The distinctive whine of a physical disk that  was spinning a bit too fast was so annoyingly *perceptible.* Rossem's  dagger-shaped ears could detect such abnormalities long before the  average human would know anything was wrong. Waiting for the song of his  machinery to whimper, and its singer to choke. The process would be a  failure.

A  crescendo, and then a denouement. The server, computer equipment, the  fabricator; they went dark. His project remained unfinished. His next  concoction was a dangerous aphrodisiac, airborne and all but  undetectable. The simulations required to bring it from the digital to  the physical world were simply too much for his equipment.

The  elf placidly placed his black, shining boot on an old server. It was  completely dark. A push tilted the device, then sent it tumbling down.  He shrugged. It was time for an upgrade.

His  inbox bubbled over with all the ingredients of adventure, espionage,  malice, and the noisome appeal of money. Diverse offers of mercenary  work each proffered their own distinct flavor. Rossem found one with a  notable bitterness.

ELIMINATION CLIENT: "MR. JOHNSON" Neutralize the MirageCorp executive "PHANTOM." Ensure she is permanently removed from public view.  PAYMENT: ₠20,000

He  stared at images of the target. Something akin to nostalgia twanged at  his heart. A glance at the heap of old tech was all he needed to accept  the job.

***

Every  step that the gasmancer took was quiet and practiced. He daintily  stepped between smashed bits of security devices, tapping his boot heels  between the remnants of drones. The fore of his foot carefully avoided  every slick and shard of shrapnel as he circled Phantom’s desk.

Phantom  was completely still. She wasn’t sure why. It was a great effort to  keep breathing. Some primal part of her brain, some unevolved organic  splinter that had broken. She couldn’t flee, and she couldn’t fight - so  Phantom sat, heart racing, barely moving a muscle.

She  understood the cause. There was a predator in her room, pacing and  circling its prey. The logical part of her brain calculated every  possible outcome. The primitive matter told her that if she stayed absolutely still, then the predator in the room wouldn’t see her.

Clearly, Rossem had seen  her. Her office was a mess. Corrosive gas and smoke still lingered. He  fingered a grenade around his belt, circling it and speaking of untold  possibilities.

At  the same time, he wordlessly played with a knife, all the while staring  at Phantom. He made her sweat. He made her quiver. She knew how lethal  he could be. Rossem flashed the silver of the blade towards her, letting  her see her own strained face in its mirrored reflection.

Not a word. Not even a squeak of his thick rubber suit.

He  circled her again. She could swear that he was smiling. Phantom felt  dizzy. Her breathing was cold, heavy - as if oxygen was growing rarer.  The air had been sucked out of the room, figuratively and perhaps  literally. He finished another lap around her desk. She still couldn’t  even bring herself to squirm.

Phantom  inhaled. Rossem reciprocated by taking a seat on the corner of her  desk. A gloved hand reached out for her chin. For inspection.

It  was a strong, powerful grasp. Phantom tried to look away, but he gently  maneuvered her head towards his. A bead of sweat dripped from her  forehead, missing the elf’s completely rubber-clad arms.

The  taste of his rubber glove was scintillating. She’d almost say that its  acrid, industrial aroma was sweet. His thumb ran over Phantom’s lips and  fingers her neck. He traced at her erogenous, exposed flesh like a  butcher. She didn’t realize that he’d brought his knife to her clothes. A  quick motion snipped away buttons, letting her coat fall open.

Phantom’s mouth was open. The audacity was enough to make her protest. She broke from her stunned reverie to angrily lecture him. No noise came from her mouth.

He  brought the knife to her face, using its pommel to gently close her  mouth. Phantom’s eyes flitted through the room. She couldn’t move.  Rossem wiped a gloved hand on her cheek. For effect, he did it again,  leaving tiny metallic flakes visible on her desk. She stared at the  magnetic powder now strewn throughout the office. She’d been inhaling it  for minutes now, shorting out her body and making her practically  helpless.

