When Elise entered the room, June almost didn’t recognize her.

Impossibly high platform boots that June didn’t even know they had owned, a dozen buckles all up the length of each one. Shiny, transparent latex, tightly sealing Elise in over every single inch of her skin. Something that resembled a stiff, ridged leotard, but like a corset in the middle and replete with delicious straps. And higher, just higher, a semi-opaque mask, which rendered her apparently bald and cloaked nearly all of Elise’s cute, freckled complexion in a dark and forbidding visage. June felt her heart leap up into her throat when she met Elise’s gaze. She had put in contacts, unnaturally bright electric blue ones, and when their gazes met June almost had a swooping feeling that the woman stalking towards her, predatorily, powerfully, was not her cute and soft-spoken girlfriend anymore. No. She was a Mistress.

“Elise…?”

The woman stopped abruptly, mere inches away from June. “Strip,” she said, her voice cold as the winter itself.

June shivered and did as Mistress asked. Shirt and jeans. Bra and panties. Socks too. She stood before this latex-clad dominatrix with the flashing blue eyes, and had to mentally restrain herself from timidly covering her breasts and shrinking down to something very, very little.

A sharp push. It was totally unexpected, and June let out an involuntary gasp as she fell backwards onto the bed. Mistress followed, crawling onto her, and for half a moment she saw Elise in the way Mistress moved, but that moment fled quickly. The latex deity that had taken Elise’s place roughly grabbed June by a shoulder. That hand slowly traced its way down to her breast, fondling her with a terrible firmness so different from Elise’s usual care and grace that June gasped. Then there was a finger, rubbing her snatch forcefully before slipping into her, shallowly, once, twice, then back at her clit. June took in a heavy breath, closing her eyes, and the hand almost immediately receded. A soft slap to her face and June let out a quiet, pitiful yelp of surprise.

“I own you, slut,” Mistress said. There was something that almost sounded like fury in her voice. “I own your body, your breasts, your hips, your cunt, your pretty little eyes, your wet little mouth. I own your mind itself. So be a good little slut, and doll up.”

Mistress had stepped back. Suddenly the gleaming succubus above her had retreated, and something came flapping to pat her softly in the stomach. June looked down at the slippery material now in her hands. A catsuit.

She obliged, opening the glossy apparel from the back and slipping one leg in, then the other. Practiced. Smooth. But apparently not fast enough.

“Quickly, slut,” Mistress snapped. Not a trace of Elise’s humor in her tone. “Now.”

Quickly, it was. June pulled it up, up, past her waist, pausing to insert the pre-lubricated sheathes into her snatch and anus, probing once or twice before fully inserting. Then she pulled one arm in, then another, watching her limbs become like a black glass before her. New hands, perfected ones, pulled the catsuit up to her neck, reached behind her to clumsily grab for the zipper. Mistress watched dispassionately, making no move to help as June struggled for a minute before finally succeeding and managing to zip up. Done. She ran an exploratory hand down her frictionless second skin. So… tight.

“Hood,” said Mistress brusquely. “I don’t need to see your ugly face.”

June caught it and held it up. For a second, she almost thought that it didn’t have eyeholes. It took a few moments of examination to realize that there were small perforations, like a patch of tiny eyeholes, that would allow her to see. There was a moderately generous mouth opening, as well as two nostril slits. As June looked down, the thought tickled her mind. A featureless face, hooded and just a few steps from being completely anonymous and unrecognizable. June stared back up at Mistress.

“Wear it,” she said. “Do you not understand me, idiot slut? Put the hood on your face.”

There was no choice but to comply. June pulled it on, letting it slide over her short, curly hair and consume her face. Darkness. Suffocation. Then light, and June released the breath she was holding and wiggled the hood from side to side until she had aligned it with her own face. Zip. Done.

“Finally,” Mistress said. “Stand up.”

June did so. The mask was tight on her face, and she felt the blood pump through her skin.

Wait, what was this?

Yet another latex piece that was, just like the entire outfit Elise- no, Mistress- was wearing, completely unfamiliar and new. It had the same outline as a leotard, but looked more like a harness for her entire torso, and Mistress slipped it around her and tightened the straps around her thighs and biceps and right underneath her breasts. June struggled to breathe.

Then another latex piece, and this time a silicone pussy, almost cartoonishly puffed, little more than a flesh-colored slit attached to a belt designed to wrap both around her waist and between her legs. As it went on, Mistress let another finger dip fleetingly into June’s now-sheathed snatch, and June pulled in a sharp, quiet inhalation.

Now June stood, even more trapped in her new latex body than a few minutes ago, a harness around her torso and shoulders and thighs that accentuated her curves and flat stomach, a belt that proudly displayed her crotch as a lubricated and ready-to-use hole.

But even then, Mistress was not done. No.

“Turn around, slut. I want to see the fear in your eyes when I put this on you.”

June swiveled to face a mannequin’s head.

And yet it was nothing like any mannequin she had ever seen. Yes, the face (and it was obviously a latex mask) was featureless, with only shallow bumps and curves to hint at eyes and a nose, the semblance of a face underneath, but June’s eyes were jarringly caught by the red lips, the white teeth, the wet tongue.

“Do you see this, slave?”

June nodded slowly, eyes wide.

“I don’t like my sluts talking back, or talking, or making any noises at all when I play with them. Do you understand what that means? I need dolls to serve and service me, not bratty little girls to walk around flapping their jaws and daring to look at me at the wrong time.”

She shoved the mask sharply into June’s face, and June flinched, staring point-blank into the eyeless visage held aloft in front of her. The face that would replace her own, truly featureless, truly anonymous, with a mouth hanging open in a perpetual, aroused gasp, open, ready to suck.

“This goes on you, slut,” Mistress said. “You become a doll perpetually eager to serve, perpetually mine. You become my object of desire. You become my plaything. Understand?”

June nodded fearfully.

“Anything to say? They’ll be your last words for a long, long time.”

June licked her lips, nervously, and looked into those piercing eyes.

“I love you, Elise.”

For a second, Mistress’s gaze softened, and June almost expected Elise to return and embrace and kiss her and crawl into her lap. But then the moment of weakness was gone.

“Fool. Who is Elise?”

The mask turned around in Mistress’s hands and dove at June’s face. June opened her mouth just in time to accept the huge, bulging mass from the molded gag, and almost choked. Then it slid in, teeth over teeth, tongue over tongue, enveloping every corner of her mouth in smothering latex. The mask dove down, and in the advancing darkness June only saw two pinpricks of light from the nostril holes. Then it was on her face, rubbing against her hood as Mistress swiveled around her to strap up the back. The heels’ sharp clack clack on the floor became muted, as if June was hearing Mistress’s footsteps from a mile away underwater.

A jerk, and June’s head was pulled back as Mistress finished fastening the blank mask to June’s face. She grunted, trying to pant into the all-filling gag in her mouth, and breathed heavily through her nose.

Then a cold grip on her neck. A sound, distinct even through the layers of latex, of a lock being clicked shut.

June was imprisoned.

Cuffs went on her wrists and feet too, preventing her from removing the suit even if she tried. June tried to moan, but it came out muffled. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t protest.

Then Mistress had tightly grabbed her from behind, a hand running up to tender nipples, another running down to her sensitive snatch. Fingers entered, this time for certain, rubbing, invading, and June let out a silent cry of pleasure. But even as the fog of arousal descended on June’s mind, she could hear a quiet voice from over her right shoulder, from the heat of a body pressed tightly in an embrace from behind her.

“June,” Elise said quietly, “I love you too.”