Angela was on the verge of giving in to the incessant cramps that were assaulting her. It was taking every ounce of her being not to let go. The relief at the sight of Mistress was enormous.
Mistress clearly understood as she wasted no time in escorting her new slave over to the ensuite toilet. As soon as Mistress removed the tube she gave her charge permission.
It seemed to Angela that the world fell out of her backside. The stink was legendary. Her shame was monumental.
What was worse was Mistress repeated the procedure twice more. Angela was now convinced her insides were probably cleaner than her outside.
With Mistress Victoria satisfied that her bowels were now empty the new slave was marched back into the bedroom. Angela was bent over and, after another application of lubricant, a large butt plug was inserted.
This intruder was by far the fattest thing Angela had ever had pass her anal sphincter, in either direction. At its widest point, she squealed in pain through her gag. Once in place Mistress started vigorously squeezing a bulb pump and the rectal phallus swelled within her.
Once happy with the anal situation Mistress Victoria casually slipped two fingers into Angela's sex. The slave's pussy was soaking and the fingers, once withdrawn, were thoroughly coated.
"Such a slut, slave," sneered Angela's tormentor, before wiping the fingers clean on the slave lips, stretched around the ball of the gag. The stink of her own juices hung thick in Angela's nostrils.
A huge inflatable rubber penis was then rammed home and pumped up to the edge of pain. Angela had never felt so full in her life. Idly Angela wondered how much the two devices would have been pumped up if she had not accepted the collar too. Was Mistress being cruel, or simply doing her job?
Fully plugged Mistress untied the rope and then removed all the fetters, bar the collar and the ball gag. The message was clear, Angela was still a slave and Mistress wanted her mute.
"Now, finally slave, you are ready to be clad in your new latex skin. It is not easy to put on, so you will be in it for a long time. This is the first step on what I sincerely hope is a permanent transformation."
Angela frowned at this. She was role-playing this. It was not a lifestyle move.
Mistress Victoria clearly picked up on the frown on her new slaves face, "That is to say that you enjoy wearing latex as much as I do, and continue to wear it beyond the happy day the professor pronounces you free of infection."
"So let's begin," said the dominatrix, picking up the latex catsuit.
Half an hour later Angela knelt in front of her full-length mirror and examined the latex-clad slave girl reflected within. It was a surreal image but undoubtedly her own reflection. Her own head sat on top of a glossy latex vision of sexual lust.
The catsuit had taken real effort to put on. Mistress had helped with the application of a slippery lubricant but it had still required the flexibility of a contortionist at times.
The collar had finally been removed, so the tight elastic neck of the outfit could conform to the circumference of her throat.
With the catsuit on, the ballet boots had been next. Mistress pointing out that bending down to lace them would be difficult once corseted. The boots were laced on cripplingly tight. But Mistress was so delighted when she promptly stood in them, it was almost worth the discomfort.
The corset was something else. Mistress had explained that it was very different from a normal corset, by showing her the differences between it and the one Victoria wore.
First, there was no busk at the front. At the back, the corset joined by a set of crenellated interlocking tabs through which a thin flat metal bar was threaded. These were drawn together, by the usual lace arrangement. However, once the bar was in place, the lacing was undone, and then the eyelets removed with a zip at either side. With the laces gone the metal bar was held fast by barbs at either end. So the wearer was trapped within the corset's crushing embrace until the laces were reattached and tightened sufficiently to release the bar.
The corset was fashioned from heavy vulcanised rubber, though polished to a shine to match the catsuit. A small panel of latex rubber was attached over the tabs by using the same zips that the lacing had been attached to. Thus Angela's waist was reduced by five inches and she was held fast in a corset she could not remove. But a corset that would look like it had been simply zipped in place to the casual observer.
Fully dressed Mistress had proceeded to polish the suit and corset. Lingering on her crotch and breasts the dominatrix had used copious amounts of the silicon spray and a soft cloth to bring the submissive to a lustrous shine.
“This stuff is super-slippery slave, so you are banned from using the furniture,” admonished Victoria. “Now, as a treat, you may kneel in front of the mirror and explore your new uniform.”
The catsuit had built-in hands and feet and so Angela was not able to actually touch herself directly.
Still, she tried. Rubbing her hands over her new liquid glossy form. Stroking her own face with her rubber-coated fingers. Dressed but exposed. Worse than being naked the suit seemed to exaggerate every curve and delineate every feature. Her nipples, rock hard to the point of aching, poked pert treacherous testaments to her arousal. Her dripping pussy, burning and stuffed full, showing a perfect camel toe in liquid black curves.
Dressed for sex, her ‘uniform’ was that of a sex toy. She wanted to fuck herself, there was no doubt in her mind any who saw her would want her too.
