She had just finished her morning lavations when she met them. They were different in every conceivable way save their silhouette. Where a traveler to Amazonia might normally wear travel boots, they had only small grip-pads on their feet. A local might wear a tunic or doublet; they travelers had a hint of a small skirt. They had no voyager’s cap - only curved metallic helms that completely obscured their faces. All of these oddities only compounded the shining black that seemed to coat every inch of their skin. She had tried to hide in a bush, but the three of them seemed to see through solid objects - finding her immediately.

    She was just as surprised when they spoke.

    “Greetings, local!” said one. Her head moved slightly when she spoke, but the white-silver mask was totally opaque.

    “Hello,” she said guardedly. “Call me Winters. I’m no local.”

    Two of them turned their heads slightly, as if conferring. The third spoke again.

    “You’re not Barnett Peterson?”

    “No, no - no relation. Are you her guards? I’m due to plead a legal dispute to Queen Sylvia. Are you to be my escort?”

    All three stared at each other.

    “Do we have room for two?” said one. The other two nodded. “Of course, Miss Winters. You’ll be coming with us.”

    The three soon departed with the newest member of their group. She struggled and kicked and bucked and eventually moaned and groaned, but there was no escaping the visitors or their strange devices.

    ***

    Barnett Peterson hated having to deal with her hair. She her chestnut-brown hair in a bun, or just let it loose in a bob-cut. It was a bit different from her fellow Amazonians, but all that frippery and forced elegance had never suit her well. It was a waste of time and energy; while a politician might find it useful, Barnett’s time was more important than her hair. Besides - it would just get roughed up anyway.

    Her squires had tried to get her to look presentable… at first. She had served as the Captain of the Royal Guard in the Amazonian court, and made a very clear impression. When she dressed, it meant being prepared for hard work; a short-sleeved blouse and green chemise - rather than frippery.

    The long hallway to the chambers of discussion always bustled with activity. Ministers, courtiers, and their escorts generally congregated in its chambers, confident that the pseudo-public space would disguise any wrongdoing. They all parted when Captain Peterson began stomping towards the chambers. She was flanked on either side by a cadet in the Guards and a raven-haired colleague.

    “You look so out-of-place,” said Marina. Barnett flashed back a winning grin. “Good. It means they know who I am.” She grinned a bit, but continued her brisk walk. “If I don’t have to fight someone, all the better. Diplomacy relies on reputation as much as it does discussions.”

    Marina Carpenter titled her head. “Yes, but diplomacy-  a key part of your job as Captain of the Guard - requires gravitas. You dress more like a pirate than you do a key part of the Queen’s court.”

    Barnett shrugged as they reached the door. “Well, if I can’t win ‘em with my sterling looks, I’ll have to rely on my stunning personality.” She threw the door open, startling several guard-cadets inside. The captain strode in as though she owned the place - which, to a degree, she did.

    She absorbed the briefing with her usual gusto and confidence.

    “My Queen,” started Barnett, “I assure you that any concern of yours is a concern of mine - but really, why are you sending the captain of the guard out to find some commoner?” She traced her fingers over the map where Winters had disappeared. “I’d like to see her safe and sound, y’know, but this is just a milk run! This isn’t some palace intrigue with the Tyrans; she probably got lost or waylaid.”

    Queen Sylvia placed her fingers on the map. “Barnett, you’ve known me for untold years. Have you ever known me to waste your valuable time?”

    Peterson shrugged.

    “She might be some commoner, but she had a very legitimate grievance. I want to hear it. What kind of queen would be if I didn’t take care of my subjects?”

    “You’d still be a cute one,” Barnett said, leaning against a wall.

    Sylvia sighed. “Please, Barnett - just find her and bring her back. I’d hate to see her case get thrown out because she was late.”

