The feeling of lubricated steel entering Phantom was just as much a coup d'etat as execution by blade.
She mouthed off with a loud and lusty sound; her mouth was wide, her head pulled back slightly, and the sound was quite pleasant. Starting high and going higher, Phantom's response to the plugs was exactly the sound one might make when enjoying a massage too much.
Phantom regained her composure quickly. She pursed her lips for a moment, licking them. She clicked her tongue. She was sitting up as straight as she could. Posture and all that. For a brief moment, she narrowed her eyes, and had a last flare as her scuttled ship began to sink. Her voice was lower, huskier, and utterly confident.
"Taking what you covet can be dangerous,” before pursing her lips into a smile - unsure if it was real or forced.
Constance gave an eager, manic smile as she pulled Phantom up fully onto her knees, raising up the item and pulling down the nylon hood. Simple enough, the material clingy and tight as it pulled down and was cinched on a some internal catches at the neck of the straitjacket. With a final tug, she left her alone with the seemingly benign item.
"Synthex. Curious material with even more curious potentials and uses. Months ago I came across it's creator and made her an offer she just couldn't refuse."
As she spoke, the material tightened like someone pulled it tight over Phantom's face, forcing her jaw tight and squeezing her face as it seemed to undulate. Constance had picked up another item and was coming back over. The sound and odor of more rubber and polish was heavier as she situated behind the masked woman.
"That pretty hood you have on is currently finding all the measurements, angles, nooks, cranies, muscular abnormalities and anything else I need and uploading them to this."
Through the nylon, a rubber hood with a flared out section from the neck. The material was running like molten wax. Like her gloves, but forming far more efficiently and with uploaded data somehow. Even though the color of the material was black, the dimensions were hard to mistake, especially when they're your own. A rubber hood in the perfect shape of Phantom's face with softly pursed lips stared back through the nylon mask.
At first, Phantom imagined herself bagged up like a prisoner for transport, and she leaned forward and lowered her head, feeling the smooth, sheer feeling of the fabric mated to her jacket. Surely this was just to humiliate her.
The sudden squeeze elicited a yelp as the synthex hood rippled against her face. Neutral nylon stretched slightly as Phantom realized that she was slowly undulating herself - gently shaking her head 'no' in quiet repose.
The hood almost looked like a death masque, and made the CEO's heart sink. It was a far cry from a magazine cover. It almost distracted her from the mention of Natasha. Almost.
"I can hear your heartbeat pick up. You're going to go and get me excited getting all worked up like that.
Did I touch a nerve, luring that darling set of tits over into greener pastures? Was there animosity? Vitriol? Maybe just pure anger?"
She made sure every word was a poison barb that she stuck into her squirming captive while lifting the hood and guiding it down over the synthex-clad cranium.
The material slid down, minor adjustments in the sizing, tightness and thickness tickling the skin through the under-hood as she secured the shoulder flaps to sections across the shoulders on the jacket.
The pieces seemed to all come together, prepared in piecemeal to become whole once more. Firm, strong hands ran over the material; not to adjust like a normal mask. The rubber did that entirely on its own; Constance was simple caressing her new dolly, and the sound of contentment could be heard.
"That sharp tongue of yours is going to stay nice and still behind those rubber-sealed lips. When you learn to communicate properly with your eyes, maybe you'll get it back."
Her heartbeat was going faster. She couldn't pretend it wasn't. It's one thing to anticipate your fate; it's another to see it custom-made before your very eyes. Arcane and eldritch craft to make a hood so tight it may as well have been her face.
Phantom's shaking of "no" became more vigorous as the mask gained shape and substance. The pungent odor of impending doom was intermingled with a growing awareness of Valdara's scent. Phantom's olfaction was wholly taken up by an increasing restriction and the woman who was bringing it upon her. It meant that focusing on anything else was difficult.
She tried; a few counting tricks, a few high-level tools to stay sharp even under duress or interrogation. Neither helped. Both had been written for a more mundane captor. Valdara's steady hand kept her head still enough to lock on the hood, and to create a beautiful and immense pressure all across her visage. Or what was her visage.
After all, Phantom's 'face' was gloss; pure, unblemished, and unworried with thoughts of disobedience. The doctor's fingers traced over pert lips and cheeks. Every femtosecond was catalogued by the synthex layer, as well as Phantom - who had never, ever been this aware of every sensation on her flesh before…
Constance's lips brushed past her rubberized ones, and the sensation of warm breath felt...wrong. Transferred, but not real; simulated through the thick rubber.