Victoria interrupted her reverie, “Now, if you were mine, slave, and we were not doing this through medical necessity, the next few bits would not be going on. I think you have a pretty face, even beautiful. Plus I like seeing the lust in your eyes and the enjoyment you telegraph as you discover yourself.”
Reflexively Angela looked at her Mistress in the reflection in the mirror. She was putting a tumbler with some water and two red things floating in it on the bedside table. Quickly she cast her gaze at the floor before she was caught peeking.
“However your condition requires a hood, so that we may preserve those pretty features.”
Victoria sat on the bed and picked up a hood. She opened the zip at the rear and unfolded it so the nasal tubes were exposed. She then placed it next to her on the bed.
“Slave, you may crawl over here and kneel in front of me, my dear. It is time we sealed you in your latex prison.”
Dutifully the new slave girl complied. Quietly Angela was as excited for this stage too. She was loving the feel, smell and touch of the latex. The hood would offer intensification of all that and offer some anonymity too.
"Now before the hood can go on we need to fill your ears as per the professor's instructions. I have here some mouldable earbuds that will do the trick. They may feel warm as I've had them in this glass of hot water. But it's not so hot that they will scald you."
As Victoria spoke she gently pressed the softened earpieces into her slave's ears. Once in the gag was removed, along with a torrent of drool that was wiped off her glossy latex chest.
"As they cool they will harden forming a good seal, that is comfortable. These particular headphones come with an app as a keep fit personal training aid. They will monitor your heart rate, play music and the feature I'm interested in is they will intersperse your soundtrack with customisable motivational messages."
Victoria reached round and picked up her smartphone and a sheet of paper. She handed the paper to Angela and started tapping her phone.
"When I lift my finger, slave, I want you to read out one of the rules on that sheet."
A few more taps on the phone and apparently Mistress was ready. Victoria tapped a button on the screen of her phone, then raised her finger to cue. Angela read the first rule on the sheet.
"I am no longer a person. I am a slave. I have no rights, for I am nothing but property."
A few more taps and the finger was raised once more.
"As a slave, I will put my owner's needs, wants or desires before my own at all times."
The process continued until every rule was read out.
"I will address my owner as Master, his name is forbidden to come from my lips unless asked for directly."
"I am forbidden from using furniture. If allowed to rest I will kneel on the floor only."
"If I fail to carry out an order, or disobey, I deserve to be punished."
"As a slave, I no longer have a sexuality. I will fuck, or be fucked by, whomever Master desires."
"My Master can fuck whoever he likes, I am not his girlfriend, I am his sex slave."
"Orgasms belong to my Master, I may not cum without permission."
"I am forbidden ordinary clothes. I am only to dress in latex rubber."
"Mistress Victoria is my trainer. I will obey her as I would my Master."
Satisfied with the recordings Victoria then tapped a few buttons and ambient music suddenly filled her ears. As the new slave listened her own voice came through the swirling music.
"As a slave, I no longer have a sexuality. I will fuck, or be fucked by whomever Master desires."
Suddenly the music cut out. Victoria put the phone down.
"So along with those features, the earpieces can be used to summon you from any room in the house. Do you have a favourite kind of music I can play, as a treat, when you have been good, slave?"
"I quite like electric guitar-based rock Mistress. I first met Master at a party when he was playing Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb on the hosts' Fender."
"Good to know. So girl, time for the hood and gag. You'll not be able to speak for a while. So before we commit; any reservations?"
"The rule 'My Master can fuck whoever he likes, I am not his girlfriend, I am his sex slave.' I'm not sure I'm happy with that, Mistress."
"Hmm, I see. Well... As a slave, you are just an object, a thing. Your opinion on anything is immaterial. However, in the real world, your Master is still John. He loves you. He may have the right, but will he exercise it? This is a game about trust in the end. You as the submissive have to trust the dominant's in control of you. Do you trust your Master with your heart slave?"
"Yes... Mistress."
"Mistress?"
"You are definitely my Mistress, Mistress."
"Such a good slave," murmured Victoria, leaning in and planting a soft kiss on Angela's cheek.
"Permission to speak freely, Mistress," blurted Angela.
"Quickly."
"Mistress I love my Master. I would never hurt him. Umm... Since you arrived with all this stuff... The way you've been treating me... Fuck, you are so damn hot... I don't know how to work it. But if Joh..., sorry Master, is happy with it too... I would be very happy if you were in our lives somehow... Intimately... If you catch my meaning... Mistress."
"Well... Gosh. Thank you, Angela. That's quite an invite, I’m extremely flattered. I'm compelled to say though, what we are doing now; This whole D/s thing. It's me through and through. I don't do vanilla. I could never be just a girlfriend."
