge it" said Rhea.
The women whispered together and laughed. "Time for some fun" chirped Rhea.
Rhea clapped her hands and Melanie and another girl I had not seen before entered the room. They were also dressed in brown latex Greek dresses. These were much more plain than Rhea's but were fitted perfectly.
Melanie stood a little behind Anya while the other girl, Hestia as Rhea referred to her, placed a metal pole vertically into a hole in a slightly raised platform on the floor in front of the two thrones.
The zips on my skirt were undone and I was forced to kneel with my back to the pole. My arms were pulled behind my back and wrists secured together with a strap behind the pole. Thicker belts were added above and below my breasts, at my waist and hips and buckled tight behind the pole, securing me to it.
Next my shins were pulled tight to my thighs and fused together with the addition of another couple of belts, again pulled very tight.
Anya unzipped the fastenings covering my breasts and eased them from their rubbery cover.
"Oh yes, just perfect. New piercings?" asked Rhea.
"Yes, will your game still be possible?"
Rhea inspected my breasts, her fingers felt wonderfully cool and my nips hardened in response. "Mmm, yes indeed" she smiled almost hungrily.
Hestia wrapped a small belt around the base of each of my breasts and buckled them snugly. My boobs turned a pink colour and engorged a little, becoming firmer and fuller than they had before. They also began to ache a little with the pressure.
A small golden dish was attached to each of my nipples with a serrated clamp, just behind my piercings. My tits looked like macabre scales.
I hissed and whimpered as the clamps bit into my sensitive skin.
"Ha ha, we've not even begun yet" smiled Rhea smiled.
"So, here are the rules" she continued. "Your Mistress and I will play a game of cards. The loser of the hand must add a weight to the pan clamped to one of your breasts. Your right breast is Mistress Anya's. Your left is mine. The game will continue for ten hands or until one of the pans is so heavy that it is pulled clean off your nipple. Whoever owns the pan ... loses!"
Rheas spoke so calmly as she described the game as if it were the most normal thing in the world. The game sounded horribly painful. "Please don't hurt me" I pleaded.
Anya frowned at my words. "Shall we gag her again?"
"No. I want to hear her scream. I want her eyes to show me her torment. The walls are thick, no one will hear. Let's begin."
Rhea dealt each of them a hand of cards, and they began to play their game. I could not ascertain what the game was, but after a couple of minutes Anya smirked and laid down her cards. "I win!"
Miss Rhea picked up a small golden disc from a stone bowl between the two thrones and placed it in the dish clamped to my left boob. Immediately the discomfort increased as the weight pulled down on my nipple. I moaned, which seemed to please Rhea, even though she had lost the hand. She clearly relished the pain.
Another hand. This time Rhea won and Anya added a disc to my right breast pan. I gritted my teeth.
Miss Anya won the next two hands and the weight on my left breast was clearly pulling it down. I wailed out loud, the pain excruciating.
By the time ten hands were played I had five discs in each pan. My nipples were being pulled relentlessly from my body, stretched to their limit. I was screaming loudly as I prayed for the weights to be removed, my body shaking with the stress making the dishes swing to and fro further torturing my nipples.
Tears were rolling down my rubber cheeks.
"Ahhh there we are" purred Rhea, taking a tear on to her finger and licking it with her tongue. Your eyes are even more beautiful when they show me such suffering."
Rhea was looking me directly in the eyes. Her face was so close to mine I could smell garlic from her dinner. She never blinked and remained almost transfixed as she kept me in her fascinated trance cocking her head is if she were looking deeper and deeper into my soul.
She suddenly snapped out of her trance as if given smelling salts "Tie breaker!" she announced loudly. Thank God, I wanted the torture to end so badly.
The Dommes took a handful of the discs each and stood next to "their" breast. Hestia took a position at the side of Anya's breast and Melanie at Rhea's. I stared at each of them through wide, fearful eyes.
"Your Mistress and I will continue taking turns to add discs to the dishes. After we place, the slave girls will flick the breast with a cane to encourage the dish to drop". Rhea was smiling evilly now ... it did not suit her porcelain face.
"Do not fail me slave!" threatened Anya.
Anya added a weight. "Eeeeeeh!" I wailed. CRACK, Hestia struck my swollen right tit with the little cane "Ahhhhh!" I screamed.
Rhea added a weight. "Eeeowww!" I pleaded. Crack, Melanie caned my left tit. "Aaaaagh!"
Anya added a further weight. It felt like my nipple was going to be pulled clean off. CRACK, the fire in my flesh burned hotter. I bucked in response to the pain and I felt the pan slip from my nipple and crash loudly to the stone floor.
"Buckaroo!" celebrated Miss Rhea.
"Well done" congratulated Miss Anya thinly. She was giving me a disappointed glare ... I knew I would pay later for failing her.
The dish was removed from my other nipple, and the straps released which were hold ding me to the pole. I cried, foetal on the floor carefully dabbing the welts on my breasts with my mittened hands.
"May I play with it a little longer?" Rhea asked Anya.
"Do what you want with it, my dear, she deserves no mercy from me" huffed Anya.
The Mistresses sat in the thrones, Melanie poured each a glass of red wine.
Rhea beckoned to her handmaiden and whispered in her ear. Hestia and Mel removed the pole and roughly ushered me into a new position on all fours. My wrists and ankles were anchored to rings in the floor and a T-bar was placed into a hole in the floor which then rested on my hip bones, holding me in position.
A feeling of dread was in the pit of my stomach.
With a clap of Rhea's hands, the handmaiden then approached one of the statues which was shrouded in an inky corner of the room. It was a statue of the Minotaur and to my surprise she clipped a leash onto it's collar and as she gently pulled, the statue moved! It was not a statue at all, but a hulk of a man dressed as the mythical beast.
He was huge, like a bodybuilder, black and imposing. He wore an ancient Greek knee length cloth skirt, and around his torso he wore a thick heavy leather harness. His wrists were wrapped in matching heavy iron cuffs with a weighty two foot long chain holding his arms in front of his body. Greek style sandals adorned his feet with latticed straps up to his knees. A bulls-head style helmet covered his head. It too was fashioned from leather, with two large sharp horns. The sight of the bull-man, and my precarious position filled me with trepidation.
He looked incredibly strong and fearsome, his exaggerated musculature rippling as it captured shadows in the glare of the flickering candles. But for all his might, he was being led obediently by the demure handmaiden, like a formerly wild beast which had been broken and domesticated.
As the Minotaur approached so his bulk seemed to increase. He knelt on one knee in front of Rhea and bowed his head in respect ... or was it deference.
"My Minotaur, Aegeus has sent another of Athens' best for you to feast upon."
The beast turned his head towards me, and stared. Things were getting more bizarre by the minute.
I remembered from school that the Minotaur was the monstrous offspring of Pasiphae and the snow-white bull, but Miss Rhea had clearly constructed her own fantasy from the legends, however inaccurate it may have been.
The handmaiden undid the Minotaur's skirt and it fell to the floor, revealing his penis, secured in a metal cock-cage. The bars of the cage were thick and a padlock held it shut. Even stuffed in the chastity, I could tell he was huge. I shook my head, looking first at Miss Rhea and then Miss Anya. The handmaiden unlocked and withdrew the cage and his cock unfurled like a carpet. Even flaccid he was big and thick.
Almost instantly his member engorged and grew. How did Rhea exert such control over the guy's cock, to be able to make him erect at her command. I thought it would never stop growing, until eventually it rivalled the obscene dildos found in Surrender. Thick, black and veined I felt myself moistening in anticipation. Hestia rolled a condom down it's length, and at the moment I knew my fate.
Mel removed the leather cover and unzipped the rubber panel from my pussy. I could tell I was very very wet.
Minotaur positioned himself behind me, and in an act of humiliation slapped his hot rod against my ass cheeks. It was surprisingly weighty and filled me with dread.
I felt his tip at my pussy entrance, and as he pressed forwards I was stretched wider than I ever thought possible. The impaling was slow and deliberate, it felt like there was no end to the length. At the point I felt like his cock was going to push right through my body I felt his hot pelvis rest against my ass.
He filled me like nothing I can describe. Even though I was pained and broken from the game, I was as horny as hell.
The scene was grotesque, a man-bull fucking a bound rubber damsel from behind. Having started slowly he was soon pounding me hard, his hips butting hard into my ass cheeks, the T-bar dug in painfully as his weight banged me roughly into it.
I was screaming on each thrust. At first it had been in pain, but developed into lust.
"Fuck yes!" I yelled "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me !"
