This story was a delight to write. Features some very intense layered bondage, extreme gagging, breathplay, some mean and lewd language, dubcon intimacy, and featuring Rebecca Strong and some cameos by my friends Violi and Aria.

Waiting for the party was nice, because it made time slow down. It meant that the days they spent together felt longer. More full. Richer. Sweeter. She tried to savor it, to be present, but it was difficult. Her mind raced. But Natasha was a calming presence.

Phantom and Natasha were an envied power-couple. There were other couples, other times, other relationships, other partners from time to time. Some of them were intimate, others extreme. But Phantom and Natasha, together, had a unique relationship. Augmented, enhanced, transhuman… and also with a certain sense of play. Something exceptional about calling each other “honey” and “wife”.

Violi and Aria sipped drinks next to a sculpture, chatting about if they’d see any interlopers skulking about. They agreed that if someone wanted to show up and kidnap a bunch of high-value targets, this would be the ideal situation. Of course , security had been reformed, reformatted, and redoubled. And any attempted kidnappers would be PROMPTLY added to the giveaway bags that Phantom intended to distribute at the end of the night.

Phantom approached the two of them, smiling and taking a sip from a drink, with Rebecca close in tow. Phantom was several drinks in already, with Rebecca’s steely eyes eager to take advantage of any weaknesses.

Out stepped Natasha from a kitchen. It took a moment for the guests - many of whom blushed with embarrassment or snicked with delight - to realize that it was Natasha Zhukov. It helped that her there was a nametag on her collar. Though if that wasn’t visible, her titanic tits gave her away.

Natasha was wearing a stringent outfit that was downright unfair. A black hobbleskirt that went down past her knees was going to be hell to walk in, but the high-heeled boots were just punishing. She really had no hope of real locomotion when wearing ballet heels. Natasha had quite a form; everyone would comment on her gigantic tits (much to her shame and joy) but Phantom had a soft spot for her beloved’s gorgeous hips and thighs. Something really fun; there was a lot to touch, lots to grab and grope. Anyone staring at Tasha would probably be taken by that wide, generous rear. They might not even notice the way poor Tasha was quivering.

That was because under all the layers, Phantom had decided on an old but no-less-excruciating trick. A tight corset (slightly too tight, in fact, enough to make her lungs tingle) and a very cute white blouse (perfect for entertaining!) were all held in place by a lattice of thick straps. Tasha’s biceps were kept down, and her forearms extended to try to balance a tray kept on her forearms. She didn’t have a lot of tools to keep her balance up - that was in part thanks to the intense rubber bondage mittens, each of them inflated and pumped and pressing on her fists.

And with that, poor Tasha had absolutely absolutely no hope of delivering drinks in anything but the most clumsy of fashion. Besides, Phantom was pretty sure that her aforementioned little trick was taking hold. A ribbed vibe plugged up Tasha’s rear, flared and packing her ass with the sort of intensity normally reserved for someone that had angered Phanny. The chastity belt really rammed it in, locked and clicked and sealed shut with an egg wand up against her clit. Phantom wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

Not that she really needed to - Tasha stumbled from the moment she was called, mixed drinks splashing just enough to get her shirt wet. Phantom reacted with the appropriate levels of vitriol, grabbing her, forcing her over her knee, and applying a padded to the squirming servile Natasha’s rear end.

The party, despite the spill, had gone off splendidly. Everyone had enjoyed it - everyone capable of speaking ungagged, at least, had said as much. And those that had been packed up, gagged, or being used as public groping booths the entire time also had sincerely enjoyed it. And finally, those that hadn’t - well, they were going to be groaning, moaning little messes the entire time regardless of whether or not they’d been brought to a party.

A sitting room overlooking the gardens and yard (where the party had mostly taken place) was very quiet. Almost nobody had been up here during the event, and those that had were mostly doing it for a bit of privacy or to overlook the grounds. Phantom stared out the room, where almost all of the carcass of the gathering had been cleaned. The only sound was the ticking of a clock - luxuriant, overpriced, and owned solely for the sake of owning it.

Much like “trophy wife” Phantom carried around. At least, that’s what she said. Natasha was truly precious to her. But calling her a degenerate slut, best used only to show off - well, that made even Phantom blush.