“Mistress, I get that. I understand that you are being true to yourself right now. I was not attracted to the nurse at the hospital, but to the dominatrix who arrived on my doorstep."
"So you understand then? For me to be in your life, beyond this chapter with your infection that is necessitating these measures. For ‘it’ to continue, there would have to be a collar locked about your throat."
"Right now I could not imagine it any other way, my Mistress.”
Victoria lost control. She reached out and lifted the kneeling slave into her arms. Again she kissed the slave. Deeply, passionately and possessively, her tongue delving deep as her ardour overwhelmed the submissive in her arms.
Angela reciprocated, welcoming this passionate assault. The evening had been a revelation and education. The rubber, the bondage, the dildos buried deep within her but most of all Her. Mistress Victoria. All Angela wanted to do was surrender to this woman, this lifestyle, this moment. Angela wanted nothing more than to be this woman’s slave.
Abruptly Victoria stopped. Regaining her composure she released the slave from her embrace. Slowly, clearly unsure if she had erred in some way, the submissive returned to her kneeling position.
Victoria smiled warmly to put the girl at her ease.
“I’ll talk to your Master tonight, girl. After you have been put away for the night.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” responded a puzzled slave.
Victoria picked up a small leather collection of straps.
“Now this, girl, is a ring gag. It holds your mouth open but does not obstruct access to it. It does though deny you the ability to shut your mouth and bite. That way your owner can insert anything they please within. Say another gag, a feeding tube or, if he so chooses, his cock.”
Victoria located the eponymous ring amongst the straps and offered it up to Angela’s mouth. The slave obediently opened wide and Victoria lodged the ring deep in her jaw, wedged between her teeth. Happy with its placement she deftly set about placing the straps and then fastening them in place.
“You’ll be wearing that gag under your hood for some time. It’ll cause some stiffness in your jaw muscles, but you’ll get used to it. You may also drool quite a bit. But that is of no consequence. You’re just a slave and you’re dressed in rubber. I’m sure you’ll wipe clean.”
Victoria then picked up the latex hood.
“This is your hood. I’ve told you about the lenses. They are so heavily tinted you’ll need about twenty minutes to half an hour for your night vision to kick in. Until then you’ll essentially be blind. Once your eyes have adapted you will be able to see in bright light only.”
Victoria indicated the nasal tubes on the inside of the hood.
“These tubes will need to be fully inserted. They will ensure you can breathe through your nose even if your nose is compressed by something. Tip your head back girl, this may be uncomfortable briefly, but only for a moment.”
The tubes did hurt a bit as they were inserted but once deep within the pain subsided,
Victoria then spread the cool latex hood over Angela’s face, plunging her into darkness. As the hood was stretched over her head Angela realised how much this one device would isolate her from the outside world. This really was a latex prison.
Totally enveloped now Victoria began to pull it tight and fasten the zip. As the zip progressed the hood tightened further and the cool rubber squeezed her face. Through the darkened lenses Angela could make out the face of her Mistress but not much else. It was hard to believe she would get used to such a heavy tint.
Isolated in her dimly illuminated world Angela marvelled at how aroused she was. When she had sat in the Professors office she had been truly frightened. Unsure of her future and scared at the thought of the treatment being prescribed. Now she was a quivering ball of lust. Her loins were aflame and she seemed to be falling for Mistress in a big way.
Angela had until today identified as heterosexual. Though she had never given any thought to it. She simply fancied men so far. That this woman had made such an impression was unexpected. Was she now bi or was she straight except for Mistress? Right now though she supposed it was moot. How had it gone? ‘As a slave, I no longer have a sexuality. I will fuck, or be fucked by, whomever Master desires.’ Though somehow she couldn't see John prostituting her.
Suddenly Mistress was inside her head, speaking through the earphones.
“So slave now you are enclosed in latex. Your sight will improve once your eyes have adjusted. So, one last chance to back out. Just nod if you are happy to continue as a slave rather than a patient. If you shake your head not much will change, as you have to wear this stuff. But if you nod I will lock you in my collar again and you will not be able to free yourself.”
Angela eagerly nodded and was rewarded with the sensation of the collar being tightened and the click of the padlock that secured it.
As this was being done Angela wondered why she was finding it so erotic. On the face of it, it was demeaning. She was collared like an animal. Being ordered about like a servant. Placed in restraints like a criminal. Used as an object. Why was she finding all that sexual? It made no sense, but she had never been so aroused as she was now.
“So slave, can you make me out?”
Angela nodded.
"Good then stand and make your way to the bedroom door, then return to me."
