Two guards saluted Aurora. Their visors were black mirrors polished to an impeccable shine. Overseer Aurora nodded, and they returned to attention with a characteristic polymer squeak. Elegant uniforms of rich purple and goldenrod mated with the sublime black of their hoods and helmets.
She thought for a moment if she wanted them here. Maybe it would add a thrill to keep them as a captive audience. She relented.
“You two are relieved. Monitor the brig remotely.”
They nodded with the same orderly attitude as they had with the salute. Aurora waited until they had departed and entered the jail after she’d heard the hiss of the heavy door.
Cell One had just one person in it - Aurora, of course. The other entity inside it wasn’t a person. It was her own personal property - booty of the Dominion. Thick orange and black rubber restrained by gleaming steel waited within a small plastic prison.
Aurora closed the door behind her. It locked with an audible k-chnk. The prisoner shifted, straining to analyze the room’s new occupant. Aurora’s blue lips turned to a wicked grin as she stared at her booty.
The Directrix had been a petty warlord, but she was a far better trophy in Aurora’s care. Her pale white skin was completely hidden from the world; her black hair covered by a thick hood. The high-tech polymers made certain that not a millimeter of flesh was visible. She was utterly anonymous, and sublimely helpless.
The rubber-like smart material that was standard issue for Dominion uniforms had been replicated with only minor changes for the prisoner jumpsuits. The nanotubes that drew air through the suit for cooling and heat regulation were stiffened. It was imperceptible visually, but wearing the suit felt heavier and more restrictive. Movements took more energy. The thick rubber had the side effect of making a much more pleasing sound when smacked, spanked, or flogged.
Every jumpsuit was a tangerine orange outfit with black trim. A harness around the shoulders and chest framed a white bar for identification. Black trim drew the eye naturally around the prisoner’s breasts and waist. A very high collar, also black, ran to the top of the neck where it mated with the hood. From the knees down, the leggings were also a jet black.
The gloves as well had a “fingerless” look, in that the orange ended around the digits so as to make a prisoner’s jumpsuit more distinctive in the event of escape. Of course, this prisoner wasn’t allowed to use her hands; thick black rubber mittens looped around and secured her wrists.
Aurora had watched a prisoner helplessly scrabble at door panels or chastity belts, fruitlessly jamming their mittened hands in rather pathetic escape attempts. But this particular prisoner was of such high value that simply letting them stew in a cell would have been unacceptable. True, there were countermeasures in the suit. Every black region could be targeted for immobilization - freezing or fingers or the neck when necessary to slow a prisoner for retrieval. However, the Overseer’s exotic tastes meant that even these restraints would simply not be enough to keep her prize properly displayed.
Phantom’s mittened forearms were stuck in a silver metal pillory, with her wrists kept in front of her neck and head. If she was permitted sight, she’d be able to look at her hobbled hands trapped before her. She wasn’t given the luxury, though.
As fun as it was to look at a captive in the eyes, keeping the captive completely anonymous was practical. The last thing that the Overseer wanted was anyone coming to free their Directrix. The orange hood went was “faceless” in that the front section - where one would expect to see the face of the captive - was a reflective and faceless black.
The captive had been seated on a small stool in the center of the room. Aurora circled her once before pulling up alongside her. She massaged the prisoner’s shoulders.
“Enjoying yourself, Phantom?”
“Mmmnfgh.”
The hood was so thick and tight that she could hardly be heard. Aurora laughed, firmly rubbing away at the tension in the orange-suited trophy’s back.
“So, you like it?”
The Directrix tried to shake her head, but the pillory restricted her movement. Aurora grabbed her smooth, hooded head and gently nodded it forward.
“Yes? Glad you do. It’s to your specifications, after all.”
The overseer tapped a few keys on the pillory and it released the captive’s wrists. Aurora easily maneuvered them to her waist, where glowing pink bands of energy kept them chained against her chastity belt.
“How many times did you dream of this? A prisoner in heavy rubber, hopelessly outmatched in - in, well, just about every way.”
Aurora leaned in. She took in every little grunt and moan like the aroma of a fine wine.
Her hands run up and down her quarry’s body, starting from the top and ending around her waist. She was warm. The rubber made the Directrix seem so pristine, so perfectly packaged. Her hands gravitated towards her chest, and she generously groped her slave from behind. A pinch to her teat elicited a higher-pitched mewling sound.
“I wonder… do you know who this is? Maybe you recognize my voice, but all that rubber might make it kind of hard. Here’s a hint.”
The blue-haired overseer leaned in forward, placing a hand on Phantom’s neck. She rubbed it gently, teasing at her erogenous zone. A gloved hand worked her way up to her chin, firmly grasping her back against Aurora’s stomach. 
Aurora let her fingers run up and down the facial features of her toy. She could make out gagged lips, tightly sealed as to prevent any biting. A nose, two eyes, high cheekbones and her forehead. All hers; this face didn’t even belong to poor Phantom. It belonged to Aurora, to hide or to show as she saw fit. Aurora’s gloved thumb teased at Phantom’s gagged lips for a moment. She leaned down, taking Phantom’s wrists in her hands. She knelt and oh-so-gently nibbled at her prize’s neck.
The sounds were musical. Sweet melodies of moans came from within. Aurora stepped to her captive’s front and leaned again. The little thing was so much shorter than her; Aurora’s physique alone made The Directrix seem like a toy. Which, of course, she was.
“Now, I asked you earlier if you were enjoying yourself…”
The Overseer planted a long kiss on Phantom’s gagged and sealed lips. She lifted her out of the chair, treating her like a toy, and pressed her against the wall. The tiny dictator moaned, grinding her thighs together and heaving deep, lusty breaths in and out. Their bodies touched, chest against chest. The Directrix was a latex-laminated pet in Aurora’s arms.
“I think I have my answer.”