The two Dommes exchanged knowing glances.
Minotaur was only too happy to oblige, picking up pace and brutality. I don't know how many times I orgasmed before he was finished, my mind had given up long before. I was left a gibbering, drooling, aching, satiated wreck.
While Hestia re-fitted his cock cage and led him back to his corner Mel replaced the rubber panel with the teasing fingers and the leather cover locking away my throbbing pussy once again. My aching breasts were zipped back inside the rubber dress and the gag, outer hood, collar and neck pieces were all locked back onto me. Snap, snap, snap .... My arms were locked behind me once more, forearms parallel to each other and my skirt was zipped shut down to the hem.
The party had come to an end. Anya and Rhea said their goodbyes and before we left the house tape was added to cover my eyes once more.
I struggled to stay awake during the journey from Rhea's home. My mind and body too fatigued to function properly. My feet had become numb from the unrelenting en pointe position they had been forced into by the boots for the last few hours. It was a welcome change to the cramping but I knew the discomfort which would come once they were removed would be hellish.
My arms too had become numb once more from being held in their position for such time, and then crushed behind me as the seatbelt pulled me firmly back into the car seat. My hands also had lost feeling, and even though I was now longing to be free of the bondage I knew the inevitable pins and needles from the restored blood flow would be horrible.
Eventually the car pulled to a halt and my heart lifted at the prospect of release from my rubber enclosure. I was helped from the car and supported as I was walked, still blinded by the tape. My knees were wobbling and I struggled to hold my own weight. If the boots had not been so supportive I was sure my ankles would have buckled completely. With support under each of my armpits we made slow progress.
We must have been outside because I could feel a slight chill, even through my hot and sweaty rubber attire. To my surprise we did not enter another door. Instead I was laid down on my back on a hard floor; now I really did feel the chill as the warmth was drawn from me by the concrete.
I had no strength left to resist as my wrists were unlocked from behind me and then immediately my left wrist was re-locked to my collar, causing my shoulder to ache after having become stiff from lack of movement.
The mitt was removed from my limp, but free, right hand. Something was placed into my palm and then my fingers were folded closed.
"In your hand I have placed the key to your locks. You failed this evening, losing the game for me. I am not accustomed to losing, anything! Your forfeit is to free yourself from your bondage unaided. I would not take long if I were you, who knows what would happen if you were discovered like this. You may be lucky and get discovered by a kindly, helpful person. Or maybe you get discovered by the police and thrown in the cells with the other sluts. Or maybe you get found by the wrong sort and suffer an even worse fate.
"Get yourself free and quickly and you may just get our of this unscathed. You will send me a text and tell me what happened, if you are able. Understand?"
I half nodded as best I could in the collar. I was fearful about where I was being abandoned. Was it somewhere public or concealed? Safe or vulnerable? What sort of people would be in the area? I tried to vocalise the questions but the gag merely passed muffled sounds.
"Goodnight". I heard the faint sound of heels receding into the distance. The thud of car doors being closed and the sound of the engine as they drove away.
The realisation suddenly hit me that they had actually dumped me somewhere. At that moment I hated Anya for leaving me in such a dangerous predicament. If this was how she treated one of her slaves then I wanted none of it. She was my protector, and I felt betrayed.
What would someone do if they discovered me like that. As Anya had taunted, they may be good folks who would help me, as embarrassing as that would be. The alternative's filled me with fear. The prospect of a police record or even a conviction. Or a fate even worse. The gears of my mind were working through the possible outcomes of the situation, and none of them were good!
My only chance was to get myself free. Feeling had started to return to my free arm, and the discomfort of pins and needles had begun. I exercised my fingers, encouraging the blood flow to return, careful not to drop the key. I tried to think back to the dressing room and the order and location of all the locks. It would take me some time to free myself ....
Serge carefully exited The Lair by the back door and stood fully obscured by the heavy shadows cast down the small alleyway. From his vantage point he could clearly see the girl laid prone on her back, barely moving on the cold hard ground. He was not into the fetish stuff, but he had to admit she looked bizarrely stunning enclosed and locked in all her heavy rubber and leather. There was a bulge in his trousers.
He lit a cigarette, took a long draw and pulled his coat collar up as it began to rain again. The droplets made pit-pat noises as they bounced and ran off her clothing as if she had been polished in Turtle Wax.
His large hand played with keys in his jacket pocket ... While the girl had been with Anya that day he had searched her purse which was still in the changing room and taken imprints of the small ring of keys he found within. Once copies had been cut from the imprints he had used them to gain access to her flat building. He had dressed as a gas engineer, complete with authentic looking ID card. Before he had chance to enter Dani's flat he had been surprised and challenged by her neighbour, an elderly lady, who opened her front door as he reached the top floor.
"Can I help you young man?" she had asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
"Your landlord has asked us the check the gas. Someone reported a smell. We don't think there is a problem, but we are checking each flat just in case"
"Oh goodness. Miss Nystrom is not at home, dear, but you can check mine?"
Serge was used to improvising, nothing went completely to plan. Usually in such buildings the flats tended to be laid out exactly the same. By looking round the old lady's flat he would be able to complete his business in Danielle's much quicker. He agreed, and once the old lady was happy with his credentials he had her show him the meter location.
He carried out his charade and drank the cup of tea the old dear insisted he have before leaving. He then accessed Dani's flat using his counterfeit key and got to work.
Serge located the girl's laptop and using special software on a USB stick he installed key loggers and trojans. These would capture her usage of the PC and send all the information to an IP address where it could be deciphered. He didn't care how the magic happened, his job was to get the nasty little programs onto the victim's machine.
A search of the flat unearthed useful documentation including passport and birth certificate which he photographed. A rummage through her bedroom furniture revealed an impressive collection of latex and leather garments and also sex toys and bondage equipment.
There was nothing of interest in the spare bedroom except for a battered mirror and empty trunk. For some reason that room gave him the creeps.
He had left the building without meeting another soul. Another successful mission, he was confident that Anya would pay handsomely for his time and information.
The girl was moving a little more now, and he could make out faint moans. Her free arm was feeling round her body, but the movement still appeared laboured. He wondered why such a beautiful young woman would be into such an extreme fetish life. She could have any normal guy she chose. He shrugged, drawing the last of the usable burn from his cigarette and discarded it on the ground.
Although the alley was relatively short, the girl was obscured from view having been left to the side of a large bin belonging to the club. She should be safe enough while she released herself, but Anya had insisted that he keep a watchful eye. Anya loved to play her psychological games. The girl would be going through mental torture wondering where she was, and if she was in danger. He had seen Anya play head games with subs many times, but this was extreme even for her.
Serge froze and cocked his head as he heard faint voices. Two figures appeared at the end of the alley. He receded further into the shadows.
One of the figures pointed towards the large bin and they slowly stumbled along the alley towards it. They sounded drunk or high, and one of them held a half drained spirit bottle in one of his hands. As they got closer Serge could see they were unkempt and dressed in clothes which had seen better days. They had not shaved for some time. He could see their pupils were wide and dilated, eye movements were rapid. Probably Meth heads, this could get messy.
The men reached the large bin and flipped the lid open.
"Anything?" asked one
The second man, who had climbed up the side and was now bent over, head-down rifling through the contents replied "Some snap in here. Some bottles of beer too."
Serge could see that the girl had frozen, evidently she had heard the voices too and was trying not to draw attention to herself. He could see her chest rising and falling quite quickly ... he wondered if she was cold or frightened. He considered another possibility - that she was excited. Given her fetish tendencies, she may actually be getting off on the danger. Impossible to tell from the outside.
"Hey! Come looks at this!"
The skip buzzard fell away from the bin, landing on his ass, smashing the bottle he was carrying. "Fuck! Mack, you scared the shit outta me. What ya do that for ya prick!"
"Sev, come here, what the fuck is this?"
Serge made a mental note of their names. If there was to be a confrontation with them, it would be easier to defuse if he could use their names in the negotiation.
The two men knelt next to the girl, mouths agape.
"Is she alive?"
Mack placed a dirty, trembling hand on the girl's chest.
She immediately made a series of muffled screams and managed to move her head from side to side a little. The two men fell backwards in surprise as if that had received an electric shock. They laughed "Yup, she's alive alright. What do you suppose she is doing here? Part of the garbage?"
With more confidence the men ran their hands over the girl's body, feeling the rubber and testing the locks.
Mack found the zippers covering her breasts and undid them. "Holy fuck" he gasped as her plump breast flesh burst forth from their rubbery prison. The girl continued to moan deliriously, sufficient feeling had returned to her arm to lash out catching Mack full in the face.