When Angela turned at the door she realised Mistress had moved. Peering through the gloom she saw her stood against the drapes. Teetering on her toes she made her way across to her, kneeling on arrival, though she had not been commanded to.
"Well, you can see to get about, which is good enough for now.”
She bent forward and attached a leash to Angela’s collar.
“So slave we are going downstairs to present you to your Master. Professionally I have gone out on a limb for you here. Both your partner and the professor will be asking me hard questions. So I will be cross with you if you back out of your role now. Is that clear?”
Angela nodded vigorously. She was enjoying being a rubber slave. If she had to dress in this ridiculous way for her health, then the role-play almost seemed a sane response.
“Then stand and follow me, slave.”
Mistress led Angela down to the living room. The stairs were tricky in the ballet boots, but she managed by putting both hands on the bannister and feeling her way down.
As they entered Master stood up, his face clearly showing surprise.
“Kneel, slave,” ordered Mistress. Dutifully Angela obeyed, assuming the position she had been taught. Which raised Master’s eyebrows once more.
“Slave, I’m going to blindfold you now and play white noise through your headphone. Hold your position until told to do otherwise.”
Angela’s vision, weak as it was, turned pitch black, and her ability to hear was masked by an electronic hiss of random noise.
Isolated as she was all she could do now was wait.
-*-
“Okay, she’s blind and deaf now. Your face is a picture. You have questions?”
“Yeah, I do. Let’s start with; What the actual fuck!?”
“What? Come on. You approached Sally. You said you wanted to trick your girlfriend into being a gimp. Kneeling before you is one latex gimp, as ordered. What’s the problem?”
“I envisaged Angela dressing in this stuff reluctantly. I thought she would endure this, not embrace it. How the fuck is this a prank on her if she is enjoying it? Fuck, look at her! She’s got her knees spread like a whore, and drool running down her tits.”
“So this has not gone as you planned. Sorry. But it is clear your woman has a huge lady boner for all this. So you need to adapt. The benefits of this for you are huge. I mean, Jesus, you have your own latex sex slave kneeling at your feet. You are straight, aren’t you? Your dick does work I take it? Coz this slave girl is dipping hot and ready to suck your cock dry.”
“Bullshite! Ange doesn’t give head. Hates the taste. Won’t do it.”
“What? Ha! Okay boy,” Vicky drawled the word boy, “here is what's going to happen. I’m going to restore this gimps sight and hearing. I’m going to tell it what you have said. I’ll then order this slave to give you the best blow job it is capable of.”
“Good luck with that,” John interrupted, “she won’t do it.”
“Well, if it does, you have to do some things for me.”
“Like what?”
“One, praise her but make sure you call her nothing but Slave. You’ll ruin this for her if you start gushing thanks.”
“Two, admonish her for refusing in the past. Instruct me to punish her for this. Do not interfere with any punishment I give her. You’ll not need to feel sorry for her. She is enjoying it. Trust me.”
“Three, once I have punished her you must declare that you cannot believe that this slave is Angela. As Angela would not behave this way. Then rename her. Give this gimp a new name we can call her. Your shout as to what but make it demeaning. Cunt if you like or Slut or something similar. Then instruct me to put her away. I’ll then put her in the vacuum bed and we can talk more about how to proceed.”
“And if she doesn’t suck cock?”
“If she doesn’t it’s your show. Do as you please. I’ll follow the orders you give. Reveal the prank and point out the hidden cameras for all I care. But I’m fairly certain she’ll perform. Are you ready? I’ll take her blindfold off now.”
-*-
Angela felt Mistress’s hands before her vision was restored. Master was still stood in front of his chair. Things seemed brighter. Her eyesight was indeed adapting to the lenses.
The hiss of the headphones stopped and Mistress’s voice came through clear.
“Slave, your Master has told me something shocking. It’s something I find hard to believe. He says in the past you have refused to give head. He thinks that even though you are now a slave you would be foolish enough to refuse to perform now.”
Mistress’s voice took on a softer more friendly tone.
“Now I know that you want to be a good slave for your owner. So here is what you are going to do. You are going to crawl over to your Master. You will beg his forgiveness by licking his shoes until he commands you to stop. When he does you will unzip your Masters fly and take his manhood in your slutty mouth. You will then give your Master the best blow job you possibly can. You will gag on your Master's dick. You will deep throat his cock, and when he comes, you will swallow every drop of his gift to you. Is that clear, slave?”
Angela nodded, realising that she really was going to do what she had been ordered. It had been a subject of contention in the past with John. She did love him. But she had never wanted to put his dick in her mouth. The girls at work did it for their men. They’d laugh at her if they found out she didn’t. What would they say if they found out about this?