Phantom reciprocated the kiss. It was reflex, training, and curiosity. She wondered, idly, if Constance could feel her pressing back; the feeling of lips on lips, separated by thick layers of coating, but not enough to filter out the cruel passion that the doctor had imparted. She had a new sound as the rubber coated her toes, as her captors words echoed in her head, as she imagined - this - all this.
It was a whimper - just one, but one that she hoped the doctor didn't hear. It wasn't a pitiable whimper; it was the sound of a fairy tale come true, or a shocking twist, or of astonishment that where she was going was somewhere glossy, black, and servile.
Dr. Valor broke the kiss with her first real, genuine smile in months.
"It's only been one minute. Imagine one month."
She let Phantom hear the soft giggle at the end of her words. The mask was still syncing as she moved again, now crossing the room back and forth bringing items. As the first one arrived, Phantom's 'eyelids' closed gently and refused to open.
"No peaaaaking!"
Warm liquid like tar poured down and across slender legs. With closed eyes, it was impossible to tell what or even how - considering previous methods of rubberization. The material had a much simpler task than what went on with the jacket and soon, Phantom's legs were a pair of glossy limbs from toe to torso; the material had even pressed under the chastity belt, ensuring a proper seal.
"We're certainly getting somewhere now, dolly."
Phantom’s soft whimper was a shot of dopamine through her brain as her fingers trailed from cheeks down to her folded arms. Constance gripped them at the elbow, lifting the woman easily to her feet and steadying her as she marveled at her work so far.
"People say pursuing perfection will lead to madness. They clearly have never seen you. And they never will."
Constance's hand palmed the small of the woman's back and took hold of her glossy thigh; lifting the leg and bringing it forward and down into the opening of the boots placed moments ago. The material undulated as it was stretched and measured it's new owner. Her foot forced down the more she pressed down till slotting into the en pointe boot toes.
A shifted hand and another lifted leg brought the second foot home to it's boot. She sighed gently, and with that sound Phantom's eyes opened. The layer of nylon had free'd, but only from her eyes as the office became visible once more.
"Now, let's see if one particularly scandalous rumor is true...you're going to walk to..."
She turned the CEO so that she could see her desk about 50 feet away.
"There. You're going to turn, and you're going to walk back. I've been dying to know just how true this little bit is."
It felt good to feel felt - even if it was the malign claws of a cruel doctor who held her close in her grasp. Running warm hands down Phantom's body meant enjoying the gentle struggles she made in her straitjacket, and touching those sensitive zones along her neck.
Even without the synthex, two layers wasn't enough to keep her from cooing at the stroke. Another huff, and she was getting to her feet. What other choice did she have? Rejection at this point would only bring trouble. Simply sitting down like a petulant child would do neither of them any favors.
Standing up still meant feeling the metal plugs shifting within her, and she ground her legs together - briefly- as she got to her feet, and began the threatening - but not inelegant - march towards the desk…
The buzzing was slow, but insistent when the first three steps clicked across - first in her nethers, then the slow inflation of the plug in her rear.
"Remember dear, nowhere in my instructions was there place or space for you to pause until you reach the desk."
Phantom could hear it since she didn't mask it - she was aware of the building sensations between her legs but did nothing to address it. Another three steps and the plug in her rear buzzed to life and the plug in her nethers slowly inflated.
From behind, Constance stood with arms crossed and her stance firm. She was observing, calculating, analyzing...and enjoying.
"Well well well, so the rumor true! Hardly your first time walking in ballet boots, much less in heavy bondage and with some friends."
The third step and she started to feel those lubricated plugs starting to undulate, teasing, prodding, groping, buzzing, stretching. She was trying her best not to slow, but she stumbled. Slowed, but didn't pause, as she realized she was grinding like she was trying to scratch an itch she realized she couldn't itch.*
A pair of clicking boots matched and then increased the Director’s steps, coming beside her and letting a riding crop spin in a slow circle at her side as she arrived at the desk, opting for a front view.
”Ah this is a delight. To think I had a half-dozen meetings to go through. Best decision I made to cancel them for the greatest show on earth.”
