Nacreous rubber, an oily maw, a malevolent glow from his optics. The Specialist stood at the end of a hotel hallway, almost stone-still.

At the other end, as if facing down at the end of a cowboy film, was Phantom. Dozens of hotel room doors, all closed, separated them. Phantom gulped, staring at him as the lights started to flicker.

She’d  been on a business trip of sorts and had been warned about possible  attempts on her life and freedom. But that was standard, so she paid  them no heed at all. But she hadn’t been anticipating…  him  .  She’d had plenty of dealings with him before, but Phantom had steered  well clear of his gaze. Anything that caught his eye tended to  disappear. A few of them would reappear later; morphed, broken, reshaped  into  objets d’art and loyal, obedient things. The more royal,  the more luxurious, the better; the highest-value targets were those  who he could drag down from the most imperious of heights to an abyssal  trench of rubber servitude.

Hotel plans had changed, and  she was no longer in the wastefully luxuriant accommodations she  preferred. The mid-to-high range hotel was instead the type to have a  swimming pool for families and a workout room for gym-rats. Phantom was  interested in neither, and she was just returning to her accommodations  when she saw him. The hotel lights were flickering out one by one,  winking away like shooting stars starting with him. The hallway was  rapidly darkening, the shadows encroaching on her. Night had fallen.  Phantom dropped her key, not bothering with the false security of a room  and went running. She didn’t know if he was behind, and she didn’t  bother to look.

She ran to a foyer on the third floor. It  was open-air and ultramodern, but utterly quiet. Phantom saw the front  desk ominously empty, security cameras offline, and her security detail  heavily  sacked,  squirming, and squeaking on top of a table. He arched his back,  writhing left and right and chewing on a heavy ballgag as he flopped  from the table onto a couch. There was really only one other person  worth discussing in the hotel, and that was The Specialist. She ran  behind the counter, stumbling slightly over another bystander (equally  rubberized and doomed) and into a backroom.

The buzz of a halogen light was interrupted by the heavy  thud   of his thick, intense rubber boots. She could imagine them in front of  her; felt a lump in her throat at the thought of being forced to lick  and serve. Resolve bloomed. The back-room had a short hallway with  closed and locked doors. A mad scramble; a desperate series of  chk-chk sounds  as she pawed at each individual doorway, seeking desperately for some  emergency exit. And all the while, she could hear lights going out all  over the hotel; saw them flash off in her little storage room. In her  mind’s eye, he had gummed up the works - literally - with some  electricity-resistant black rubber gel.

 KLNG.  Another  light went out, followed by dim amber of emergency office lighting.  Barely anything, just coming from the ‘FIRE’ alarms. She was happy there  wasn’t any annoying alarms or flashing, it would have driven her madder  than she already was. Phantom tried her best not to get distracted as  she looked and looked. The last thing she saw was a window, but she was  on the third floor, after all. She was already doing the math,  calculating fall options and drop positions when she realized that it  was barred with a metal grate. Even with her prodigous, augmented  strength, she couldn’t get purchase on it. Phantom began to pull anyway,  at least until she heard the door behind her open.

The  Specialist had a certain aura about him that sucked in light. The  reflective nature of his bodysuit contrasted against his long jacket,  one which he casually let fall to the floor. Light bent around him,  optically disrupted to both hide him and draw the viewer in. Phantom  didn’t even know if it was intentional - like an anglerfish - or if  there was just  something about The Specialist that made him  deathly sexy. Maybe it was the tentacles that extended from his back,  the glowing eyes, or the knowledge that this rubber pup had his sights  set on her. Phantom froze out of reflex.

He took one step forward. It almost seemed hesitant.

“I  had a speech prepared,” he said. He almost stammered it out, as if he  was excited. His mouth opened, and she saw his long, sensual tongue  licking his lips. “But you’re such a prize. I forget myself.”

Phantom  tried pulling on the metal grate of the window again. When it wouldn’t  budge, she wound up an delivered an augmented punch, bending the metal  and breaking the glass on the other side.