Soft blue walls. Cream-colored leather. Rich dark trim; a digital fireplace beneath a mantle, and a coffee table laden with knick-knacks. An empty glass with the dark wine-color of Phantom’s lipstick. And a sound coming from next to the window.

Natasha was the only other person in the room, but she wasn’t being treated like a person. No, she was a kinetic sculpture. A lewd little toy to abuse. And Phantom was going to make her squeal. A thick, advanced synthex suit - something comfortable for Tasha to wear - was her standard attire at all times. But when she was going to be fully objectified, Phantom loved forcing her into a second layer of neoprene-like rubber. It was thicker, tighter - hotter - and it made Tasha sweat, metaphorically and very literally.

The sun was setting, and it was hitting the scientist in the face. The heat was getting to her, even with her heightened tolerances. But Phantom was safe in her cruelty; Tasha was horribly rubberized, sealed, and protected from the ravages of the sun, beaming into the window and the sitting room. That was thanks to the heavy hood, tight lenses, and somewhat-unsafe cruelty that kept it all together.

First and foremost, her mouth had been filled, packed with Phantom’s pantyhose and undergarments. She didn’t remember if her trophy wife could take it, but she did it anyway. Clogging , stuffing, packing, and - when she saw Tasha’s eyes starting to water - filling it out with a slightly damp sponge to really bulge out her cheeks. Like an over-inflated tire, she was ballooning out, begging, grunting, making wheezing sounds. That’s how Phantom knew to switch to duct tape. Phantom had a certain lover for taking it off too - the stimulation, the pain,and the lipstick smear on the outside. But that was for later. For now, she had two, three, four, and then another six winds of silver duct tape outside her lover’s lips and cheeks. Yum.

Phantom smacked Tasha’s chest, eliciting a blush and a pained grunt. The stinging sensation was soon covered up by the synthex gwen hood. Phantom stared at her captive for a long while, watching her arch her back slightly to get in air. Furrowing her brow, she leaned in and pinched her nose shut.

Tasha was quiet for a moment, then she started to buck. Squirm. Flex. Phantom saw the way her fingers made these pathetic little flexes - and she was reminded that she still needed to get those bound. But, first things first - the little villain let go only once Tasha’s lungs started to burn and she was stamping her feet.

“All right, you slut. I know the whole night you were looking for a chance to have some fun behind my back. Now that you’re listening, I’ve got the ‘perfect’ night lined up.” Phantom licked her lips. “Just you wait. I’ve got to make sure you’re not DISTRACTED before we can get to that.”

Tasha made a cutely confused sound as Phantom hooded her up. It was a twin-layered ordeal; the slender synthex gwen hood mated nicely with a thick rubber one. The second one had just an opening in the back to fit Tasha’s hair through it… and nothing else. The tiniest micro-perforations to allow not enough air in, extra padding around the eyes and mouth; no sense of identity on the outside except for some writing. Scrawled with Natasha’s lipstick, Phantom wrote PERMA-GAGGED SLUT in a nice, flowing hand.

“Hmmgghh..” had been her response before, but now, under a massive gag and two hoods, it was more of a “Mngghh…’ Quieter, subdued, no less desperate. Phantom rubbed her fingers over Tasha’s suit, starting at her neck and moving down as she grabbed arms and brought them up into the air. She finished up some incomplete business; ensuring that her beloved was stringently bound in addition to a punishing gag. Thick rubber ball-mitts over inflated spheres gave the poor scientist something to grab on to but nothing to escape with, the zipper zipped and straps used to ensure that the gorgeous garments wouldn’t fly off. A pair of tall boots zipped up as well, pressing Natasha flesh and shaping out her form to match.

Heavy D-rings on each of the mittens and boots were mated with some rather intense metal shackles, locked shut with a nice and visible padlock. Only then were the tight chains locked to Tasha’s now very visible steel bonds, and only then did she find her arms and legs being pulled taut. Like a vice, she was being stretched; arms out, legs out, trapped in an X-position as Phantom pulled the busty bride up into the air, latched to subtly-hidden latches in the trim. A fifth and final steel shackle around her neck helped to keep her upright as she started to wiggle. She was so turned on that even being wracked wasn’t slowing her down.