The  elf slammed a large travel suitcase on the desk. Phantom was stunned  enough to yelp, but she lacked the bodily control to do so. He motioned  his hand luridly across the case. Your carriage awaits, he seemed to say.

You’re insane if you think I’m going to get in that bag, she thought.

The noise that came out was a barely audible mewl.

Rossem  had no trouble disrobing her, and gently placing Phantom’s nude and  servile form inside the case. She didn’t have a mirror, but she knew  that she was blushing.

Gloved  hands ran all along her body as she was stripped and posed. The  gasmancer was an artist, in his own way. She relished the strictness and  careful control he exhibited. She cherished the feeling of his warm  rubber-clad body against her as he picked her up and hauled her fetal  form inside the case.

With  a mercenary wink, he patted the target’s cheek twice and lowered a  layer of latex over the executive’s form. The vacuum-packing process  only took a few seconds, though Phantom paid close attention to every  moment. His glove on her cheek was soon followed by immense pressure and utter immobility. White skin disappeared, covered by a black layer that hid her away from the world.

He  casually sealed the room, sliced open a hole in the window, and began  to exfiltrate from Phantom’s office. Rossem acted like he had nowhere to  go, and was in no great hurry to exit with his new package. He lowered  her case down on a rope, occasionally rubbing against the class. He  wanted to remind her that if she struggled too much, she might have a  small accident as he dropped her.

The  vac-sealed Phantom could survive without oxygen, but the pressure - and  pleasure - was so immense that she was in danger of passing out.  Incredible heat and inconceivable tightness left her a hot and bothered  mess. Her airless, vac-sealed latex prison proved too much, and she  passed out.

***

Phantom woke up moaning.

The executive huffed as her shout transformed into a long, low exhalation followed by pants as she regained her breath.

She  was kneeling, arms bound, legs bound, clothed. Phantoms ghostly white  body was ensconced by a black latex catsuit that covered her from her  neck to her toes. She squirmed left and right. Rubbery squeaks echoed  over her body. She was wearing her normal attire over the skintight  suit. Her boots were buckled and coat was buttoned; were it not for the  bindings, she’d feel entirely at home.

Both  of her wrists were coated in latex mittens - keeping her from flexing  her fingers - and buckled at the small of her back with carefully  crafted shackles.

The  captive had been forced to kneel, jutting her breasts - carefully  cupped by the suit and snug beneath her costume - out in front of her,  sitting on her rear and calves. A bit more squirming told her that her  legs, too, were bound, with her wrist-cuffs trapped against them.

Her shut her eyes, trying to concentrate on the bonds, to analyze her situation, to feel the latex against her skin.

Nothing  changed. She could still see the darkened room around her. She tried  again. She didn’t understand. Was she in another simulation? A beam of  light helped to elucidate her situation as the door opened and the  gasmancer entered.

He  was all confidence and professionalism. A powerful, slim form rippled  beneath tight latex. He still wore the gas mask. It gave him an  intimidating and alien presence. He was humming to himself as he entered  the room and turned on a desk light.

“Good morning,” he said. “Are you feeling recharged?”

Phantom tried to speak, but her lips wouldn’t move and sound wouldn’t form.

“Ah. Silly me.”

Rossem tapped Phantom’s cheek, and she opened her mouth.

“Your  lips and gums were coated with a nice polymer sheathe. It gives your  lips a very attractive black latex look, too. The coating goes all the  way down, by the way. If you need to be silenced, I can do it remotely.  But don’t worry. Your mouth is still useful.”

Phantom’s open mouth whimpered slightly. She could feel herself salivating.

“Those  black contact lenses look a bit eerie. Maybe I’ll just give you a nice  visor to show you things as well. They’re quite nice for getting  messages across. For example, you’re mine now. It’s going to be an  interesting experience being my server.”

Phantom tilted her head. “Huungh?”