She reached his feet and started lapping his shoes. Long slobbering strokes of her tongue over the leather. The taste was odd but not repulsive. What would his dick taste like? She switched foot dreading the moment he said enough. Knowing she would do this thing.
Hoarsely came his command, "Enough girl."
She rose up from his feet to stare at his bulging crotch. Her glossy hands gently reached for his fly zip, his hands did not move from the arms of the chair. The zipper pulled down his dick almost popped out. Firm, hard, erect the foreskin pulled back and helmet flared. Grasping it at the base she directed it into her mouth, straining to get her lips to close around it, spread as they were by the gag.
Desperately she tried to recall every written account of oral sex she had ever read. What did men like? What did Master like? Experimenting she slowly drew her tongue up between the glands and then began to circle the helmet with the tip. This produced a pleasurable moan so she repeated the action.
Lowering her mouth further down his shaft he hit the back of her throat. She nearly gagged but swallowed instead. His member entered her throat, but she could not breathe. She forced herself down his shaft driving him deeper down her until her lips and nose were crushed against him. Lifting off until she could breathe she grabbed a hurried breath before impaling herself once more.
“Superb, slave, well done,” came Mistress’s encouragement through the headphones. ”Now go faster for him, make your owner happy.”
Initially discombobulated at getting critique from a third party, whilst blowing her partner, Angela realised Mistress was pleased with her and redoubled her efforts.
-*-
Vicky watched the woman’s head bob furiously on John’s cock. She was magnificent, but the boy (she could not bring herself to think of him as a man) was an almost total loss. How was it they were a couple? What did she see in him? Clearly, love was blind.
So how to progress? Angela was loving the role of a slave. Every test Vicky put her way she passed with flying colours. She deserved the chance to explore this facet of herself fully. John, though, was unlikely to let her. Already pouting that his plan had gone awry, this blow job may mollify him for a while, he would eventually try to bring a halt to proceedings. He needed diverting, but how? Perhaps, first, a little division between the happy couple? Then, later, a chat with Sally. Sally had contacts Vicky didn’t. After all, Vicky was just a humble shop keeper while Sally was a pro-domme of many years.
-*-
Angela risked an upward glance, to see Master was kissing Mistress. The shock of it almost stopped her but just at that moment Mistress looked down at her and silently mouthed, “Keep going, slave.”
Angela realised Mistress had hold of Masters's hair in her left hand. Her right hand was pushing him down on his chest. Mistress was kissing Master, he didn’t seem to have much say in the matter.
Plunging back into her role of the slave she thrust down her Master's cock into her throat once more. It really wasn’t as bad as she had feared. Though she was never going to admit that to John.
Then Masters cock seemed to stiffen further and tremble before pumping forcefully three or four times, great gobs of cum into her mouth.
Instinctively she lifted off him, but the gag stopped her spitting.
“Show your Master his seed in your mouth, slave,” came Mistress’s command.
Rather than let it dribble out Angela lifted her face so John could see.
“Good girl, now swallow his gift to you.”
A cock pressing on the back of her throat, comparatively, had been easy, but perversely the gag made it hard to get the cum down. She was so used to swallowing with her mouth closed. Eventually, she managed the task and displayed her empty mouth to her Master.
“Well done, slave,” said John. “That was a pretty good blow job. But it begs a question, girl. How come, if you’re that good at giving head, did you always refused to in the past?”
Angela stared dumbly at her partner. She could not reply. Doubtless, she could gurgle some half intelligible response through the gag. But it would lack tone or inflexion. She could not be as eloquent as she felt she needed to be.
“Vicky I think some discipline is needed. I think this slave needs to be taught a lesson,” continued John.
“Indeed, Sir. You are quite correct. It clearly needs to learn the consequences of deceit. I suggest six strokes Sir, delivered immediately.”
“Do it,” came the curt order.
“Stand, slut,” barked Mistress and Angela struggled to her feet bewildered. She was being punished for something she didn’t do before she was collared. That hardly seemed fair.
“Turn around slave, and put your arms behind you,” commanded Victoria.
As soon as she complied Angela felt both her wrists being secured together. Then they were hauled up her back and secured, painfully high, by something that was clearly attached to her collar. The effect was to place her in a full nelson that, if she tried to lower her arms, pulled the already tight collar into the front of her throat. Her arms were now useless to her.
Mistress then took her leash and led her over to the dining area. Pulling one of the dining table chairs out from its place, she put it in front of the now very nervous submissive, with the back towards the slave.
Victoria then pulled the leash down, forcing Angela to stiffly bend over the dining chair. With no arms to support her, and a corset holding her waist rigid, she was forced to bend almost double at the hips over the back of the chair.