“Oh, my bimbo is getting excited by this?” Phantom asked. She pulled in behind the woman’s generous form, her head coming up to Tasha’s waist. Phantom cooed, running a finger between her victim’s legs and making her absolutely scream with desire, need, and chain-rattling pleasantries. Tasha felt a kiss between her legs, and then nothing but a growing sense of tightness and frustration as Phantom clasped a chastity belt over her beloved.

“Not tonight,” Phantom said. “Maybe never again after the stunt you pulled. And then here you are, pleading for my love? Tsk. I really should keep you gagged. You don’t say anything useful with those lips of yours, I much prefer a bimbo’s cute begging.”

Phantom deployed a remote, and Tasha shrieked. An audible zzzzap from the suit made her arch her back, wheezing for what little air she was allowed as she gasped.
“The suit should be pinching your teats and zapping in all sorts of places every few minutes. Armpits, lower back, those fat tits of yours, between your legs, neck. All those little electrodes are far more efficient than me just hitting you with a stun gun - and it’s more worth my time, sweetie.” Phantom spit for a moment before returning to Tasha’s wriggling form. Mmmm…. She was thick, and just grabbing at that body was a stupendous sensation. She couldn’t stay away, no matter how “angry” she was.

The villain spent a moment staring, connecting, acquiring. Phantom and Natasha - both being ‘posthuman’ - had access to thoughts and sensations no ordinary person would. Augmentations and nanotechnology brought them closer together, in ways that the unaugmented simply wouldn’t. Intimacy with others was more flat; incredible, unmistakeable, intense, but there was a dimension that others just couldn’t access.

For example, their increased durability meant that the sensations of being choked, tormented, layered up could get so much more intense and go on so much longer. Phantom was, for instance, slipping an extra pair - or four - of nylons over Natasha’s already hooded head, just for fun - because they both loved the pressure, the airless delight, the stimulation, the sensation.

Similarly, Natasha could dimly sense what Phantom saw and felt. It wasn’t a direct connection to her eyes, but she could understand, to a degree, what the impulses in Phan’s cyberbrain was seeing. And that meant Natasha’s heart fluttered more when she saw how degraded, how reduced to an OBJECT she was. Aside from her figure - which was hard to mistake - she was utterly anonymous, a rubber object up against the glass. Phantom pressed her whole body up against her ‘beloved,’ which in turn smushed her form against the window. Anyone, EVERYONE could see it - and they could see the phrase “PERMA-PRISONER” written in bold white letters on Tasha’s tits.

And, when a proper connection was established, when they were fully synchronized, they could even share in pleasure. Phantom had locked Natasha, but she was still going for force, absolutely force her beloved bride over the edge. As Tasha creaked in steel and synthetic fiber, Phantom sent a quiet message to a friend to arrive. “Hurry up,” she said over the phone, “Get here as soon as you can.” While waiting, Phantom stretched a plastic bag over her partner’s head, cinching it shut with duct tape. As Natasha’s air went from minimal to zero, Phantom enjoyed a cup of black tea.

Minutes passed. Natasha’s lungs were on fire. Her heart was on fire. She was beating so fast. This abuse, this humiliation, this utter degradation. She loved it. And realizing how much she loved it, how much she loved Phantom and Phantom doing this to her, it made her even more depraved. It made her feel like a horny little pig; the bimbo that Phantom was always calling her. That feedback loop made her heart sing and mouth make the cutest little groaning sounds, even if she couldn’t act on them - thanks to that heavy steel belt and the mittens and the extreme layers of gear… she didn’t even remember what had happened. Her head was spinning. Had Phantom, in fact, put her into another spandex layer? Had she been dressed in multiple sets of nylons? Were her hands stuffed into rubber-cement mitts? Her own fantasies played across her imagination, interrupted only by the bag coming off and the sound of someone entering the room.

Phantom was impressed. Rebecca Strong had her white hair in a bun, tight glasses. She was dressed for activity; expensive lingerie and designer clothes. Her bra and and garter were lacey black; her stockings were silk with exotic garters. Despite the amount of skin showing, she still walked with some gorgeous red-bottom heels. Hair and makeup made up. Rebecca barely batted an eye when Phantom opened the door to the sitting room and saw Natasha twitching.