“Don’t injure  yourself.” He was moving forward, practically gliding. He tapped his  fingers together with malevolent glee. Phantom felt like he was almost  giddy, but he hid it well beneath a thick layer of ominous sarcasm and  rubber. “I would hate for my  trophy  to be in anything but perfect condition.”

Phantom  didn’t say anything to the mad doctor; her mind was too busy racing  about what would happen if he caught her. She’d heard of his tastes in  playthings, and knew that she’d end up packed, sealed up, and  permanently coated in his own advanced concoctions. She could already  envision being strapped down and fed a cocktail of hypnotic drugs as she  struggled. It made her present struggle all the more intense, and she  punched again.

“Not to worry,” he said. “I’ll take good care of you.” He huffed, exhaling from his mask. He meant it.

Phantom turned her head. “Same here.”

Her  security detail pounced at that moment. The linear hallway where  Phantom had been seemingly trapped sprung to life like a mousetrap. From  behind, her bodyguard grabbed a thick rubber sheet around The  Specialist’s face. He sucked in rubber, flailing for a moment in  surprise as his tentacle armatures on his back went to work to throw off  his attacker and restrain him.

It didn’t work. Phantom’s  bodyguards, who had of course been pre-bound by Phantom herself, had  escaped their bonds and launched themselves at The Specialist,  physically pounding and straining to grab him tight. Bodies rubbed. Heat  and testosterone filled the room. Musk and intimate smells; thick  rubber, foaming latex webs. It all mingled with the intense squeaks as  their suits and his collided.

Bodies rubbed, grinding,  pouncing, thrashing. They took his arms and pinned them down to restrain  them with tape, winding bright blue tight against his legs. Bodyguards  ended up glued to the walls, but they were able to keep him down through  sheer force of numbers. He felt the immense pressure of three muscular  foes laying atop him; a woman who pushed him down with a powerful thigh,  a panther busy taping his arms. Airless struggles soon turned to  airless thrashing as they held the rubber tight.

All of the sounds mingled with Phantom’s laughing.

 “Kya-hah hah hah hah.”  She held her hand to her face with a loud, proud chortle. “Give him some air, boys. I want him to see my face.”

She  leaned down as they continued to wind tape around The Specialist’s  suit. He tilted his head to the side slightly; even though he was bound,  he was a predator. And he was still sizing up his prey.

“I  wonder what’s under that suit?” she asked aloud. Phantom moved a hand  to touch his mask, but the lethal-looking jaws and gooey maw formed into  something nightmarish. A whipping tongue had her recoil backwards, and  Phantom snapped her fingers.

“Hood. Again. In fact, two.”

He responded, and she couldn’t see his face but she imagined a grin.

“Enjoy it while it lasts, my sweet.” The  implicit conclusion that his bondage would be extremely temporary.  Phantom would have to ensure that he was going nowhere fast.

With  that, her guards slipped a tight hood over his face, stretching it  tight and beginning to wind advanced adhesive tape all around it,  mummifying his head and snout like a biohazard. Which he was. Phantom  was panting; something about his energy was infectious.

She  waved her hands, and ordered the Specialist, his equipment, and any  evidence of his presence - including an unfortunate hotel employee, who  would now have to be processed and kept - loaded into a van and brought  back to a safehouse.

Phantom spent the short trip  enthralled with her new victim. He was barely breathing, heavily  restrained in rubber and tape, and yet… he still exuded menace. His  tentacles had been locked down, but for how long? During the trip, he  didn’t say a word. He didn’t need to. The occasional heavy breath was  all that she needed to see. It kept her worried.

It got her excited.

The  trip to the play-space concluded with the guest being strapped down to a  metal gurney, not dissimilar from the style that might be found in his  own labs. There were a few little touches that helped maximize the  sensation of being restrained, processed, and treated with the utmost of  security. Phantom added segufix-style pads to the sides of his head,  nicely compressing and comforting the jackal-mask as he was quite firmly  strapped down.

The entire process was luxurious. She took  great pleasure in seeing him get locked to the gurney - first, each  hand being locked into an inflated ball-mitt, then each wrist strapped  down to the metal frame. The same process was repeated with each of his  ankles. The jackal could  probably break free if he really wanted, which was why she had an absolute bevy of straps continue the process.