Happy with the vulnerable position the dominatrix tied the leash off to the front of the chair, holding the slave in place.
Briefly, the roaring hiss of white noise filled Angela’s world. But it quickly stopped and was replaced by Victoria’s whispered voice.
“Listen carefully, slave. I’ve sent your master upstairs to fetch the spreader bar and the crop. I don’t have much time. You are thinking this is unfair. You are right. But as you are a slave that does not matter. Get used to it. If to bring happiness to your master you must suffer then so be it. You are the trapped spider that has its legs pulled off one by one by the small boy. You must be the masochist to his sadist if required, and that is why I’m talking to you in confidence now.”
“You impressed him with that blow job, now I want you to show him you are happy to suffer for him. I said six strokes. I want you to take more than that. This is a very hard test. Before I commence I will release your leash. I will tell you if you break position I will start the count again. Stand up before the sixth stroke girl. Do this for me, your Mistress, to show your devotion, do it for your Master so he can see you will take the pain he gifts you.”
Abruptly the white noise returned. Then her ankles were gripped and it was made clear she should spread her legs wider. Resting her weight on the chair she shifted her feet in the ridiculous and painful boots.
Inevitably the spreader bar was attached and a caressing hand ran up the inside of her right thigh. On reaching her crotch the hand cupped her pussy and gave it a light squeeze. Once released a playful, but surprising swat to her backside made her squeal.
Something was forced in through the ring of the gag. It was slippery and tasted of rubber and quickly started to grow. It soon filled her mouth and she could feel it stretching her cheeks. She could still breath through her mouth though which seemed odd so she guessed the gag must have a tube through it somehow.
As promised the tension at the front of the collar was released. A hand on her back stopped her instantly rising, and the white noise was turned off too.
“Slave, you are about to be punished for deceiving your Master. You will receive six strokes. You will hold your position. If you could speak I’d have you keep count, but lucky for you, you are gagged. If you break position. I will start the count again. I will check after each stroke if you are willing to continue. A refusal will see your collar removed permanently. Do you understand slave?”
Angela nodded her head. She could stop this all with a shake of her head? She had a safe word again? Did she want to do that? This had been so much fun up to now.
Fire exploded in her backside. Angela screamed into the gag. “Warn a girl could you?” Thought Angela panting through her gag. “That fucking hurt!”
“That’s one. Ready for the next, slave?”
Despite her best judgment, Angela nodded.
It happened again. This line of fire lower down near the tops of her thighs. “Why am I putting up with this?” She asked herself. “Am I insane?”
“Two. Still okay in there, slave?”
Angela nodded before she realised she had given permission for the third stroke. Somehow this stoke seemed harder and her scream louder and longer. Reflexively she tried to reach for her bum but succeeded only in jerking the collar tighter into her throat.
“Good girl, slave. You are doing so well, three stokes and you have held position perfectly,” purred Mistress. “It seems we have a little masochistic pain slut on our hands.”
A hand started to stroke her bum, a finger tracing the lines of fire that seemed to be spreading over her rear. After a brief dalliance, it found its way down to her belly and then between her legs where it started massaging her clit.
“Heating up down here are we, pain slut? Is the fire spreading to other places, slave girl?”
Angela nodded again.
Her scream was more in rage that she had invited the fourth stroke than at the pain. The hand had not left her clit though and she realised the pain was turning her on. Was Mistress right? Was she a masochist? She could see why slaves were dressed in rubber. It was feeling pretty slick under those teasing, kneading fingers.
“So that was four. I can feel your heat, slave. It’s clear you were born to be collared. You’re revelling in this, aren’t you? This isn’t a punishment for you; it’s sex. I take it you are ready for stroke number five, slave?”
A clear question and Angela realised she was on a precipice. If she shook her head now it would all be over. The rubber suit would stay. As would the shoes and dildos. Tonight she would submit to this vacuum bed thing the professor had described, and tomorrow she would eat the low volume food and suffer another enema. But she would be a patient. The fun bit. The sexy bit. That would stop. This crazy roller coaster ride would become sterile.
If she nodded though… Sure, more sex. Sex perhaps with Mistress. She hoped so. Master hadn’t kicked off at Victoria’s advances. Pain, loss of control, humiliation, shame, bondage plus who knows what else Mistress could think of? Did she really want to commit to this?
Angela nodded, knowing what she had to do next. As it happened she did not have to act. The crop hit her left cheek only. But the tip of the whip struck her pussy.
Her scream hurt her throat though she was only aware of the pain between her legs. She stood straight up and howled in pain. A howl that turned into sobs as she realised she had claimed another five stokes on top of the remaining one.