"Bitch!" he growled and pulled at her nipple rings eliciting muffled noises which were clearly more pained than protesting.
She weakly swung at him again but he just brushed her arm away and continued to grab and squish her breasts like a virgin touching tits for the first time, eventually pulling the plump rack through the zipped openings. He hooted as he marvelled at them resting atop her chest, the serrated zippered openings gently squeezing their base causing them to swell a little.
Sev had found and undone the zips to her skirt revealing her boots and nylon thighs. "Damn she's hot. What we gonna do?"
"She don't know us, right. She can't see us. Hell, she can't even talk. She's out with the trash. I say we have some fun!"
Serge watched the scene with growing concern. The man called Mack was beginning to drool. Druggies were the worst; irrational and dangerous. He remained in the shadows. Anya wanted the girl to learn a lesson, but he would not let it go too far.
"I dunno Mack, this ain't right man"
"You gonna pass up pussy on a plate? What are ya, a faggot? Look at her ... she's been left here to be taken, like Halloween candy!"
A glob of Mack's drool dripped from his slack jaw onto Dani's breast and snaked a viscous path down her impressive mound. He leaned down and licked at her erect nipple, drooling some more. Dani swung her fist again and hit Mack with little power. "Fucking bitch, stop that!" he growled and bit down hard into her soft flesh, leaving teeth marks, but not breaking the skin.
Sev had rolled up the front flaps of the skirt all the way to her waist. Dani brought her arm down with all her might and dug the key she was holding into the back of the man's hand. Sev wailed in pain. "She fucking stabbed me, man. Look!". The little padlock key was still sticking out the back of his bloodied hand.
"Still think it ain't right to take the Halloween candy?" Mack taunted.
"Fuck it yeah, she owes me!"
Mack climbed on top of Dani's heavily boned stomach and straddled her. "Time to stop your arm!" He grabbed her arm, and using a little padlock he found by her side he locked her cuff to the collar, matching her other arm.
"You seen these marks on her titties? Looks like she been whipped or something. You think she's one of those freaky bitches who are into pain and shit?"
He then proceeded to knead her breasts roughly, pulling at her rings and twisting her nipples. He laughed at the sounds of pain and terror coming from the hooded head. "Yeah, you do like that, don't ya bitch! Keep resisting and I'll give you all the pain you could possibly wish for"
Sev had pulled the bloody key from his hand, and was between her legs having moved her skirt flaps out of the way "Damn she's locked up tighter than Houdini, man"
"Except this Houdini ain't never getting out!"
Dani screamed again and thrashed her body, gaining more leverage as her body recovered some of its strength, fuelled by the adrenaline rush of fight or fight.
"Even her pussy is all locked away. Let me try this key". The man tried the key in the first of the locks which secured her pussy panel to the corset. "It works! Ha, stupid bitch, you gonna regret stabbing me with this!"
The second lock came away just as easily as the first and he peeled the leather panel away from her pussy, exposing the rubber suit covering her cunt "Jesus, more layers than a fuckin' onion!"
Mack had by now found the nose holes in the hood and was playing with covering them, causing the poor girl to buck as she became desperate for air.
Sev's pants and trousers were round his ankles, semi flaccid cock in his hand, trying to bring it to life. He found and undid the crotch zipper in her suit. Her pussy lips bloomed forth like a flower as he removed the rubber panel. He saw the little rubber fingers coated in her thick juices, sweat and pussy juice leaking from her engorged lips. "Holy shit, man, she's fuckin' gushing down here. I think the bitch likes it rough, Mack!"
Serge could see the girl was in real danger now. He would have to intervene soon. Evidently Sev had "crystal dick" but his level of sexual arousal would probably drive him on regardless. Serge was not going to stand by and let her be raped by a couple of meth head scum.
"I wanna see her face" Sev slurred while he pulled at his dick trying the get it erect. "I bet she's real pretty"
"Why do you wanna see it's face? You don't look at the mantle while you are poking the fire! Hurry up and fuck it, I want my turn. Then we'll call the guys and they can have some candy too" he grinned evilly. "We can keep her at Ace's place. She wants to look like a fuck doll, let's keep her that way ..."
Sensing the serious increase in threat to her safety, Dani thrashed and kicked her legs desperately trying to push the man away from her sex.
Mack was mercilessly pulling and twisting her nipple rings. "You stop that right now bitch, you owe him. And then ... and then you can owe me too!"
"She ain't calming down Mack, damn this bitch is fiery"
Mack growled and reached into his jacket and pulled something out. "I know how to calm her down"
Serge saw the glint of the syringe. Mack was moving fast, his thumb already on the plunger, the needle heading straight for her exposed breast. Now was the time to act. With the lightning reactions of a proficient killer, Serge's boot was planted heavily into the chest of Mack before he even had time to see it coming out of the shadows, sending him crashing forcefully into the wall, knocking the wind from him. A hammer palm to the face broke his nose and left his face a sea of red.
In a seamless movement he then deftly grabbed the syringe from Mack and thrust it into Sev's cock and fully depressed the plunger, injecting the full load of whatever evil substance the syringe contained. Sev wailed, grabbing his cock.
The two attackers scrabbled shakily to their feet, and adopted defensive stances. They took a second look at the beast before them and turned tail and ran.
The girl had become more sedate, sensing the immediate danger had passed. Serge picked up the key from the ground, cleaned it and carefully placed it in the barrel of her left wrist lock. He watched with fascination as she fumbled and found the key with her right hand and turned it freeing her left wrist from the collar. She then went on to remove her left mitt. She wriggled her liberated fingers.
Satisfied that she now had the tools to make her escape Serge left the alley to avoid being spotted when she eventually removed the hoods. He sat in his car a little way down the street and poured himself a coffee from his flask.
One by one I unlocked and removed the padlocks around the hood and collar.
It was not an easy task to do blindly and it took a lot longer than I hoped. I was fearful that whoever it was that accosted me would return to complete their heinous intent. It had been hard to hear clearly through the two hoods but I knew that I had been in great danger.
They, whoever they were, had been very rough with me and I could only assume that they were intending to rape me. If that were not sick enough it sounded like they were going to kidnap and keep me as some sort of sex slave. I had cried and protested as much as I could through the ordeal but my gagged bondage kept me a silent victim to their will.
How could Anya have done that to me, left me so vulnerable and unable to protect myself. She had said it was a punishment, but surely no indiscretion was worth the trauma I had just been forced to endure.
I didn't know what had caused them to abandon their attack but I was extremely grateful to whomever or whatever it was that saved me. It couldn't have been the police or else I would be in custody already. Although I had no clear idea of what had just happened to me, I had the feeling that I had narrowly escaped something very very bad.
Eventually I had the collar, hoods and gags removed and I took in deep breaths of fresh air as the cool rain washed the sweat from my face. I captured the refreshing water on my tongue and lapped it down greedily.
My shoulder bag had been left near me, containing the clothes I had worn to the club earlier. It also contained my purse, phone and Anya's special phone. At that moment I wanted to stamp on her phone with my ballet boot, smashing it, and Anya's influence, into a million pieces. I had rage in my heart.
I should not hang around in the alley in case they came back. I carefully zipped my bruised and welt-ridden breasts back into the rubber dress. With some very great effort I managed to unlock and remove the ballet boots, replacing them with my heels from earlier. My feet ached badly as I tried to re-accustom them to a much smaller heel, having spent so much time forced en-pointe. But at least I would be able to walk a little more convincingly in public.
There was no time to fully release myself. With my hoods, gag, cuffs and collar removed and skirt zipped closed I simply looked like a woman with a taste for unusual rubber fashion, rather than a rubber bondage fetishist. With the removed items stowed in my shoulder bag I quickly left the alley and took stock of where I was. There was only a single car on the road a little way off. Other than that the area was deserted. I recognised the area immediately and walked round the corner to discover the entrance to The Lair.
At least Anya had not left me in the middle of nowhere. Had she perhaps orchestrated the "scene" as part of my punishment? Why else would she dump me on "home" ground. My mood lightened a little at the revelation. The time on my phone was 4.30am.
Once the Uber had safely taken me home, it took another couple of hours to extricate myself from the rest of the outfit. The hardest part was the corset with its odd "toothbrush" tool which required me to almost dislocate my arms to reach the locks.
After a long shower I collapsed naked onto my bed and felt every inch of me throb and ache as the strain of the day began to fade.