    The captain studied the map inlaid on the table for a few seconds more. “Fine.” She tapped her fingers. “She was last seen checking into this nearby inn, but she shoulda made it to the palace earlier today. That means she’s probably… here.” One finger pointed to a forest. “I’m bringing a few recruits. They could use the exercise.” Sylvia wished her well as the two departed; there would be no need for a prayer of passage. Barnett would be back within the day.

    ***

    “What did I say this morning?” asked Barnett. “Keep your hair short.”

    Marina Carpenter bit back as she bundled up her long hair into a ponytail. “You said nothing of the sort, Barnett. Nothing even close to that.”

    Barnett was giggling with a wry grin. “The specifics don’t matter. You knew what I meant.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “I meant that if you’re in the business of exploring caves and forests, you should dress the part.”

    They had found the missing woman’s campsite with ease. A few tracks led towards a small, dark cave; while the rest of the guards were combing the forest, Marina and Barnett prepared for a brief career as spelunkers. Barnett, however, was growing short in patience after continual delays. First, Carpenter had insisted on examining the tracks for any clues, then she’d established a perimeter… and now she was fussing to get her hair into the perfect bun… and she still had to change into her proper subterranean exploration gear.

    “You know what?” said Barnett. “You stand watch. I’m just going to go in and rescue the girl.” Marina waggled a finger. “Just a minute more! I’ll be right there. What if you need a second sword?”

    Barnett had already slipped into the slim entrance to the cavern. She drew her own blade. “A good warrior only needs one.”

    Marina’s occasional shout was deadened by the echoes and drips of the cavern. The only light came from Barnett’s small lantern. The tracks had stopped at the entrance.

    “Hello?” she shouted. There was no response save the endless echo of her own voice.

    “Anyone here? Miss Winters? Some unspecified evildoers?” Barnett laughed at her own joke, willfully traipsing deeper into the cave. “If someone’s going to cast a spell, do it now!”

    A few minutes more passed. Her shirt was damp from the ambient moisture of the cave. It wasn’t terribly deep, but the rough terrain made for slow going. She eventually took a brief respite, sitting on the dryest-looking crag she could find.

    “Barnett Peterson?”

    She grabbed her sword. “That’s me,” she responded. The echoes seemed to disguise the speaker.

    “Hello?” Barnett stood still for a moment, waiting until the last possible second before striking.

    She twirled 180 degrees and brought down her sword. It vibrated painfully in her hand as it struck against the long metal staff of her attacker. A silver helm, all-black clothing - she wasn’t sure who it was, but she knew what trouble looked like.

    “Looking for me?” Barnett brought the sword up and then to the side. The metal staff blocked a second blow, but the attacker was forced back. “Something I can do for you? Need some directions?” The captain was legendary with a sword, and followed up with two jobs. The attacker fell backwards onto her rear, dropping the staff.

    Barnett turned a second time to face another assailant. “You two need a better plan. I can hear your every step in these caves.” With one, two, and a third strike, she had knocked this second ebony-skinned woman away. She kept her sword drawn, moving back towards the cave entrance. “You know, if you wanted to play privately, we could’ve done it in my chambers. It’s way more fun there… though you’d probably end up just as sore!”

    She took one step backwards, then another. The two attackers were getting to their feet - their shiny black suits seemingly unblemished - and brandishing their staves.

    The captain was halfway to the entrance when she was finally captured. The ambient echoes of the cave had disguised it - whatever it was - and Barnett Peterson was taken by complete surprise when something small began winding its way around her legs. At first, she assumed it a cave-rat or bat. Looking down, she realized it was dispensing some thick and sticky ribbons - curious behavior indeed for some vermin.

    She tried to shoo the creature away, but it only increased in speed. She began to hop backwards, dropping her lantern and quickly tripping on an unseen ledge. The two attackers didn’t seem to have any such issues, navigating the pitch darkness as though they were born for it. Barnett swatted in the dark, trying to find the ribbon and unwrap her legs. There was time yet, she could be free, she could call for Marina-

    Something sticky covered her mouth. Reaching towards her face, she felt only another stranger layer of ribbons. She continued to struggle for half a minute further before she was well and totally stuck; a mummified little package of metallic blue ribbon, wrapped from her ankles to her mouth. Although she tried to get a glimpse of the strange little creature, she never had the chance. A second layer wound down her form, starting with her eyes and sealing them shut.