Ankles.  Above and below the knee. But the best were his thighs. He was  well-toned and handsome, so packing up his squishy legs was just so  delightful. Phantom took great and genuine delight in pulling those  straps tight, cinching and squishing his thighs. Then the waist, chest…  not as fun, but just as critical if she didn’t want to end up as raw  material in his lab. Well, not yet. After all, tonight he was going to  be  her plaything.

Phantom spoke to him as he was  taken into the building, through a white-and-black hallway, and towards  an elevator. He was forced to do nothing but stare up at the ceiling -  and at Phantom - as they were escorted. Not that he could even turn his  head to argue.

“I was thinking that I’d run some  experiments on you,” she started. “Try to figure out what makes that  living rubber function. Because having something that I could control  with that level of fidelity-”

“You’d never be able to  control this,” retorted the Specialist, halfway through her speech. He  grinned internally, and externally, his gooey maw opened revealing a  long, dangerous tongue. Phantom eyed it, almost blushing and holding her  face in one hand.

“Oh  my . Maybe not. I can  only imagine how powerful I’d be with a tongue like that,” she said.  “Well, there’s no need to say more. It seems like there’s no knowledge  about your equipment that can be gained, is that right?”

He responded by retracting his tongue and speaking in a calmer tone. “There will be reparations. But we could still make a deal.”

The door to an elevator opened with a pleasant three-tone chiming  ping-pying-pung.   She, along with her attendants and guards, entered. A moment passed as  her hand hovered over the button placed high above the others. Towards a  boardroom? A meeting hall? Some place to negotiate? And then down, to a  basement, her hand moving lower still to somewhere dark and brooding  from which there’d be no escape.  That  was the button she pressed, for  that would be his fate.

“If there’s no use talking,” she said, “then you’ll be useful in other ways.”

The guards stared as she leaned in close to whisper to his ear. “ I’m going to    ravish      you. I’m going to take you. Break you. You’re mine, and if you’re  useless as a source of progress then you’ll be perfect for my  pleasure.”  

He huffed, almost indignant, and she leaned in again.

 “Mine. My little rubber jackal. Forever.”  

She managed to elicit a squirm from him. He arched his  back, just so. Phantom smiled, and gently ran her fingers over his body  as the elevator descended down into a nice, secure, and private part of  the MirageCorp campus.

The elevator came to a stop with another chiming sound.  The  doors slid open, revealing a dimly lit corridor lined with metal doors.  Phantom gestured to her attendants and guards to follow her as she  wheeled the gurney out of the elevator.

“Do you think I can’t escape these bonds?” asked the jackal.

Phantom  shook her head in a no. “These bonds?” she said, pointing to her  gurney. “Probably. But you couldn’t beat all the guards at once. Oh,  guards - over here. You can leave us once he’s set up. Ahem. Yes, I  think once we’ve got you suited up it’ll be no issue.”

He growled,  but Phantom paid her no heed. She was being cruel; not even allowing  his growls and begs and desperate grunts to be seen and heard. No, she  was fully and completely in control… and the Specialist was only  sentenced to beg and grunt - though he’d never plead.

The  sentence, as it were, was an extreme golden rubber straitjacket. It  wasn’t totally opaque; the latex, actually had a certain transparent  shine to it, allowing anyone to see the captive within. Allowing her to  see his muscles, his suit, his genuinely impressive musculature and  technological prowess. Straitjackets were to her taste; they had the  industrial feeling, the high-tech ‘made for bondage’ look that she  craved. It was a custom job, designed to practically melt on.

Thick  straps locked and sealed in place. Heavy belts kept his arms at his  waist. Transparent, lubricated rubber slid nicely over his torso. His  legs were locked in a lovely spreader bar, allowing her full control of  his sensitive spots. Though, for now, he kept them hidden.