"Fuck Anya's text, I'm done with her" I said out loud.
The burn in my breasts was still there and the welts were still painful. I massaged soothing lotion into them feeling the ache fade a little. My nipples hardened and became sensitive as I oiled them. I closed my eyes and I was back into my hooded bondage once more as the unseen person again teased, twisted and pulled at them. I moaned gently.
I hated to admit it but the incident in the alley had also turned me on, even more so now I believed it was one of Anya's games. Indeed one of the guys had commented how juiced and swollen I was down below when he had eventually worked his way to my pussy. I got off on the danger.
However despite how incredibly vulnerable I had been, despite how utterly helpless I had been, despite having been roughed and abused by total strangers, despite how close it had seemed I came to being kidnapped to some den to be used as a sex slave ...
... and despite Anya's irresponsible abandonment of me, directly leading to the whole horrific episode ...
... despite all that ...
I was home. I was safe. I had pushed beyond my limits. I had endured extremes and emerged relatively unscathed except for superficial marks which would heal and fade quickly. I had faced horrors and survived. I had dodged a life threatening bullet.
It felt liberating to have faced such danger and emerge a winner.
It felt good ... Mmm so good ... so wonderfully goooood ... so ... so .. so ...
My eyes flicked open again as my sopping wet fingers brushed my clit to the edge and I came hard.
Once I had calmed down I typed the message into Anya's phone:
I AM HOME, MISTRESS ANYA
I paused before sending, searching my feelings for contradiction. At that moment, there was none. I pressed send.
Everything in my life was changing so quickly. Jonathan, Anya, Surrender, The Lair and by no means least my career.
Far too quickly.
I was not in full control any more. Too many plates were spinning, and it was only a matter of time until they would begin to topple, one by one at first, until the whole show came crashing to the dirt in a shattered mess.
Like a loom, my mind feverishly worked to weave the myriad threads of my life into a neat, organised tapestry. Until a few weeks ago it had been so simple, the pattern had been basic and easy to handle. But since the discovery of the trunk, the colours of the threads had become random and capricious, the tapestry of my life turning into an abstract mess of shape and colour, depicting the turmoil of my mind.
Even sleep, the last bastion of sanity, was losing it's comfort. Peculiar and troubling dreams of bizarre people and places were becoming more regular, and I would oft wake up sweating and uneasy. The dreams usually themed around rubber and bondage, presumably driven by my new-found seductive second life. But the dreams took it to extremes of sadism, dominance, pain and control. Hellish excesses to which I was disturbed to bear witness yet, like a moth drawn to a hot bulb, would endure the pain to experience the rapture of the light.
With life so overwhelmingly busy I had neglected my hitherto regular visits to the gym. I resolved to visit early in the morning in an attempt to flush my system with energising endorphins.
The gym was open twenty four seven, so it was no problem being there at such an early hour. It was well lit and had secured doors activated by security card. Even though I was the only member there I felt quite safe.
First I hit the running machine and jogged steadily for a couple of miles. The endorphins worked their magic, my body felt invigorated and strong. Next I used the cycles and did a good thirty minutes of challenging interval training, sweating copiously, the damp stains blotting through my Lycra vest-top and shorts. It felt a little uncomfortable at first as my sensitive clit ring rubbed against the seat, despite the protective sanitary pad I had covered it with. But by the end of the program I felt great, alive and empowered.
To my surprise, it actually felt good to be out of rubber and latex for once. Having become so accustomed to wearing some form of rubber semi-permanently, my gym gear had felt oddly foreign. But now a wave of contentment that almost verged on a feeling of freedom was rising within me. I pedalled hard into the next incline and pondered whether this, right now, was the real me and if the last few weeks of my life were merely a morbid flirt with danger. An early-life crisis?
I had comforted myself with the belief that the incident in the alley was orchestrated by Anya for dramatic effect. But what if it hadn't. What if I really had been seconds away from becoming a sex slave for a drug gang, destined for an unimaginable existence. I was in too deep, Anya had tempted me with the apple which was quickly turning rotten to the core. I had to take action, for the sake of my safety and sanity.
Thoughts were clearer than they had been for some time. I was a strong independent woman, I knew I had the fortitude and willpower to extricate myself from my predicament before it was too late.
I could do it, I would do it!
Anya and Lance would become mere acquaintances I once knew. The Lair and Surrender would just be places I once visited. Career and family would become my focus once more, and I would happily return to normality. My fetish stockpile would be discarded anonymously somewhere, perhaps even fly-tipped down a quiet country lane. I chuckled at the thought of the local rag's front page headline after that little treasure trove was discovered.
Jonathon, however, was the elephant in the room. He had become a treasured companion. Not just because of the physical gifts he could provide, but because we could talk for hours about anything. There was no secret agenda, he never coerced me in any direction; instead he would listen attentively and support the choices I made for myself. It was not him who had pushed me down this rabbit hole, he merely held my hand while I climbed in of my own volition, providing the support I needed to reach my own ambition. If I asked him, I felt sure he would equally support me in getting my life back on track.
Simple. I had a plan, and all I needed to do was stick to it.
I smiled as the loom of my mind began to craft a beautiful brocade once more, the detritus of the preceding weave fading into the past.
The cycle beeped and the cool down began. I wiped the sweat from my face and headed to the water fountain, breathing hard, a little woozy from exertion. I pressed the button but was momentarily distracted by a noise from the direction of the front door. A ceiling light flickered. No one entered.
Must have been the wind.
When my attention returned to the running tap I recoiled, squealing in horror. Instead of water, there was a black viscous liquid seeping from the spout. With eyes clamped shut I counted to ten. "No, no, no. Please God not another hallucination".
Peeking through trembling fingers the cooler was once again back to normal. No sign of the black liquid. I tentatively filled a refreshingly cool cup of water, took deep breaths and reminded myself of the new life plan. There would be challenges to quitting any form of addiction, I had to be strong.
Eager to bolster my mood I started on a series of weight machines. Soon feeling pumped again, my muscles ached with the lactic acid fatigue of a good workout.
With ten minutes remaining until I needed to leave, I jumped onto the lat machine for a last couple of sets. The weight was set low and I easily counted off rep after rep.
The lights flickered and dimmed as I pulled the bar down to my chest on the final rep. I exhaled, tensing the muscles, squeezing the most out of the movement whilst I watched the flickering light curiously. And then at once; straps grew out from the pull bar, rough and leathery, and wound multiple times round my wrists and fingers anchoring them to the bar. Further straps sprouted around my ankles from the feet supports, holding them securely.
The lights extinguished completely, leaving me momentarily in a pitch black vacuum before the emergency lighting triggered, but the room remained barely illuminated. Pulling against the straps proved fruitless, they were of strong leather and coiled many times.
Another hallucination. Two in such a short period of time was unusual. "Help me!" I screamed.
There was subtle movement from the far end of the room. One of the boxing dummies was gently rocking side to side in a squeaky, metronome motion.
The room became chill and I renewed my attempts to escape.
The dummy ceased it's motion. With sheer horror I saw it morph into a humanoid shape, gaining height as it grew legs and arms. The previously solid bulk undulated and rippled and reformed itself into the figure of a woman, with a skin of shining black. It reminded me of my transformation in the bathroom into a black rubber doll. This doll, however, retained it's ability to stand and move.
The body morphed again, refining it's anatomy, squeaking softly as if an unseen magician were making a kinky balloon model.
When the final form was assumed the squeaking was replaced with a rhythmic raspy sound. The female figure walked towards me with a sexy sway to her hips. As it neared I could see it wore a heavy corset which pulled the figure into an almost impossible hour glass. The reason for the rasping became clear, she wore a gasmask over her face with a single large filter. Thigh high leather boots adorned her legs, laced from top to ankle, which clicked loudly on the floor as she walked. Her jet black catsuit was so beautiful it could have been one of Jonathon's masterpieces.
She leaned in towards me, her filter louder than ever as the exhaust chilled my breast. I turned my head away, not wishing to acknowledge the creature, but fascination got the better of me and I stared back into the opaque lenses of the mask.
"Who are you?" I whimpered. The lenses slowly became transparent. The eyes behind the mask were familiar but I was too panicked to recognise them immediately.
The woman stepped back a couple of paces, and reached for a skipping rope which hung from a nearby machine. She held the handle in her left hand as the free end unravelled to the floor.
"What the hell do you want with me?"
"Acceptance"[ Right Word ?] rasped the mask, the voice distorted, calm and emotionless.
There was a fluttering sound, and the skipping rope gradually turned into a leather whip, starting at the woman's hand and proceeding like a burning fuse to the end.