Mistress grabbed her collar ring and hauled her back down into position. She re-attached the leash.
“Oh dear, slave. Now I’ll have to start again,” crowed Mistress. “But this time no head shaking. You’re getting six strokes whether you like it or not. Hold your position though, or I can still start again.”
The blows rained down in quick succession this time, without Mistress waiting for Angela to nod. Each stripe of fire extracted a squeal of pain as it landed. Tears, trapped by the latex hood pooled under her eyes. The fifth blow once again caught Angela’s sex. This time, for what reason she did not know, she lifted her left foot.
“There’s a term for subs like you, slave,” drawled Mistress. “We call them Smart Assed Masochists or sam for short. You provoke your owners to get the beatings you crave. Be careful little girl, I know just how to punish your sort too. I promise you, you will not like it.”
As she finished talking the sixth blow landed without warning. Angela once again screamed futilely into her gag.
“Understand this girl. Under my tutelage, you will learn discipline, decorum and submission. You will learn to obey without hesitation. You will truly strive with all your heart to please your owner in any way you can. You will learn that, as a slave, the only way you can gain happiness is through service and pleasing your Masters.”
“Shall I beat her further sir? I think, personally, that stopping now with the bitch wanting more would prove more sobering for this pain slut.”
“I agree, Vicky. Are you sure that’s Angela in that suit though? I’d never have attributed this sort of behaviour to her.”
“Ahh, that’s the freedom the slave gains in their collar. Released from the conventions of society. Reduced to the status of chattel, they get to act on their base desires. So long as they obey us, we allow them this freedom while we keep them in bondage.”
“I think we should rename her. I’m not comfortable calling this slave Angela when she does not behave like her.”
“Very wise, sir. A new name will reinforce the slaves status upon it. What would you call it?”
Angela listened incredulous, still sobbing from the vicious beating she had received. They were going to rename her? Why? Plus what was with the calling her it? Does a slave not deserve a personal pronoun?
I am no longer a person. I am a slave. I have no rights, for I am nothing but property.
Perhaps I don’t.
“I don’t want to name her something rude, in case I find I have to shout it out to attract her attention,” ruminated her Master. “That could prove embarrassing for me, let alone her. So that rules out calling her Cunt or Twat.”
"Both excellent names for a slave, in my opinion, sir."
"Really? I don't think so... Hmm, we could name her slave... Or girl, but... Oh, I know! From now on her name is Toy. She is my plaything, so she is called Toy."
"Yes, sir, Toy it is." Vicky slapped the still bound slave on the backside. "Did you hear that slave? Your name is now Toy. It is the name you will answer to from now on. Angela is gone. You are called Toy. Use or give the name Angela ever again and you will be punished. Punished in a way you don't like you masochistic slut. Nod if you understand."
Toy nodded.
"Good girl," praised Vicky as she knelt and released Toy's ankles from the spreader bar. Taking her leash Mistress led the newly named slave back to her owner.
"Kneel, and thank your owner for your discipline, Toy."
Instinctively, though not certain it was what was required of her, Toy started licking her owner's feet once more. No one complained or stopped her, so she assumed she had guessed right and continued.
"Okay, Vicky, take Toy away and secure her for the night. Then come back here. I'd like to chat about the slaves future."
"Certainly, sir," responded Mistress hauling Toy back onto her haunches by her leash, before grabbing the slave's upper arm and helping her to rise.
Once on her feet, a tug on the leash, and Toy teetered after her Mistress. She was led to the kitchen and instructed to kneel.
Bewildered at the speed of events Toy was trying to take stock when Mistress bent down and inserted a clear plastic tube in through the gag. Slowly but insistently she fed it in until it reached the back of her throat. Toy retched.
"Swallow it, slave," ordered Mistress.
Timidly Toy complied, catching the no-nonsense tone of the dominatrix. The tube continued its journey until Toy was certain Mistress had the thing all the way to her stomach.
Toy then watched as her captor attached a large syringe, it looked about a pint, to the exposed end of the tube. As soon as it was attached the plunger was depressed and the milky fluid within snaked down the tube until out of sight and presumably into her digestive system.
Once empty the syringe was replaced with another that was filled with a clear fluid. This too was injected down the tube.
Then Mistress slowly pulled the tube out. The end of it tasted of bile, confirming her guess it had reached her stomach.
"That, slave, was your dinner," informed Mistress. "Nothing to do with you being a slave. Your mouth is out of action, hence the tube. The fluid was a meal substitute that will meet your dietary needs and reduce your production of faeces. Which, in turn, will reduce the stress on your plugged and stretched anus."