The  Specialist’s suit was not going to simply open up or allow her to do  anything untowards. In part because he was bashful; in part because he  felt it was inappropriate. Not the act itself-  the situation. He’d  always imagined that any time he opened himself to her would be with  Phantom in his collection; shiny, gossamer, obedient, and eager. He  couldn’t bare or bear it at the moment. That’s partly why Phantom took  advantage of his suit; to twist the knife and salt the wound.

He  realized as he was being jacketed and his legs spread that she was  controlling his suit. He felt something that was in the same  neighborhood as fear, but more akin to annoyance. The Specialist did not  feel “afraid,” the same way a predatory cat would never feel terror.  But he did realize that the nanites that made up his suit were not  entirely his mental control. He looked down, glowing eyes realizing that  she’d made a few commands of her own.

She was kneeling. Lewd.  Almost obediently. Phantom was gently kissing him, starting at his cute  thick boots, then his calves, up to his knees, and finally she licked  his inner thigh. She was smiling, looking up at him as attendants were  busy tightening his straps.

And, with her green eyes staring at her,  on her knees as he looked down, he saw his manhood shift. The area  around his groin reconstituted into a bulge. Thick rubber armor became a  thicker, puffed sphere. Like a cake rising. Like a meal being prepared.  He had been nullified; his cock trapped in a pleasantly shaped and  perfectly packed ball. The null-bulge tingled slightly as a glowing  upside-down ankh appeared on his nullge - his own symbol. Phantom  thought it was cute, but she also liked removing even his branding from  his brand, and she switched it to a nice, big lock. 🔒

“Oh, my dearest Specialist. You didn’t think you were going to please me…” she said, moving her head up, “With this?”

Phantom  opened her mouth and licked his bulge. He felt lightning shoot up his  entire body, as if he was being electrocuted. Every nerve screamed with  tense pleasure. His manhood, though, felt warm. And he knew that nothing  would come of it. He struggled, bucking against the guards who  manhandled him and the straps that held him tight.

She was just  getting started. Her tongue extended, and she shifted to a long,  intimate lick. Starting at the bottom, going to the top, never breaking  eye contact, never once letting him think he was going to cum. Every  millisecond stretched out as he realized he was flexing his toes,  pumping his arms, and thrusting his waist. She shifted again, going  deeper, opening her mouth wider to suckle on it. Gumming it. Rubbing her  face in it. It was beyond ‘sexy,’ it was just ‘lewd.’ Eroticism  progressed to arousal, to orgonic ecstasy. She gently nuzzled his cock  with his cheek, and no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did,  nothing. Nullified. Edged. Needy. And as she had said.  Hers.  

Phantom  stood up, staring at his null-bulge instead of his eyes. “Did you think  you were the only one who could control nanites like this? Yours are  quite a bit better than mine, but that just made it more fun to seize  control.”

She punctuated it by grabbing his groin, his bulge, and  squeezing. The Specialist wheezed. He didn’t realize he could make  sounds like that.

Despite his need, he wasn’t going to ask her  for more. So he stewed, and like a stew, he got hotter and hotter. When  she knelt back down, he was  cooking . Her fingers slid around  his rear as she commanded the nanites to allow her access. Stroking him.  Touching between his legs. Licking, kissing, prodding. Gloved fingers  teasing eager areas. He realized that she’d strapped his legs quite  tight, because he couldn’t move his thighs. He thought about what he’d  do in the moment.

If he had his full power, he’d shatter the bar  and grab her tight. Turn off the nullifier. Wrap his arms and legs  around her neck. Throw the guards to the wall, snapping bones and  encasing them in webs so tight they’d squeal for mercy. And then he’d  force his shaft so deep inside that mouth that she’d nearly choke,  thrusting her in with her legs. All of this while he gently stroked that  cute face, weaving a nice hood over her while he forced Phanny to  deep-throat him.

He swallowed. She grabbed both his thighs and  went to town, licking, suckling, kissing, groping, grabbing, clutching  his thighs for stability. He almost wailed, feeling a tear well up in  his eye. He was so aroused it nearly hurt.

She took a moment,  stepping backwards and taking a breath. She wasn’t the only one with a  bit of water in her eyes. Phantom had expended not just energy, but  energy ; expended long-pent-up fantasies. The villain looked weak in the knees.