“In need of some couples’ therapy?” asked Rebecca.

Phantom forced her lawyer up against Natasha’s form, kissing her, strongly, intimately, forcefully. The pleasure that Phantom experienced was coordinated, saved, explored, and shared. And every little moment was now being synchronized with Natasha. The feeling of lips touching made her own extremely gagged lips twitch. Phan’s hand on Rebecca’s chest made both of them flex. And the kinky knowledge that she was forcing Natasha’s body up against the glass again, pressed on by Rebecca’s form. It was a menage-a-trois that forced both of their toes to curl. Maybe Rebecca’s too.

The villain’s tongue explored Rebecca, occasionally interrupted by cruel smacks and slaps to Natasha’s thick ass, as if she was demanding that their pillow be more stable, secure, and servile.

“You’ll have to forgive the wife,” Phantom said. “She’s in a bit of a mood today.” This was puncutated with another shock, a series of shocks, that elicited a new and more guttural, needy sound. Rebecca felt herself being kissed, licked, touched, and soon escalating to something more forceful. She was taken aback, but not that aback. She’d half-expected Phantom to ask her to have fun with Natasha in front of her. But Phanny’s forcefulness was almost surprising. Like she was performing for two. Grabbing, kissing, licking. And soon, overpowering Rebecca, throwing her to the floor, pushing her to a couch.

Rebecca felt her arms grabbed by strength she didn’t expect from Phantom. She had her head forced against a couch cushion while Phanny took each of her dainty hands and fitted them into a padded wooden pillory - one with three holes, for each of Rebecca’s cute hands and one for her head. Ms. Strong protested, only to feel a boot on her back as Phantom’s sadistic glee overcame her. Rebecca’s words turned to honey. Phantom pulled a magic wand from under the table and flicked it on, gently moving it from the small of Rebecca’s back down between her legs.

And soon, Phantom indulged herself as well, forcing her body up against Rebecca’s as she rocked and rode her. The pressure was immense; she reoriented her chew-toy to kneel on the carpet before sitting atop her. The weight of the executive, combined with the wand, was sending Rebecca herself into a haze. She was drooling, and that was before Phanny fit a thick, bright red ballgag between her lips.

Phantom was excited. She felt her own lip quiver at the words, the thoughts racing through her head. She pushed Rebecca forward, lips contorting into a cruel smile as she repositioned the wand between Rebecca and herself. She turned it up, quivering, heart beating faster. And she looked over at Natasha.

Layers of nylon, spandex, rubber and steel. Degraded, degenerated, and deeply, DEEPLY servile. She saw the rattling little mass of flesh and metal, leaning up against the glass. Every inch of her packed up and needy; her beloved wife being used as as just a little fucktoy to abuse. Phantom turned up the toy to max.

The feelings washed over both of them - all three of them, really, but Phantom and Natasha especially. Tasha absorbed it like a sponge. All of Phantom’s fantasies played out and coming to life in her head. The pleasure, the pleasure in Phantom’s mind synchronizing and transferring to Natasha. She didn’t just feel it, she was there, neurons borrowing and copying quantum-entangled synapses. Sensations translating as the wife felt all of Phanny’s delight deep in her soul, her spine, her legs, her womanhood.

It pushed her over the edge. The hour of denial, edging, the evening of abuse. The way that her face had been crushed, like coal into diamond. The packed lips and PERMA-PRISONER and all those awful, evil, cruel words. She was just a dumb bimbo, she was a stupid slut. The “trophy wife”. The belt. The knowledge that she couldn’t even cum unless Phantom wanted to.

And Phantom wanted it. Natasha’s ecstatic truth echoed throughout the room, chains rattling and nearly breaking. Her body shook. Her mind seemed to melt. Phantom groaned, but Tasha moaned as an orgasm was forced out of her. She rode it like a horse, holding on to her mitts for dear life. The room was filled with life. Creation. Something special that they didn’t have words. There was no flatness; just an intense peak.

A few moments later, Rebecca gurgled, got to her feet, and shuddered, staring at the still-whirring toy, mind racing and imagination completely obsessed with what she’d seen. She’d never forget it.