Victoria squatted down in front of the kneeling slave so they were face to face. She smiled before pinching the latex under Toy's left eye. She pulled it away from Toy's face and the tears pooled there ran down her face to her mouth, clearing her vision. Mistress repeated the action to the other eye.
Standing up, and ignoring the act of kindness just performed, she continued, "Of course being fed that way is humiliating, mechanical, demeaning and wholly appropriate for a slave slut such as you, Toy. You will taste nothing but cum and rubber from now on. This reinforces your new status of an object or thing. People eat, you, as a slave, are refuelled. You will be maintained, serviced and cleaned. You will be trained, taught and programmed. You will submit, serve and obey. Stand up, slave."
Without help, Toy managed to struggle to her feet by leaning against a kitchen cabinet. As soon as she stood her leash was grabbed and she was led upstairs.
On entering the guest bedroom Toy caught her first glimpse of the vacuum bed. The Professor had explained it as a device that would enable air pressure to help compress her during sleep to guard against the bacteria in her blood.
The reality was both more mundane, and alarming. The single bed in the room had been stood on its end in front of the window to create room. The vacuum bed stood in the space vacated by the usual item.
It consisted of a rectangular frame of about six foot by four. Over that frame, a black latex envelope had been stretched. Down one side of the envelope, an open zip revealed access to the space between the sheets of latex.
The frame was supported on either side by two A-frames whose apexes connected at the midpoint of the long sides of the rectangle. It was obvious the rectangular frame could swivel where it met the A-frames. Thus whoever was placed within the latex envelope could then be tipped either forwards or backwards, or even turned upside down.
From the bottom corner of the frame a black corrugated hose, similar to the hose of a vacuum cleaner, snaked away to a large white box. On top of this box was a docked iPad, it screen blank reflecting the ceiling light.
"Climb in, Toy," instructed Mistress as she removed the leash from Toy's collar. "Be careful you don't tear the latex with your boots. Step on the thicker back sheet only. Once in you will find a breathing tube. Insert it into your gag, then place your arms by your sides."
Toy saw that there was a small step on the floor just behind the latex frame. Carefully she slid a leg within the latex envelope, and then by pressing back, was able to stand upon the step. She then slid the rest of herself within the vacuum bed and, now completely blind in the lightless space, groped for the promised breathing tube. Finding it she dutifully obeyed and placed her arms at her sides.
What happens now? She wondered just as Mistress sealed the zip and trapped her slave inside. Then a deep hum preceded the sheets of latex drawing together as the air in the envelope was extracted. Toy could not see this but she felt its effects. The sheet behind her would have toppled her from her toes in the ballet boot had not the front sheet not glued her in place, like a fly caught on flypaper. It mounded itself to her perfectly, rendering her utterly immobile.
The rubber sheet pressed down on her face, her chest, and her crotch. It trapped her legs, her arms and her hands. She literally could not move. She had been vacuum packed just like a joint of gammon on a supermarket shelf. She was completely enclosed in two layers of latex rubber. Helpless, vulnerable and exposed. It was all she could do to breathe.
Panic started to rise within her. Toy felt it start to take a grip and fought back. I'm safe, I can breathe, be calm.
It was so dark. She was blind. She could not feel, well nothing but squeezing rubber. She could not smell, the tubes in her nose bypassed her olfactory receptors. She could not hear unless her Mistress permitted her to. Even then she only heard what her Mistress allowed her to. She could not taste, well once again, nothing but rubber. Her mouth full and stretched by the latex gag strapped in place.
Total sensory deprivation.
"Comfy in there Toy?" Mistresses voice boomed through the earpieces. "I must say you look stunning from out here."
What do I look like? Wondered Toy. Han Solo-esque when trapped in carbonite?
"So this is where we will be storing you to get over your bug, my dear. Obviously, it's going to be a little dull for you. But we can work this into your new status of slave and sex toy."
Toy futilely tried to move. She could barely bend a finger.
"Are you trying to wriggle about in there, Toy? I'd not bother if I were you. You're stuck fast until released, and you are in there until tomorrow morning at least."
All night? I'll go mad!
"So this can be the punishment I mentioned earlier while you were getting all smart assed masochistic under the whip. Being put away in total sensory deprivation. You can lose yourself in there, slave."
The panic started to fight its way up from her stomach once more.
"But so long as you are a good girl, do as you are told, submit totally and obey unconditionally, I can make this necessity tolerable, even fun."
As Mistress uttered the word 'fun' Toy felt a hand on her sex. Warm and gentle it lightly stroked the smooth rubber skin moulded around her vulva.
Vicky smirked as the trapped slave trembled in its rubber prison. A more natural submissive she had never encountered. The slave's reactions made up her mind. She was making this one her own. Now, how to deal with the boy?