Commissioned by me, drawn by :iconusagiforehead: . Featuring :iconmusicalmarche:



Abeda didn't speak. She wasn't gagged, but she didn't need to speak. The world was limited to her own body. Darkness reigned outside it as her captor set the lenses on her suit to 'blackout.'

She didn't feel any need to see, though. She had all that she needed right here. In her own little world, she understood herself. Nobody knew who she was. Not that they would or could, of course. The rubber was thick. Pleasantly thick. The humiliating, sissifying frills were a far cry from her normal appearance. The bodacious, buxom rubber that caressed her breasts exaggerated as much as it cushioned and supported. She couldn't help but move a hand over her chest. She rubbed at it, seeking some purchase, seeking to pleasure herself with self-adoring molestation.

No words would have described what she felt - again, just as well. She couldn't hear anyone else speaking when the plugs in her ears played endless white noise.

And then, for a flash - intense sensation. The lenses opened, and she saw guests and visitors and high-ranking executives all staring at her. She looked down and saw her on the center of a table; she looked up and saw spotlights. She heard moans and groans and the loud, rubbery squeaking from her own body. She her her thighs rubbing together. She heard gasps from outside and her own intense, rapid breathing. Loud grunts and groans came from the crowd - though none louder from the ones she realized she was making. A horny little plaything, resorting to masturbatory acts in front of others.

Silence reigned once again. The lenses returned to their blackout function. Sealed away in rubber and frills, Abeda continued. She saw what she really was and how others saw her. She didn't care. She loved it. 

Someone with a familiar scent pushed her on her back and began to stroke her form.