“Tsk,  you should understand by now.” Rossem pulled over a rolling desk chair  and took a seat in it just breath away from Phantom’s restrained form.  He ran a gloved hand through her hair. “I thought you were a technology  executive? No? More of a business type? I will make it clear for you.

That  simulation I gave you was truthful. You’re too valuable to simply kill.  It would be a tragic waste; a sad thing to lose one like you. I am  bound by my contract, and I will see it through. You’re going to be my  server. Unfortunately, I have a habit of being a bit too creative for my  old technology. Too many good ideas for the old model to understand.”

He  wheeled in closer. She suddenly felt paralyzed, unable to do anything  but gently squirm in the cloying latex and stare at him. Even when she  blinked, she still saw his face - his piercing eyes - and smelled the  pungent odor of latex and masculine musk. He held one hand on her head,  and another stroked her chin. She blushed, and then he gently inserted  his thumb between her lips.

“Luckily,  you’re a bit more creative. You can hold a nice conversation, even if  right now you’re a bit quiet. Your augmented brain can hold and process  designs, concepts, and keep it organized as well. That fantasy program?  Your entombment? While that was running, I was using your brain-power to  help generate delicious new poisons and aerosols. You’ll have to try  one of them out sometime.”

Phantom  couldn’t help but gently fellate his thumb, rubbing her tongue and  restrained lips against it. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew he  was grinning.

“Ahh…  good. I made a few modifications while you were sleeping. A barcode on  your tongue, in case you get lost or escape. But I don’t think you’ll  want to leave… ever.”

 Phantom groaned. It was loud and staccato.

“Hngh-hhng! Hnngh-gung! Ggnngh!” 

He  withdrew his thumb, running his hands down her head as she groaned in  resistance. His fingers teased over her chest, stroking at her teats  with his thumbs as he felt her svelte form. Rossem unbuttoned her coat,  snapping one of the buttons off of it and showing it to her.

“I  made some changes to your costume as well. Eventually, I’ll have to  take off those lenses and unbind you. But you still need to be useful. Your costume features a few chips to help me keep you in remote control. Consider it a gift.”

He  placed the button against her forehead. It adhered, and Phantom groaned  again. A warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her body.

“Every  time I create a new file, that lovely sensation will grow. Perhaps  you’ll forget all about your other fears and worries, lost in the  sweetness that I provide.”

 Phantom groaned again; this time, protesting louder. She shook slightly, railing against her rubber bonds and squeaking.

Rossem  responded by subtly tapping a few keys on a nearby keyboard. Phantom’s  lensed eyes flashed with information as data seeped into her brain.  Images of her as a shining, coated goddess flashed before her eyes.

Sounds  of her own moaning penetrated deep into her ears. The lenses flashed  images of her bound, gagged, used; possibilities as a toy for the  gasmancer’s pleasure.

“Hunnnngh! Hnng-hhhhngh!”

More  images, more sounds, more sensations. He was touching her gently,  letting her suckle at his glove. His fingers played over her  latex-coated flesh.

“Hhn-hhngh….”

A glowing barcode flashed around her womb, indicating her proof as a slave and object for his utility.  Information flowed from old, dead servers into her brain. She was  overloaded with sights and sounds and sensations. She rode it to climax.

“...Nnng…”

Rossem  stared at his new rack. She’d already experienced the first of many  planned orgasms and was approaching her second. He stood up from his  desk, taking her soft, moaning head between his hands. He rubbed his  manhood against her face, hearing powerful moans and vibrations as she  eagerly snuggled up against his bulge. Then he withdrew, saving his work  and copying the next wave of designs and simulations to his new device.

The distinctive whine of a physical disk that  `was spinning a bit too fast was so annoyingly *perceptible.* Rossem's  dagger-shaped ears could detect such abnormalities long before the  average human would know anything was wrong. Waiting for the song of his  machinery to whimper, and its singer to choke. The process would be a  failure.