She halted the turn of the crop, just as it planted against those rubber lips. Curiously, as she had gotten closer, the buzzing and inflating had decreased. Once at the desk, it had stopped entirely.
”Mmm, I swear I saw your hips roll a little there. Humping the air are we? Let’s see if that happens again. Back to your starting spot Dolly.”
"Mmf." A pert little sound of recognition as the crop nosed her. Phantom huffed. The lack of buzzing didn't make her forget the toys she was riding, but it did let her catch her breath, and gave her time to think about what kind of show she was giving.
Phantom was making new sounds, now. They weren't unpleasant, but they weren't entirely neutral, they were almost communicative. Somewhere between a plead, a whine, and a grunt came the 'mewl' sounds she made as she marched back.
She couldn't help it. Hopefully, the difficulty of the boots could be an excuse. Just the difficulty of the tremendous challenge.
Like clockwork. Three steps in; her nethers buzzed and her rear felt fuller. Six steps in; her mergers started to feel stuffed and her rear buzzed. She couldn’t see Constance’s eyes boring into her, but she did wander if she felt it amidst the other sensations.
”The further you are from me, the stronger that gets.”
There hadn’t been a single sound. Even the machinery in the plugs failed to register the impossible translation of position for a few moments before lowering back to normal levels.
”That’s level two you felt, and already you were grinding like a catholic schoolgirl after her first glimpse of a particularly phallic statue.”
She brought her hand up, palming one of those heavy, glossy cheeks and pulled her into a standing embrace.
”Just think; if you landed on this pretty backside or on your front, you’d be spending the next 13 hours learning just how intensive human pony training could be. Do you recall your visit to Brussels, that little farm? The thighs on those girls in the fields....”
Her hand dropped from cheek to thigh, tightening her grip the lower she went. Her hand around your waist slid up, taking your chin and guiding you back to the sight of the open silo.
”Lucky you for doing so well.”
Fuller. Filled up. People weren't filled or plugged. That was what happened to objects; tanks, toys, dolls.
Those mewling sounds became huffs for air as she got farther and farther from Constance... and then closer. She was so fast. Was she human at all, or just a being of lust and puissance that had taken the form of Dr. Valor?
The generous grope of Phantom's rear was entirely pleasant. Obviously, there was the knowledge that she was beneath two layers of custom-made skintight enclosure, but she also has a pleasant girth. A body that, like much of the creation of Constance, had been custom-made to please.
There was just enough 'grab' to really enjoy it, while still enough muscle to feel her flexing in reaction as a wide pair of thighs felt the same professional hands. "Mmmmngggh?" She reacted with a certain uncertainty. Perhaps she was asking for a reward, or maybe just responding with a quiet plead.
Valor cooed into her ear, still holding onto her new dolly possessively. Covetously. The word elicited a former squeeze of rear and jaw.
”That’s the sweetest language of dolls. The gentle, intelligible groans and moans. The soft huffs as your ass finally feels like it isn’t being split open and you can stop feeling your teeth buzz from vibrators in your sex.”
She let go of her doll’s rear, bringing her hand up and showing her a pair of rubber welder’s goggles. Tube-like siding to enclose the eyes and a thick rubber strap with an additional strap going over the top of the wearer’s skull.
”But good dolls don’t have to do laps on the track in all this heavy rubber. Good dolls get rewards.” She took the goggles, flexing the straps with her fingers and sliding the items over her rubber head, letting out a soft moan of her own as she heard rubber squeak against rubber. The goggles fitted into place - and Phantom’s vision was gone. Blacked out, completely in the dark. Both lenses were more oblique than just the dark - it felt unnatural.
It was so relaxing that it made her realize that she'd been so foolish as to literally moan and mewl and squirm for Constance! While marching! That hot breath. The words in her ear. The powerful voice. The sensation of fingers on her face, of the goggles locking on and tightening and isolating and... it was enough to make her well and truly forget where she was. The darkness wasn't the absence of light - it was darkness. She made a mewling, pleading sound as she felt the straps tighten and thread.
”You can feel it, can’t you? The cool embrace of the dark? The eternity behind it?”
Hands ran along both thighs, trailing fingertips till palms pushed against them towards the top.
”Being in the dark, being in all that rubber? Some people are jealous of their secrets and wishes. You wore them all over your body like tattoos and fresh marks.”
Hands cupped her breasts, thumps pressing into both nipples with and rolling them in slow cycles.