"No no no no" I pleaded.
The woman took an aggressive position to the side of me, clearly not entertaining my pleas. Something bad was going to happen. With one jarring movement the machine cable retracted with a whir, and raised the bar to it's zenith as if a tonne weight had been added to the rack, brutally pulling my arms high and wide while the foot attachments moved out to the sides, holding me vertical in a stretched star position.
My protests continued to fall on deaf ears while the woman deftly made the whip dance in the air around me. At times I could feel it's proximity, getting close but not connecting, the sound of the thong as it cut through the air almost caused me to lose bladder control in fearful anticipation.
And then it finally hit. Like a streak of fire across my back. Again and again she would make the whip tauntingly dance before letting it bite into my flesh.
I lost count of the number of lashes. She struck me all over my back and thighs. Even the front of my body was not spared as the long whip curled around my torso biting painfully into my breasts, stomach and thighs.
Strength deserted me. If it were not for my bound wrists I would have slumped to the floor.
"Why ...." I managed to ask weakly.
"There is no going back. Not now, not ever. Let your old life go", her voice still passionless and raspy, as if dishing out punishment was a casual matter.
The whipping ceased.
"I .. I don't understand"
"Stop fighting your deepest desires. It's too late to reject what you are. What you are becoming. You've come too far. You think you can just turn it off, turn your back and walk away from your true self?"
"You make no sense"
"It's deep in your soul now isn't it. The hunger. It haunts your thoughts. There is no Dani, there is only Phoenix. You cannot simply bury Phoenix behind a facade of respectability. Her fire burns too fiercely for that now"
With a blinding series of flicks of the whip she masterfully cut away the material of my gym gear and it fell in tattered shreds to the floor. The pile of rags flamed brightly for a second before fading to dust.
Now I was butt naked and shivering uncontrollably, my sweat soaked body drew in the chill air of the room, my salty perspiration inflamed the welts making them sting like a swarm of angry wasps.
"Stop it, stop it ! Get out of my head, GET OUT!"
"Why? Why can't you leave me alone??" I shrieked hysterically.
"Because, Dani ..."
The woman slowly unclipped and removed her mask, smiled, and continued in a soft, unfiltered voice " ... I am you. The real you. You know this, don't you? Truthfully?"
I regarded my doppleganger in disbelief as her revelation registered in my brain, unable to breathe, let alone speak.
"Time for honesty. What are we really? Hmm? Accept what we are ... and we will be at peace ... no more conflict ... no more doubt"
We shared an intense silence, staring deep into each other's eyes, like I was looking in a mirror. One side of the glass as naked as the day she was born, the other side a rubber encased fetish goddess. But which was real and which the reflection.
My mind was running amok, the conflict painfully crushing my skull.
I thought about how she had just flayed my flesh with the whip and felt revulsion towards her. As if in response to my repugnance she began to fade a little before my eyes.
My thoughts drifted to friends and family, happier times in my life before the recent events. She faded some more, and the gym became visible through her as if she were becoming a ghost. I was resisting, perhaps even dispelling my hallucination! My confidence grew.
Again came the fluttering sound. The whip, still held by the rubber witch was lengthening towards me. It felt cold and slick as it coiled first around my ankle and proceeded to coil and creep up my leg. As it slithered over my ravaged skin it soothed my wounds. It's embrace was almost tender, and when it reached the top of my thigh my focus and resolve was beginning to melt once more. The tip of the whip started to gently flick at my pierced clit, playing with the ring. Oh the feeling. The woman was chuckling now.
A trickle of my hot juices was oozing down my thighs, I was becoming turned on in a big way. My reverie was broken by a hissing sound, and I saw it was not the whip at all which was teasing my pussy, but the forked tongue of a jet black snake.
I screamed in fear and revulsion, my stomach churned at my own perverted imagination.
The woman laughed at my abhorrence, taunting "You're creating all this for yourself. Your warped mind manifesting your darkest deviances."
"I want it to stop! How do I make it stop?" I hysterically asked as a second slick object coiled up my other leg. Both snakes flicked their tongues at my pussy, stoking a burning lust within. My lips were engorged with anticipation.
"Only you can make it stop ... if you really want to, you can make it stop at any time. But you can't can you."
"I WANT IT TO STOP! I DO!!"
To my amazement the snakes stopped. I took heavy gasps of breath.
"I did it?"
The respite was all too brief as the heads of the snakes morphed into two huge phallic dildos, their surfaces heavily textured.
"Oh God, no. No no no" I cried.
"See. You can't help yourself can you? Embrace it and let go!"
Each dildo shaft was made up of 3 sections which sprang into life, rotating in opposite directions to each other, slowly at first but with an increasing speed. Without warning the coils around my legs suddenly advanced and the dildos roughly entered my pussy and ass.
They were huge and I feared I would rip open. Each intruder was increasing its rotation speed, the shafts moving in and out of my holes, sprinkling copious amounts of my juices all around me as the ribbed shafts rippled my lips and ass.
The woman had become more solid again. My runaway thoughts, fuelled by my horny state, drifted to Surrender and the delights within, to Laura the pony. My twin was watching me intently, revelling at my tortured mental tug-of-war pulling me dangerously close to the edge of insanity.
Anya was in my thoughts now. My eyes rolled back into my head. I re-lived how she made me feel when she played with me, used me, abused and controlled me.
The tide had turned in the rubber tormentor's favour. She had regained full integrity and I knew that I was lost. There could be no hope of return to a normal life, only to be perpetually plagued with debilitating schizophrenic dream states.
I did need the thrill. The danger. The adventure. The desire!
Snippets of memories from the last few weeks hit me in rapid succession like the flashes of Paparazzi cameras, faster and faster, each more vivid and intense than the last. As the images reached a blur, the relentless intruders brought me to a sudden and powerful orgasm which seemed to last an eternity.
To the sound of imperious laughter, I, Danielle Nystrom, faded into thin air .......
... and returned to reality with a jolt.
"Are you Ok? Hey, lady are you Ok?"
A gym coach was knelt by me, gently shaking my shoulder, looking concerned.
"I .. I'm fine I think. What happened?"
He smiled thinly "We found you asleep, on this machine."
"Oh God, really?" I got to my feet. I was still wearing my gym gear, thank heavens. To my embarrassment my nipples were good and hard, and the shape of the piercings were clearly visible through the material. I saw him looking at them and covered my chest with a towel.
My pussy felt oddly empty. The pad I was wearing was sodden but at least it had saved me from further humiliation.
"Sure you are ok"?
I nodded unconvincingly and quickly headed home
When I arrived at work later that morning the blinds were drawn in Gordon's office. I made a coffee and got straight to work on the Patterson account. It had been a long hard slog but we were on the cusp of a landmark victory. A win for a client as notable as the distinguished Mr Patterson would boost our firm's profile immeasurably.
I wriggled in my chair feeling the slender vibrator gently rubbing against my entrance, a special morning treat for myself to take my mind of the earlier troubling hallucination in the gym. It was a devilish model, a favourite of mine, designed to randomise duration and intensity. A piece of it rested against my pierced clit and a fat stubby phallus penetrated me about an inch .. just enough to be a persistent tease and pleasure. Goodness knows I needed some light relief. The vibe was held snugly against me, and inside me, by a thick pair of rubber pants from the Jonathan collection. I was already marshy down below after the commute into work, I loved the way my moisture squelched and oozed when I moved, trapped between the rubber and my skin. Surreptitiously I regularly misted myself with body spray to mask any odour which may bring unwanted attention.
The door of Gordon's office opened and two suits briskly exited. I recognised them as partners in the firm, probably doggedly monitoring the Patterson case. There would be promotions and accolades abound if we won. I felt sure I would be in line for a promotion too.
Gordon called me into his office. I grabbed my coffee and scurried in, curious to see if it was related to his meeting with the partners.
"Close the door and have a seat please" his tone was flat and serious, devoid of his usual light banter. I sat with crossed legs while the vibe in my panties barely fluttered.
He absently leafed through some papers, as if searching for a way to start the conversation. He coughed nervously.
"So, how are you Danielle?" Thanks to my little friend I felt wonderful, but I sensed an edge to his voice.
"I'm great Gordon, thank you. Buzzing about the Patterson case!" I inwardly congratulated myself for my witty repartee. If only he knew what was really buzzing.
The teasing vibe stopped. I furtively squeezed and relaxed my thighs, relishing the feeling of sealed juices dispersing randomly beneath the rubber, my boss oblivious to what I was doing. I smiled sweetly.