    The third attacker lept down from her disguised position, meeting the other two with a nod. The three visitors took Barnett in their arms and retrieved the hidden and similarly-cocooned Winters. The five of them disappeared in a green flash.

    ***

    A mixture of drowsiness and disorientation had kept Barnett’s head spinning. Minutes blurred into hours, broken by occasional periods of lucidity.

    “Never, ever use technology unless there is no other option.”

    “You two were both defeated by some barbarian with a sword.”

    “Oh, please - this one is supposed to be famously good with a sword. What were we supposed to do, tie her with rope?”

    “It would have been better than contaminating…”

    Soon, the heated discussion turned to white noise. A gentle rocking lulled Barnett to a dreamless sleep.

    ***

    “Do all your spells require a verbal component?”

    “Mmmph.”

    “Interesting.”

    Barnett wasn’t trying to cast anything - though she had tried to mumble a very serious curse. It was quite impossible given her situation.

    Regaining consciousness had been a brief but terrifying episode. She felt dispossessed of her body, unable to hear, see, or speak. She was unsure if she was alive or dead. It took a few moments, but she was able to ascertain that she was, without a doubt, still alive - but isolated. That was when she panicked. She experienced a profound discomfort at the thought of such solitude, and in her isolation the discomfort grew.

    It was in this state that her interrogation began; alone, restrained, and far from home.

    “Barnett Peterson; aged twenty-one. Captain of the Guard. Impressive resume, and I do mean that. Admittedly, not blessed or learned in the arcane arts - but that’s no crime.”

    She tried to curse a second time, but her words were translated to a pathetic grunt. A wad of cloth packed in her mouth worked alongside a thick leather panel that pressed against her lips; she was effectively silenced from her normal banter. The voice was unfamiliar to her, and a blindfold kept Barnett from spotting her interrogator.

    “Spellcaster or not, you’re quite the find. It wasn’t luck, not at all. My newly formed paranormal corps had spent weeks scrying for the perfect target. We had a vague vision that you’d be out looking for some poor commoner. Turns out that my drones were responsible for that very same commoner’s disappearance! I don’t quite understand the arcane mechanics responsible, but I suppose we could always acquire a scholar in the future.”

    “Fffrrmm-hhrrn?”

    The voice laughed. “Yes, the future. We’ll be going back to Temora, I can assure you. A world populated entirely by women? Not a single man? It boggles the mind! I mean, all that divine intervention probably helps, but still the logistics intrigue me. How much do you know about logistics, miss Barnett Peterson?”

    The blindfold was removed, and the voice had a face. It was another woman, but a strange one; dark hair, pale white skin, and bizarre clothing.

    “I’m sure you’ll tell me all about it once we get you processed. My name, by the way, is Phantom, and you belong to me.”

    Barnett was able to explore her surroundings for the first time. She was in a simple room with smooth walls. Windows were covered in thick curtains, though the sun passed through them all the same. A massive glass tube on the far wall was lit by strange-looking lanterns. A familiar fireplace took up one corner of the room.

    Feeling began to return, and the warrior took stock of her own body. All was intact - which was good - though her body from the neck down was sealed in… something. It was tight and cloying, and had strange lines of gold or silver varying nodes. It was so carefully measured to her body, it felt like a second skin. It certainly wasn’t, though; it was hot and squeaked terribly when she shifted her body. It appeared that while unconscious, she had been stripped of her clothing and strapped into a high-backed and thoroughly stiff chair; her arms buckled to the armrests and feet to the chair’s legs.