”Your body matches your mind, but this is all just the start, Dolly.”
Her words were running like warm, sticky honey over her brain. Coating it, obscuring thought, melding into it.
Too many hands. Too many sensations. Too many...too much...and then the next words came from within the Doll’s own afflicted mind in her internal voice.
OPEN YOUR RUBBER LIPS AND SAY THE WORDS YOU WISH TO SAY DOLLY
Phantom wasn't, couldn't be an idle participant. To simply go along with everything she did, that would be a form of defeat. To just be the doll that Constance wanted to mold her.
She could feel it. In a way, she could see it. Utter shadow, the lurid blackness of her sight and what she surely knew was her body. A thick layer of lockdown, two in fact, unyielding and arcane. She'd disassociated from it from a few moments in isolation. Now she remembered. In her mind's eye, her body and mind were one; black, shining, and with Constance inside. Was it worth it to try to resist? To pretend that all this was purely humiliation? Yes, surely it was.
Phantom's grunts and mewls ceased. She was taking deep breaths now, body warm from movement and touching and arousal. She wouldn't dare show any more submission to Constance than was possible.
This treatment was profound, evil, and devilishly lurid, but this teutonic terror wouldn't see the great and powerful Phantom rolling over.
She wasn't sure what she thought she was going to say. But what escaped her lips was Yes. YES. OH GOD, PLEASE, YES.
Phantom quivered, trying to stop herself from continuing, from saying more.
”You don’t have to say a single word more, Dolly.” At some point, somehow, Phantom ended up standing before the silo, only realizing she had walked on her own in heavy trance as the last word spilled from her lips on the last step.
A steel mask greeted her - inverted to be facing out and away from her.
The lips were parted, circling a large rubber sphere that jutted out of the mask. Extending towards Phantom was a thick, dripping rubber phallus.
Her boots carried her forward on that final word, the undeniable instigation and unseen hands of Constance at play.
She slid her rubber lips down the shaft, the head quickly starting to fill her mouth and further. Her lips widened once again in quiet reflex to the rubber sphere. Engulfing the sphere, just enough to push the tip into her throat.
Cool air ran down and through the dildo in a stream as Constance began to wind a system of straps around the back of her Dolly.
”Very, very receptive. Don’t take this the wrong way, Phantom, but I don’t think your famous with and grit failed you. I think you just wanted to succeed and fill certain desires much more.”
She stopped herself before getting specific. There wasn't any need. What more could she ask for? A heavy steel mask with a fat plug?
Granted… One that plunged deep between her lips as well as her "lips", first over the shaft then finally over the sphere. The back of her throat tickled. And that plug, that plug, something that she now eagerly suckled, deepthroated, took between her lips.
Phantom was full. Masked, penetrated, toyed. Filled with a mix of embaressement at being caught... pride at the compliment [Constance did not seem like the type to make even partial compliments often] and filled with the growing lust of someone who was thinking about their situation.
Constance might as well have been a spider for how easily and dexterously she worked. Straps pulled, buckled, cinched and worked into a web.
A cross section of straps that pulled her legs in over the back of the shin, knee, and thigh, which rested over a set of three buckled cuffs along the shin, one at the knee, two around the thighs. A thick set of sturdier leather straps for a belt and a pair under both round, shiny cheeks that provides lift to the already perky cheeks.
The torso suffered the same fate. A box-configuration of sturdy straps that wrapped shoulders and pulled through armpits. Two straps as wide as her thigh crossing her corset red stomach and pulling her upper body in tight. A large cross of straps from waist to shoulder.
Finally, a solid piece of strap netting was secured over the back of the shiny skull, tightened with a small winch on either side till she heard the sucking and didn’t see any movement associates with it.
”You know, I like to manually do the head. It feels more intimate and I like to feel the movement truly end.” She stood to the side of the metal silo and clicked a few buttons. Three discordant beeps and a scanner laser ran from foot to head. Three more discordant peels and the straps tightened slowly.
A tug here, a tightening there. The process took 5 minutes to fully calculate, calibrate and complete. A second scanner ran and a beep this time.
[100% Immobilization Achieved]
[Oxygen Levels: Normal]
[Heartbeat: Elevated Levels]
The disembodied voice chimed it’s results as hands roamed the little spots between straps with pokes and prods.