"Everything alright at home?" An odd question, get to the point.
"We've all had to work very hard recently. Long hours. I realise it impacts on all our home lives, you've all done a wonderful job to stay so focused."
"Thank you Gordon". The vibe was fluttering again as if a reward for the praise.
"Winning this case will open a whole new tier of clients for the firm. But it will also expose us to closer scrutiny. The firm's reputation is built on our professionalism. At all times."
I nodded, only half listening whilst the vibe intensified. I had to lean forward on the pretence of stirring my drink to try and ease the torment on my clit, I needed to keep focus on the meeting. Why had I picked today of all days to wear the damn vibrator.
"How we conduct ourselves in our personal lives may also come under scrutiny. We must be beyond reproach."
He was setting a scene, something was coming, and it was coming straight at me. He sat back in his plush leather chair, fingers linked.
"Danielle. I'd like to talk about your life outside of work. What do you do? How do you relax?"
"The usual stuff really. I go to the gym, meet friends and socialise, go to the cinema. That sort of thing ... Why do you ask?"
Again, that awkward pause.
"It has come to my attention that you may be engaging in what could be considered, umm, unsavoury activities." The damn vibe intensified, I felt a flush on my cheeks.
"I don't understand?" Squirm, squirm.
Gordon handed me a brown A4 envelope.
"Can you explain these?"
Inside were several large black and white photographs. I recognised the first one immediately. It was me, clear as day, stood in the dressing room of the club the other day, stark naked. I gasped. The vibe turned up another gear. I needed a clear head to negotiate my way out of the serious situation.
"Where did you get these?"
Each picture told the story of the day. And with each image the vibe seemed to intensify, teasing me, fuelling the fire in my puss.
"That is not important. What is important is the subject of the pictures."
Each picture was only of me, no sign of Mel, Anya or Mistress Rhea. The photos had been carefully selected so as not to implicate anyone else.
Together, the portfolio formed a seedy flicker-book history of the day, and brought back to me the sheer intensity of the whole experience. I turned each picture slowly reliving the day feeling Gordon's gaze upon me the whole time.
Flick .. Me, stood naked and vulnerable.
Hum .. No please not now
Flick .. Me, dressing in layers of shiny fetish clothing.
Flick .. Me, hooded in rubber.
Hummm .. For God's sake stop
Flick .. Me, collared, cuffed and padlocked.
Flick .. Me, stood on an anonymous pavement, droplets of rain on my rubber skin, a leash attached to my collar, held by an unseen person outside of the picture.
Flick .. Me, a BDSM plaything, clamps biting into my breasts, attached pans pulling my soft breast flesh painfully from my body. Pain and pleasure clear from my my partially hooded face.
Hummmmmm .. Oh no ... please stop
Flick .. Me being caned, painfully dark marks on my swollen breasts
Hummmmmmm .. No no no, stop before it's too late, pleeeease!
Flick .. Me getting fucked hard from behind by a bizarre creature from Greek mythology
HUMMMMMMMMMMM .. Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!
Flick .. A CCTV image of me laid next to a large bin in a littered dirty alley, a scruffy man pawing at my exposed breasts.
Wait, what is this??
Flick .. The man biting hard into my flesh
HUMMMMMMMMMMM .. Ah ah ah
Flick ... Me, pinned under the man while another tramp-like guy was peeling away the rubber from my exposed pussy
The alley ... what .. It was REAL?? .. not a "lesson" ... I really was very nearly ....
HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM .. Ah ah ah ah ah ah
Flick ... A syringe needle inches from my welted breast
HUMMMMMMMMMMMMMM .. AAAAHHHHHHHHHH !!!!
I looked from the pictures to Gordon's frowning face, my streaming eyes wide with shame, horror, panic, betrayal.
"And we found these in your desk drawer" He held my old dildo panties aloft with a pen.
The culmination of the powerful memories and discovery of my dirty office secrets pushed me over the edge and I came HARD. I flinched, tensed, bit my lip and moaned aloud.
"Jesus!" Gordon was watching me in stunned abhorrence, leaping to his feet. "Danielle, did you just ..... oh my God! What the hell is wrong with you??"
"I'm sorry" I pleaded. The vibe was still going hard at me. I knew I was in deep trouble but despite everything, despite the professional suicide, I was going to cum again.
It was subtler, but the shudder of my body was no less obvious to Gordon. I clasped my hand to my pussy and pulled the panties away from me, desperate to stop the vibrations driving me wild. My juices instantly flooded out from behind their rubber dam, seeping over the chair.
"Oh shit shit shit. Gordon, I .. I .. Please, I'm so sorry"
Gordon looked at me with a distaste so acute it broke my heart and I cramped with total humiliation. What must I have looked like to him, stood with my skirt hiked, legs apart and rubber underwear held proud of my body while I drenched everything with my brew of bodily fluids.
"Danielle! Consider yourself fired for gross misconduct! Get out, and never contact us again"
I ran out of the office, still dripping, and quickly grabbed my personal effects on the way. Colleagues watched me with stunned curiosity. Did they already know the truth about me? If not, the whole sordid story would surely become water cooler gossip soon enough.
My head was spinning and stomach churning. My legs barely supported me as I ran into the restroom at a nearby McDonalds. I opened the toilet, checked for funnels and hooded heads, and unloaded the entire contents of my stomach. I removed my soiled rubber pants and washed away the thick residue with a packet of wipes from my bag. I paused at the point of throwing them in the bin, the familiar sense of longing stopped me discarding them and I slipped them on again, feeling weak and pathetic. I took a moment to breath and take stock of the morning's drama, then cradled my head and cried and cried. My grand plans to drag myself back to my former life lay in tatters, I was in free fall.
I needed to get back to my castle as quickly as possible and raise the drawbridge against the world. Taxi was the quickest transport. I needed money for the fare and stopped at the ATM. To my horror I found that the balance on my account was zero. No funds available, no overdraft. That was impossible, my job was well paid and my incomings way exceeded my outgoings, it was inconceivable that there were no funds left. Fearing the worst I checked my other accounts and found those were empty too. I found a small amount of cash in my purse, enough to get me home via the bus.
I found a seat as far away from other passengers as possible. After a few minutes my phone chimed the arrival of a message. It was from Anya. I fought the need to read it, but curiosity got the better of me. It was a message of few words which conveyed grave portent.
"Slave, I am coming for you. No more games. It is time to kneel at my feet and surrender yourself to my dominion."
Was it possible that Anya had something to do with my empty accounts? Surely that was impossible, I'd never shared any such information with her. The circling hyenas were closing in leaving increasingly limited opportunities for escape, I had been fastidiously herded for her final move.
I closed the message and noticed an unread voice mail from Mum. I had to keep her out of this mess, protect her from the nightmare. I listened to the recording. Her voice was shaky and weak, she was crying.
"Dani, it's Mum. I ... I've received some pictures in the post today ... crazy horrible pictures"
Oh God, no
"I don't understand, Dani"
I closed my eyes tightly, clenched my teeth and prayed they were not the same photos Gordon had just shown me.
"The pictures .. " She began sobbing again "Is this really you? Are you involved in some sort of sick sex cult?"
She was becoming hysterical "Dani, how could you .. How could you participate in this - this - I don't even have the words to describe it, oh my God, what have you become?"
The message ended abruptly, leaving me a snivelling, trembling mess, fresh tears of my own streaming down my cheeks.
"Mum, I'm so sorry" I wept into the passive handset. People were staring at me, sensing my distress yet keeping their distance lest they become involved in the crazy woman's drama.
The message from Mum was the straw that broke the camel's back, the horror and disappointment in her voice broke my heart completely. I was a listless dinghy, powerless and vulnerable, relentlessly carried by a storm wave towards the rocks where my life would be shattered into a million pieces.
Through the dark storm, however, there was the faintest of glows from a lighthouse. It's light was weak, almost imperceptible, but gave me one last desperate hope of salvation ...
I practically burst through the door, such was my desperation to flee the merciless world. I quickly locked it and leaned my back against it a moment, trying to catch a breath.
As ever Jonathan, my rock was immediately responsive to my tearful summons.
"Dear Danielle, whatever is wrong?"
"Oh Jonathan, Anya has destroyed my life. I've lost my job, I've alienated my family, I have no money. My life is ruined, all because of a stupid obsession."
"Then you must make amends. Rebuild the bridges"
"You don't understand. It's too late. Anya is coming for me. She has orchestrated all of this, she means to take me and turn me into her permanent rubber slave!"