    “You’ve got quite the physique, Ms. Peterson. Enviable; nearly olympian. Plenty of individuals in this reality would sell their souls to have such a body. I mean that in every way.” The pale woman leaned over and began to unbuckle Barnett’s straps.

    Barnett acted with the speed and grace of an Amazonian agent. The second her arms and legs were free, she delivered a swift blow to her pale captor and followed it up with a kick. She spun around to build momentum, noting the odd squeak of her coating as her leg impacted the ghostly girl’s stomach. She spun and hit the ground, giving Barnett enough time to rip the panel-gag from her head. It hit the floor, and Barnett adopted a fighting pose. “You’ve got a strange fashion sense. It’s not very practical, though - you’d get along with my friend Marina. She’d run you through - but I plan on taking you out first.”

    The Amazonian’s eyes flitted around the room. She dove to the fireplace mantle and grabbed a dark metal poker. She twirled it in one hand; not as sturdy and nowhere as balanced as a blade, but enough to subdue her captor. She charged toward Phantom-

    “Lock.” Phantom uttered the command coldly as she rose to her feet.

    Barnett tumbled to the ground with a thud. She strained against her suit, which now rebelled against her. Her arms and legs were frozen in place, leaving her struggles as little more than oily squeaks against the floor.

    The captor picked her off the floor, eventually standing her up. The suit had left Barnett as little more than a dress-up manakin.

    “Just one of the reasons I decided to acquire you was your fighting spirit and physique. You’re quite the warrior. I can hardly imagine what you’ll be like when you serve me.” The captive grimaced slightly; Phantom was physically capable! She had carried her towards the cylinder like a sack of vegetables; one hand firmly on her curvy rear, the other around her ankles. The suited captive grunted slightly at the idle stroking of the domina’s fingers around her cheeks.

    Barnett spat back as she was moved toward the transparent glass cylinder. “You can’t break an Amazonian.” The cylinder slid open, and she found herself rough placed into its center. “You’re right - I’ll never truly break you,” Phantom said. “But I will bend you to my will such that it won’t matter.”

    She drove home this statement with a collar. It was tall, snug but padded against her neck, and composed of shining silver metal. Barnett practically hissed when Phantom clicked it in place.

    The tube closed again. She looked down at her body, and she was proud. Strong calves, powerful arms, fists that could knock out any bandit with one strike… but she saw only weakness, enclosed in a rubbery shell. The warrior didn’t have long to see it, though, as machinery began to descend from the top of the tube - wrapping her form in sticky, stretchy tape. It started around the top of her stomach and descended lower, creating stripes that bound her in place.

    The bright red ribbons seemed almost identical to the strange little entity that had captured her - that had rendered her so very helpless. With only her head mobile, she thrashed her neck left and right. If she couldn’t escape, she could make it unpleasant; she’d force the machine to restart, or maybe throw it off its process.

    “Tsk tsk, Ms. Peterson,” said Phantom. “You’re trying to ruin your wrapping. It’s such a festive, fun part of the process; you should enjoy it!” She raised her hands, shrugged, and sighed. “Another layer, then.”

    Unpleasant as it was, this threat was enough to ensure compliance. Once the machine finished its first round, it reset to begin a second on Phantom’s orders. Barnett remained still this time, gritting her teeth as the wrapping contraption went down her body a second time. A second layer of red tape covered the first; wider this time to disguise the off-center blemishes. It left gaps, and the result was a series of black-and-red stripes from her breasts to her ankles. It kept her arms or legs from flailing, and it was enough to keep her calibrated for her shell.

    Barnett looked at her feet. A gold ring that circled in tube’s interior began to rise, bringing with it a thin sheet of ebony encasement.

    “Your techsuit is designed to monitor and react to your physique. It monitors everything from the beating of your heart to your secretions of sweat, and takes care of both. It’s our all-in-one solution to problems that arise during long-term enclosure. You probably don’t remember, but we took the liberty of sealing you in it while you slept.” Phantom giggled. “Try and stay awake next time. It’s fun.”