Another pant. Another. She was looking down, almost glassy-eyed before she recovered herself and looked him in the eye.

“Let’s get him tucked in for tonight. We have a display tomorrow.”

He  thrashed as the guards fit him with another layer. It was ludicrous,  offensive even. An inflatable neck-brace, one which seemed cruelly  designed to choke and squeeze his erogenous zones. Then an inflatable  jacket around his existing jacket.

The sound of the compressor  rapidly filling each individually was seconded only by the squeaks of  oiled rubber against rubber. He tried to kick and flail, and in fact, he  was successful. Phantom ordered his leg-spreader to be removed, and  instead had a heavy steel ball-and-chain locked around each of his legs -  and of course, his legs shackled together.

To ensure compliance -  and also for the fun of crimping the now-inflated jacket - she had  seven extra straps applied to his form, three on his chest, one on his  waist, three on his legs.

When his body was crushed and squeeze,  and he legs were locked, she had something that was as unnecessary as it  was erotic. For her, at least. Phantom was practically quivering with  delight, vibrating, beaming that she was able to use her favorite toys  on her favorite toymaker. Out came a gel-filled holding cell of  solidifying rubber-like fluid.

Phantom saw him glaring at her, and she smiled. She gloated. She rubbed up against him, whispering in his ear.

“Since  I need a bit of time to get the next thing ready for my prison-pup, I  have to store you for the night. I know no cell would ever hold you, but  some resin-gel? Maybe. It’s gooey, it’s thick, and I can assure you  from personal experience - it’s quite tight. Crushing. Like being buried  in the sand. Appropriate for your background, no?”

He didn’t respond. He didn’t even struggle.

Hanging  from a series of harnesses and straps, dragged down by the heavy steel  balls, the Specialist said not a word as he was slowly, agonizingly  slowly, lowered into the rubber cell. It was like watching a creature  emerge from the swamp in slow motion; seeing his suited form slowly  descend into oily black goo, seeing his stats indicate increasing  pressure, watching as his air-filled body almost didn’t fit. But the  steel dragged him down, and the last thing she saw was the glow  descended into the tube.

Her lips quivered.

Phantom felt  like she’d run a marathon, and she swiftly stumbled away to rest. She  had to get things perfect for him in the morning.

After  being decanted, unsealed, unpacked, the Specialist was weakened. At  least, he acted that way. Not beaten, not broken - but tired enough to  be moved to Phantom’s bedroom with only two guards knocked unconscious.  And, brought to her bedroom, he was placed in something that was both  simple and complex. A steel collar; thick, like a dog’s collar.

Matching  steel shackles built into the floor. Ultra-tensile compounds, and a  nice lock with no keyhole to fasten them shut. Only Phantom’s voice  would release the locks, and she wasn’t saying much as he was locked  into it.

Kneeling. Forced to kneel, really, as he didn’t do it of  his own accord. Forced to the ground. He was furious. Words didn’t do  it justice. The Specialist kicked quietly, constantly trying to get more  purchase, trying to get a better angle, trying to look more dignified.

Phantom leaned down. “Bark for me.”

He said nothing. He still maintained control over his maw, and he wasn’t going to open up and bear himself to her.

“I said bark for me, puppy.”

Nothing again. He looked up. Glowing eyes seemed to blaze with rage. “Woof,” he said sarcastically.

Phantom  chuckled, stroking his chin. He chose not to bite her, but there was no  escaping the way she gently groped that face. She loved the look of his  jackal visage. His muscles, his form; she was addicted to it. The  smell, the sight, the sound. Having a predator in your control had a  certain appeal.

The villainess leaned down. “Now that’s not what I meant. If you won’t bark for me, then I guess I’ve no use of that mouth.”

“Tired  of my words?” he said. “It’s why my captives are  gagged so often. I  need actions, not words. And from me you’ll have neither.”

Phantom shrugged. “Very well,” she said. “You have such a haughty air. Let’s see how well it does you.”