"Then run! Run while you still can, before she gets here."
"I've nowhere to go, and no means to get there. I'm trapped Jonathan, trapped!"
"Dear Danielle, would a life with Anya be so terrible? You have sought her governance for some time now ... isn't this what you wanted deep down?"
"I thought it was, in the beginning. It was exciting and addictive to be part of her world, but at the end of the day I was able to return to my own life. I really think she means to keep me in total permanent bondage, cut off from my life, to become her powerless fetish slave. It's too much, I don't want to lose who I am! Jonathan, is there anything I can do?"
"I sense it is the conflict that makes you vulnerable. You need to embrace the true you, then you will be strong enough to resist Anya's influence."
"But what AM I? I feel like I am losing my mind. The addiction, the desires, the hallucinations. I don't know what to do, or how to do it, and the hyenas are closing in."
"Danielle, perhaps I can help you ... if you will permit me?"
I felt a faint feeling of hope. "Yes! Yes of course, please help me Jonathan"
"Open the trunk"
With the lid of the trunk wedged open there was a swirling mist within. I gasped.
"Empty your mind Danielle. Look into the mist, it will help you marshal your thoughts, and the answers to your questions may come to you"
My body and mind did indeed relax a little as Jonathan had suggested. The periphery of my vision darkened and my mind drifted. At once visions began to enter my brain, evoking the gamut of emotions. The visions brought joy, excitement, desire, fear and revulsion. Like a "20 question" game, my mind was closing in on the elusive answer.
Finally, the answer was revealed. I closed my eyes and shook my head. "No, no it can't be that. How is that different to a life with Anya?"
"It is different because it is your own self perception. What you saw is you, the true you, the thing you are."
The mist in the box was now sparking like synapses. It was all too much for me. I ran for the front door ... but it had disappeared leaving a solid wall in it's place. Jonathan was still speaking to me but his voice was still as loud as it was when I was next to his mirror. I realised that his voice was no longer external, but in my head.
Don't run anymore Phoenix. This is the only way to find peace.
My instinct to flee was strong, I ran to the window. I would jump if necessary, willing to risk broken bones to escape. The window disappeared before my eyes as if an invisible plasterer was covering it. The room was filled with a booming creaking noise as if it were the timbers of a great ship rocking in the waves. All the windows were now gone, along with the only door. The interior walls were disintegrating, leaving only the four exterior walls of the flat remaining.
"Wha ... whats happening? Jonathan, what are you doing?"
Let go Phoenix, and be reborn from the ashes of your scorched life
His words were like honey. I had trusted him with so much of my life, why should I doubt him now. The last of my resistance faltered.
Gooood Phoenix. Gooooood
There was a tiny hurricane-like funnel formed above the open trunk. I could feel the wind even from across the other side of the flat. Still creaking loudly, the walls morphed into mirrors. The doors to my wardrobes and furniture flung open and their contents flew out and were caught by the spinning wind, flying round the room like a scene from Twister. After the detritus did several laps of the room it was ultimately pulled down the funnel and into the trunk. All my rubber collection was consumed, what remained of my normal clothes too and everything Jonathan had made for me over our time together. Cutlery from the kitchen flew out of the opened drawers and was drawn into the chest too as if a powerful magnet were within.
Once the furniture had been emptied then it too began to split and splinter and join the exodus to the trunk. I crouched in a corner and shielded myself fearing the flying debris might batter me. Everything was ultimately drawn into the insatiable trunk, all my possessions had been consumed, only the bare minimum remained in the flat, but nothing of mine.
I felt a tugging at my clothes and they ripped from my body in shreds and ended up in the trunk.
The wind funnel faded and ceased and the trunk began glowing bright red.
I was naked, reflected in the mirrored walls, every angle revealed, nothing hidden. Now the hurricane had subsided my mind drifted back to what I had seen within the trunk.
It is time Phoenix. Rise ...
A ball of liquid was floating across the room towards me, rippling and changing form as it approached. Strangely I did not fear it, my senses had numbed, resistance had abandoned me. The liquid touched and then covered my body. It was neither hot nor cold, and solidified to become a full body red rubber catsuit. It was amazingly beautiful.
I tried to unsee the vision I had been shown, tried to stem the madness. It had to be madness, right? Had I finally lost my grip on reality?
Is this you Phoenix?
Jonathan's silky voice drew me deeper. "I prefer black" I said almost dream-like.
Then make it black
"What do you mean?" My voice was slow and calm
Think it to be black and it will be so. Create yourself in your own design
I did as Jonathan said, and to my numb amazement the colour changed to the deepest darkest black I had ever seen. I giggled at the magic of it all. Surely this was yet another hallucination, the laws of physics of the real world being broken at every turn. I had fought the previous hallucinations .. Perhaps I should embrace this one ... the hallucinations had ended eventually with no harm done. Perhaps I should enjoy the ride ...
"Whatever I imagine ...?"
Yes Phoenix. It is a lot of power, but ultimately it will be true to yourself
I experimented, and imagined that the catsuit also covered my hands and fingers, and it manifested before my eyes. I imagined a short neck piece and long neck piece to the catsuit, and it resized at my will.
The vision I had seen in the trunk was Laura from Surrender. The pony girl. Bound and helpless yet content. I thought of her curious boots and imagined a pair of my own. Black leather, thigh high, tip-toe steep with flared bases. Metal horseshoes affixed to the base. Instantly beautiful leather boots appeared on my legs, exactly as I had imagined them. I added wire laces and imagined them tighter and tighter compressing my legs in a vice like grip. A leather panel shielded the laces and several straps along the length of the boots kept the flap firmly in place. I tentatively walked in the boots to the sound of a strangely satisfying metallic clip-clop.
I pulled at the boots fastenings and found them to be completely secure, exactly as I had imagined them to be.
Can Ponies pick locks Phoenix?
"No. No they cannot." I looked at my hands thoughtfully, and imagined ....
A roll of electrician's tape flew from the trunk and began to wrap my hands into clenched fists. Layer after layer of tape was wound around my fists and wrists fusing them into position.
"It won't stop!" I commented dreamily as my fists became taped stumps.
You can stop it if you want to Phoenix. IF you want to
It took some willpower, but I managed to stop the tape and was left with heavily bound fists, useless for any purpose. I tried to imagine the tape being removed and for a few seconds the wraps started to unwind, but my concentration was not strong enough. I relented and the tape rewound my fists again.
More leather looking items floated from the trunk. My imagination was gaining momentum now.
The item wrapped around my waist from under my breasts to my hips. It pulled incredibly tight squeezing my waist into an extreme hour glass figure. It hurt. It hurt a lot, but that did not matter anymore. The heavy leather creaked as the binding pulled relentlessly until I felt like I would split in two. It was impossible for me to bend effectively and I had to focus on controlling my breathing.
My breasts began to feel cooler as the latex covering them started to dissolve from the the nipples and back to the root, exposing my pert fleshy globes standing proud from my chest. The corset made them appear bigger than ever. But, no, not just because of the corset. They actually were bigger ... and growing ! My breasts grew by at least two cup sizes, they were huge yet still firm and perky. A thin leather strap appeared around the base of each breast and tightened causing my boobs to firm a little more.
An ache in my nipples brought my attention to my piercings having grown a couple of gauges in thickness, looking large and heavy. The outer edge of the rings now also had tiny spikes on them.
More black heavy leather emerged from the trunk and wrapped around my neck, from collar bone to under my jaw and base of my skull. The thick posture collar held my neck tight preventing any movement of my head unless I turned my whole body. The collar had three heavy rings at the front and sides. The collar fastened behind my neck, fused and became a solid piece of leather. No locks that could be picked, the collar would only come off if cut away. With the corset and collar my breathing had become a little more laboured.
Several more leather straps floated across the room. There came a gust of wind around my head and my hair rapidly twisted and styled itself into a blonde high ponytail which lengthened and cascaded to my butt. Further straps were about my face in a flash. A three inch wide one wrapped around my forehead. From the centre of that, two thinner straps descended either side of my nose and attached to large metal rings either side of my mouth. Further straps from the rings went under my ears, tightened and attached to the back of the collar. Another strap went from the front of the forehead band over the top of my head and attached to the collar at the back of my neck. My high ponytail fed through a ring in the strap which held it high and proud. Yet more straps ascended form the cheek rings, up in front of my ears and met the central strap at the top of my head. A final thinner strap ran from the bottom of each ring and looped under my chin. In the centre of the forehead band appeared a prominent metal emblem that I instantly recognised ... the Phoenix, MY Phoenix!