    “Fun!?” Barnett shot.

    “Well… it’s fun for me. I like making sure all the nodes and devices are linked properly. It’s very satisfying when it all comes together and you’re sealed inside. Although it’s theoretically removable, it’s not really designed for it. Besides, once you’ve been processed, you’ll be wearing it all the time regardless. Why not leave it on forever? It fits you so well.”

    Still looking at her feet, she had time to notice various diodes and lines on the suit light up.

    “The tape… hm. Well, that’s mostly for fun. I like the black-and-red, and even if you can’t see it, you know it’s there. Think of all that tape as a reminder of who calls the shots. Even if you were out of your bag, you still wouldn’t be able to do anything other than wriggle around like a worm.”

    Something in that sentence made Barnett raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean shell?”

    Phantom tapped the glass. “Why, the shell! The thick smart-latex wrap to enclose you! It’s durable, unbreakable, and designed to practically mold to your techsuit. The wrap goes to your neck and mates with that collar. The seal is practically airtight; perfect for preserving permanent prisoners like yourself.”

    She wasn’t exaggerating; the ring raise up to Barnett’s neck, bringing with it a single sheet of black latex. The ring shrank and mated with the collar, leaving her in a stretchy black bag. A few seconds later, it began to shrink.

    The wrap became tight against her flesh. Outlines of her gorgeous features were visible through her impossible bondage. It was so tight in spots that the seams of her tech-suit were visible, or the lines where the tape had been applied, or her severely-encased and pert breasts.

    A hiss of air, and the glass tube retracted, leaving Barnett heavily sealed and stuck in place. Phantom circled her like a buzzard circling prey - but rather than observing, she was exploring. Phantom ran her fingers up and down the Amazonian’s form; her rear, her exquisite thighs, her lovely chest, the small of her back. She took a generous handful of the woman’s packed and sealed bust. Reflexively, Barnett snarled - though it was tempered, now. The strange chemical scents, the bright lights, and now the soft and knowing hand of her captor on her breasts was all highly disorienting. Though dampened by the thick medium that bound her, she could still feel her captor’s fingers as she pinched and pecked; could still feel the palm of her hand as she ran it over her curves.

    Phantom leaned in to Barnett’s ear, and whispered. Hot breath ran against the nape of her neck. “You can have all this, and more.”

    Barnett craned her head, trying to connect eyes with her captor. Phantom dodged out of sight left, then right. “I still don’t understand you goal. Are you trying to seduce me? Get me to spill secrets on my home country? Hypnotize me?”

    “Miss Peterson…” Phantom was tugging on her hair, forcing her head back. Barnett yelped at the sudden jolt of sensation. It was a power-play, through and through - Phantom pulling at her hair and daintily folding her bob-cut into a bun behind her head. “All of that, and more.” She finished her sentence just as she locked her hairstyle in place.

    Phantom prepared Barnett for her final encasement. A golden circlet went around her head, accompanied by a pair of gold earrings. She explained something to do with ‘neural activity’ and ‘projected sensations,’ but Barnett didn’t quite comprehend what they did until the demonstration. The devil-woman seemed to wave her fingers, and Barnett’s body was overcome with ghostly sensations.

    She looked down and saw no hands or tentacles or devices on her, but she felt all of those and more. Sucking, teasing, touching, licking, thick and strong hands on her flesh - pulling and pushing and spanking across her body, and seeking out her erogenous zones. She felt penetration and sudden intimacy. She was stretched slightly as imagined protrusions entered her real womanhood. It elicited a gasp. Barnett gritted her teeth at the assault on her senses. Phantom grinned - the battle was on.