With  a cruel smile, she pulled out a wide piece of tape and wound it around  his snout. He was already keeping his mouth shut, but she very  intentionally locked it over his intake filters. And, because she was  already enjoying it, also over the backup nose-holes in the front.

He stared up at her for a moment. Seconds passed. He was impassive, like a stone statue.

Inside, he was thinking. His mind was racing.

Outside? Stoic. Inside? His lungs. They started to burn.

He  felt the lack of oxygen slowly at first. The feeling of needing to  breathe, but as he tried, he just sucked in micro-particles from the  tape. He couldn’t quite exhale, either. Plugged up, sealed up, totally  safe from the world inside and out. He felt his heart beating. His  fingers flexing. His toes squirming. His muscles twitching.

The  Specialist felt his lungs beg for air. He could probably get it, too, if  he opened his mouth all the way. Exposed himself. Exposed himself to  her . To the object of his desire. Showed her everything he didn’t want her to see.

He  wiggled in place, shifting left and right. It was a reflex as he  requested, then demanded oxygen. His head went slightly light. He knew  that he could hold his breath for many minutes. How long had it been? It  was  her , it was this witch. Her presence. Her scent  still lingering in his mind before being denied. Performance anxiety. He  felt his heart beat again.

Like a statue, he thought. But he was  no statue. The Specialist felt his mind and body act on reflex, opening  his mouth to take in air.

Phantom took advantage of it with  lightning precision. Her fingers propped wide and slipped a long, thick  gag between his lips. A sheathe. A sleeve. Something to be filled.

He gasped, no longer speaking. Phantom gently fingered over his nose, his snout. She smiled.   “Good boy.” 

The  domina loved seeing him taking in deep, deep breaths. Loved seeing his  head slump down. Bowed, not broken, but beaten down for a moment  nonetheless. Succulent, really; every breath of air he took must have  been the best he’d ever taken. Associating that with her musk as she  gently took a seat  on his back .

She gently rubbed his neck, ordering his rear to finally bare itself to her. Oh yes, she thought. She wanted him to  feel    her presence. Her weight. Wanted him to feel her inside his body. The  nanites parted as she had a plug enter him from behind; sculpted, full,  thick, latched to a metal frame. Lubricated sensations filling him,  teasing him, edging him. The walls of his rear adjusting as he felt it  go deep, teasing him, edging him further. His prostate was pleased, and  he felt his head  flutter .

Phantom exhaled.  Huff .

She leaned down. Pressed her breasts against him, his neck, leaned close so she could whisper into his jackal ears.

 You’re enjoying yourself. 

He didn’t say anything. But she thought she saw a ‘nod’ in  agreement. Which was good. Since she was enjoying this more than she  could have imagined, more than she could have calculated. She quietly  imagined that she’d been in some state of low-level orgiastic bliss  since the moment she started licking and edging him. Phantom did a  mental scan. She noticed something, but didn’t point it out. At some  point, he’d overridden the bulge. When, she couldn’t say. But the little  pup had broken the programming. Clearly, something  powerful  had happened. Something that he couldn’t control.

The Specialist couldn’t talk. But they both knew that he was thinking  yes .

Time passed.

She gently rid him, sitting atop her  pup, whispering the occasional sweet nothing. He squirmed, forced to  kneel and be a good little boy. Other delights. Touches. Kisses. More,  that she’d never say or admit to.

Bliss.

When she  eventually grew hungry, she dismounted. They were both sore; sore as if  they’d worked out, sore as if they’d finished a run and were weary with a  runner’s high. As she walked towards the door, she heard metal  snapping.

Phantom turned back. The Specialist had destroyed the  metal, snapped the lock, and stood with all the intensity he’d had when  she saw him down the hall.

 “Time’s up,”   he said.  “I hope you had fun.”   The implication being that it was just temporary. Very temporary. That now, her doom was upon her.    

She did shake for a moment, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. And then she smiled.

“If you ever want to do that again, just ask. You don’t have to  pretend  to be captured.”

Phantom winked. “And of course I had fun.”

The  Specialist stood quietly as she left the room, still in his most  menacing pose possible. He felt his heart beat faster as she walked  away, turning back to blow a kiss.