"I can't stop!" my voice was still calm and dreamy despite the extreme situation. It was more a comment than a protest or cry for help.
Do ponies talk, Phoenix?
A piece of shiny metal flew across the room and inserted into my mouth. It was bigger than expected and completely covered and depressed my tongue. Its curved edges prevented my tongue from escaping around the sides. The metal tongue depressor almost reached the back of my throat, I had to be mindful not to gag. A thick round rubber bar attached to the metal tongue depressor at my lips and this then also connected to the large rings either side of my mouth, pulling it deep between my teeth. My teeth rested against the bit and instantly all the head harness straps adjusted and tightened holding it firmly in place on my head. Even the chin strap tightened, holding my jaw closed against the thick rubber bit.
"Ugh, helk Gogafun!"
Do ponies know words, Phoenix?
There came a strange feeling in my throat, but it's reason was not apparent until I tried to speak again. I tried to say Jonathan's name, but the sound that came out was:
I tried to speak a protest ..
I clawed at the gag with my balled hands to no avail. More drifted from the trunk. My arms were pulled high behind me into an extreme reverse prayer position. My shoulders felt like they would dislocate as my forearms met vertically behind my back, my balled hands almost touching the back of the collar. Three small straps bound my forearms together.
Next a large panel of thick leather flew behind me and wrapped around my fused arms covering them from pointy elbows to under my armpits forming a triangular heavy rubber pouch for my numb and useless arms. A thick chain at the bottom of the sheath connected to the corset and two taut chains at the top of the sheath attached to the collar fusing my bound arms tightly to my back
A thick leather panel approached my puss, attached to the centre was a huge dildo. The catsuit covering my puss dissolved and the phallus plunged deeply into me up to the hilt. The panel covered my pubic region completely and the straps fused to the corset at the front. A thin strap from the bottom of the panel fed between my legs and ass crack where it split into two and fused to the back of the corset.
I suddenly felt a horrible pain in my ass as something entered it and thickened rapidly, ensuring it would not easily come out. In the mirrors I could see it was a beautiful long blonde tail.
Very good Phoenix. You have found your true self. How does feel?
"WHINNEY!" I replied
I experimented walking round the room. It was surprisingly comfortable, almost natural. I was drooling heavily but that did not bother me.
My reflection in the mirror was astounding. I regarded myself critically and added missing pieces. Blinders appeared on the head harness focusing my vision to the front. A beautiful red feather plume stood elegantly from the top of the head harness. A thick silver nose ring. Straps from each of the bands around my breasts secured them to the bottom of the collar and top of the corset. The final touch was a chain running between my nipple rings, a little silver bell hung from the centre of the chain and delicately rang as I moved.
Occupied with the final adjustments to myself I had failed to notice the single chariot which had formed behind me, presumably from the wood of the furniture. It was wonderfully crafted and was adorned with my Phoenix emblem. I had also failed to notice that the two wooden arms which extended from the body of the cart had attached to the sides of my corset with metal fastenings. I pulled the cart with surprising ease.
The room suddenly became deathly quiet and Jonathan's mirror shone a ghostly blue. A blue vapour began pouring out of the mirror to the floor and from it grew the figure of a man. He was a strong build, a man clearly used to physical work. He wore quite antiquated clothing. He had white hair and a bushy white beard. All in all a very attractive guy.
"Yes Phoenix, it is me, Jonathan"
He approached me and checked all my straps and harnesses, before caressing my breasts with his large rough hands.
"Shh, shh. Calm now pony. You are more beautiful than I could have imagined. You are probably rather confused right now. As you can see I am now able to take form outside of my mirror. When I told you before that I could not affect your world I was telling the truth. At that time at least. It is you who has made this possible for me.
"You often asked me what I wanted from you in return for my gifts. I wanted nothing more than to bask in your life blood as you evolved within the confined chrysalis of your life. I had no idea just how powerful your energy was going to be.
"Over the years I have tried many times to illicit the same energy from others. I would try and steer or cajole them through the process, pushing them to achieve my own selfish ambition. Transition is a huge drain on the mind and body and sadly weaker minds would fail or break completely leaving them adrift on the sea of insanity.
"But not you, dear Danielle. You were a different proposition altogether, your metamorphosis has provided all the energy I need and more, all the more powerful because it was of your own volition, not forced."
Jonathan was now stroking my flanks, swatting my latex covered ass.
"And now I need you to help with one final thing for me. We will use your energy to pull us through the very barrier between life and death, so that I may be with my beloved Mary again. I have waited so many years for this moment, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.
"And you will enjoy an eternity as Phoenix, a beloved pony girl on our farm, cherished and adored for who and what you are."
Jonathan attached reins to my bridle and hopped into the chariot.
"Come Phoenix, it is time to go"
He flicked a whip against my ass and I leapt forward, heading towards the mirror. As we approached, the mirror grew in size to form a large glowing portal and we galloped straight through into .......
Anastasia Kristina Sokolov sat alone in the coffee shop, absently stirring her steaming cup of Earl Grey whilst reading the local paper.
She had shortened her professional name to Anya some years ago when she began to build her business empire. But right now, in her melancholy state, she was Anastasia once again, the 35 year old woman originally from St Petersburg.
Her short skirt and tight blouse attracted lustful glances from the men and judgemental glowers from the women.
She would tease them with little gestures designed to titillate; inching the skirt a little higher to reveal dark stocking tops, slow and deliberate movements of her long slender legs, an 'innocent' brush of her finger over her breasts or a seductive glance over the rims of her designer reading glasses. The men clumsily attempted to veil their lechery from their wives and girlfriends, only to fail and have to face the inevitable wrath of their partners.
It was a fun game to play with the imbeciles, always thinking with their cocks. It made her feel powerful. She regarded men as the inferior sex, and they deserved everything their testosterone-fuelled pathetic antics visited upon them.
But today she was not feeling puckish, her attention was on an article in the paper. The rest of the room paled into a distant hum:
Police continue to investigate the strange disappearance of local woman, Danielle Nystrom. Ms Nystrom has been missing for several days, leaving her apartment almost completely empty in the affluent area of Roseden. However, neighbours do not recall ever seeing Danielle move out of the apartment, and no forwarding address has been left.
Friends and family describe the woman as popular, friendly and outgoing, although they fear she may have been struggling with mental health issues of late and have expressed concern over her state of mind.
In light of new information, it is feared she had become involved with a BDSM group which may have led to her recent dismissal from her job as a paralegal in the city.
Police are appealing for information on Ms Nystrom's recent activities and urge anyone with information to come forward, regardless of how trivial they think it may be.
Anastasia read the piece with a profound sadness. She had developed a strong affection for the girl from the first time she had seen her in the club and seduced her from Lance the feckless waiter.
She thought she had found the perfect companion in Danielle, a girl who shared the same dark rapture as herself, an affinity formed on the fringes of perversion and depravity. Anya had manifested her own love in the only ways she knew how; BDSM, pain, fetish and control. Her unorthodox yet real affection had been reciprocated with a surprisingly strong propensity which she was only too happy to nurture. She had lowered her guard and allowed emotion to take root. Indeed she had broken her own strict rule about approaching a girl twice, such was the fondness she felt towards her, the girl was more than a mere plaything, there were deeper emotions at work.
To Anastasia it was an infatuation as real and tangible as any 'normal' relationship in the mainstream world, and she felt the very real pain of unrequited love. A tear almost escaped Anastasia's eye, which she quickly dabbed away with a gloved finger, lest someone should see the crack in her veneer.
She felt vulnerable and rejected, both unfamiliar and unwanted feelings. A graduate of Oxford University, such wasteful emotions had been suppressed as she transformed herself into the powerful, successful, feared and respected woman she was today. Her omnipotent reputation was built upon the steadfast pillars of legend, mystique, invulnerability ... and apathy.
Anastasia sipped her tea. She had allowed herself more than ample time to lament Danielle's apparent desertion. With a strengthened resolve she cast the weak and vulnerable Anastasia back into the depths of her psyche.
Mistress Anya drained her cup and rose aloofly, her impeccable facade restored. On her way to the exit she gently cupped the chin of a young man who had been stealing illicit glances at her, leaned close to him and blew a kiss. "Take a picture, it will last longer" she purred in her sexiest Russian accent.
As she reached the door she heard the young man's lady friend berate him publicly for his indiscretion, and the satisfying sound of a slap across the face.
She smiled widely at her mischievousness, put her sunglasses on and took herself back into her world.