Phantom was in heaven as she descended into the underworld. That last moment, of being entered into the silo, of feeling the straps wind their way around her, of feeling every bite and pinch; each one was an attack that reminded her of what was happening. You're doomed.
She's mad. , she thought. She won't let you go... Every one of those buckles and straps of the little butterfly caught and cocooned in the mistress's web was just as real, just as sure as if she'd done the deed herself. And the last deed, she did do herself. Phantom shook her head 'no,' barely.
Shaking, quivering, rocking as movement was reduced. And redced. and as her head-rocking, her minor thrashing became nothing at all. Feeling the stroke of a hand on her hooded and masked face.
Locked down . Immobile. The mewling returning at the minorest of stimuli. the scan revealing a healthy individual, packed and sealed and making such whimpering at her doom. Unable to react to the Doctor's comments with squirms reactions. Synthe transmitting information.
The blissful, terrible moment of having Constance's hands on her chest, thumbing and rolling her bust.
The only comments as whimpers and mewls for a mercy that she was incapable of giving. after all, hadn't she been generous?
Constance did a final check of the straps manually before stepping back to the keypad and punching in a few more numericals as she adjusted the final calculations. A hush of compressed air heralded a heavy, metallic pull of the back case.
With the finality of the crypt itself, the metal door closed. Internal mechanics whirred the 6 inch steel-curved bars from door to silo casing.
The chunk of them reaching home was deafening inside the silo.
[Locks set. Keyed Release to October 15, 2020.]
[Preparing Long-Term Iso]
[Loading Materials]
Thick foam sprayed from internal tanks and embedded nozzles, quickly filling all the empty air in the Silo that had been vacuum sealed. The nozzles stopped, and the foam started to set like concrete against soft rubber that contained supple flesh.
That’s when her eyesight flicked back ‘on’ and revealed her first sight since entering the dark. A steel cylinder sat upright in the office.
Stamped across the top in blocky letters like one would see in a prison: DIRECTRIX PHANTOM DOLL INCARCERATION A barcode rested under the words, more ominous than it should have under normal circumstances.
Immobilized. Interred. Lockdown. Within sight and sound and touching range, yet farther and deeper than Eurydice in Hades. Within meters of a desk where she'd sat. Infinitely far from rescue. Phantom brewed within.
Up and down and left and right; if anything, she was less aware of where she was and more aware of where Doctor Valor was. She hadn't the faintest awareness of how to escape, but she knew that the proximity to her captor was her everything.
Constance must surely have enjoyed hearing the case pull back and lock. Underneath internal hydraulics, there was the sound of a doll being put away.
Phantom squealed at seeing "herself." She could feel eyes rolling back slightly.
Constance stepped into view, and many unasked, unspoken questions were answered in that moment. There is an old legend that the unnatural are seen in the true light in mirrors. Vampires unseen. Ghouls showing their true rotting flesh. In modern times, there was a bit of an update now with the advent of cameras. She leaned on the silo, still dressed in her corset, boots and blouse.
Her bare flesh had taken on a grey, ashy pallor. Not unhealthy, but inhuman in a way that was simply other. Her hair - previously in a tight bun of white - now trailed over her shoulders and down her chest in twin braids with silver thread ran through. A pair of brutish black horns raised from her temple, sporting a pair of bronze cuffs.
A tail swayed, sporting a similar cuff and an absolutely royal looking sapphire set into it. She raised a hand and tapped her glass-like nails across the steel shell. Her eyes were once again a bright, glowing purple.
”Saint Nazare has many secrets in its halls and walls. Some even in the floor.” On cue, the silo began to lower into the floor, the Baroness pushing herself off it with a smile and sway of her tail.
”We are going to find out more of your secrets my dear dolly. I will lay your mind as bare as your body. And you will claim new secrets. New knowledge. New understanding.”
The camera panned out gently, offering a slightly more panoramic view as the new occupant arrived. It was a shapely woman with most of her assets in her chest. Thick, layered pairs of Synthex-Plus wrapped her frame. She looked to struggle with just the amount of nylon encasing her. Bending legs or fleshing was a challenge. Her head was encased in a black leather Gwendoline hood, the rest of her outer nylons a soft cream color that gave the illusion of flesh. Her breasts were bound in a nylon strap harness that looked multiple sizes too small and crushed her arms behind her back into a reverse prayer. She pushed into the waiting palm of Constance.