    “We won’t always be teasing you so. Sometimes, you’ll be placed in isolation. Sometimes, you’ll be touched with very real hands. The sensations don’t need to be real for them to bring you joy; whether it’s an illusory trick of the mind or my own hand teasing at your chest, it gets the job done. Soon enough, you’re going to beg for more molestation, to moan in anguish without the touch of your loving mistress. Oh, and although we’ve sealed you up, you’ll probably be taken out at times for re-education or training.”

    Phantom punctuated her sentence by pulling her hair back once more and planting a kiss on Barnett’s neck. “You’re really cute as a pillow, but you’ll be much better as an elite operative.”

    It was either intimidation or bravado and probably both, but it was working. Barnett felt nervous for the first time in a long time. She really was trapped; stuck in three layers and probably more to come, wrapped in a suit she couldn’t control and locked in place. The overkill bondage was too tight to ever escape alone… and this Phantom character clearly had big plans for her.

    She must have revealed a glimpse of her emotions with her facial expression. Phantom reacted with a grin and an attempt at ‘comforting’ her, stroking Barnett’s head with one hand.

    Then, with both hands, she slipped something over Barnett’s head, and all the world went dark. Phantom slid a thick neoprene hood over her captive’s face, sliding it past her nose and eyes and ears. Internal attachments quickly found their marks. Barnett felt soft plugs intruding in her ears. A tiny tube passed between her lips and began filling her mouth with a quickly-hardening gel. Goggles slid over her eyes and flickered with light.

    Reality fell away as the lenses projected an endless stream of soft and ambient light. Gentle colors took on abstract shapes, occasionally coalescing into the curvy forms of humans. The earplugs began an endless cavalcade of soft music interspersed with the low, sultry voice of the pale woman.

    “You’re in my world now, Ms. Peterson - and I mean that in every conceivable way.”

    The hood mated with the collar, completing the champion’s skin tight enclosure. Phantom sighed. She was going to be a masterpiece.

    ***

    The Captain of the Guard soon stood watch in the front of Phantom’s office; it had been far too long since they acquired such a trophy.

    A rigid, golden shell was the final prescription for her new champion. Barnett’s sacked form was locked into the case, one which ran from the bottom of her neck to her toes. It kept her upright and prevented visitors from taking out any urges on her… as long as she was so encased. Phantom was already contemplating removing her from her nigh-permanent suit and sack for training.

    Any training would be a long way off. Until then, her case was decorated in the finest fashion Phantom could imagine. Elaborate runes and inlays inscribed made her look like a fine piece of furniture, or an elaborate vase; gold trim across the white design made her a radiant trophy indeed.

    The very last item was a mask. Its porcelain-white features depicted Barnett’s face in quiet contemplation - eyes closed, mouth in a content smile, and features relaxed. It made her into a serene statue of the highest pedigree.

    Inside her prison, she grimaced and groaned and chewed on the gag that filled her mouth. She was trapped in an endless cycle of orgasm and denial, isolation and stimulation… and it had only been a few hours. The case rocked slightly as the sensations climaxed.

    Voices inside her ears would tell her to submit, to obey, to give in to pleasure and pain, and to worship her new mistress. She resisted them as best she could, hoping she wouldn’t have to wait long for rescue or release. It was so heavenly, Barnett worried release would come too late - too long after her willpower had given way. Reflecting on her situation only caused further worry. She was permanently packed into some sort of black suit, wrapped and packed as the plaything of some vile, wicked woman that wanted her broken and mewling. And she was already mewling…

    Barnett heard a voice crackle in her ears.

    “Ms. Peterson, I just wanted you to know - you think you’re isolated, you’re worried you’ll be forgotten. But don’t worry, Ms. Peterson - you’re not rotting in some dungeon. You’re right where you need to be, surrounded by new friends…”

    Phantom sipped a cup of coffee and browsed over a map of Temora. She stood up from her desk and went to the hallway. Grunts and mewls from the Guard could be heard. It sounded like Barnett was having fun.

    Phantom placed a hand on the back of her hooded head.

    “...and I’ll always be there for you.”