Chapter 1

 

Next morning a subdued Honi brought in Gerda's breakfast clad in her silver outfit and with a harness gag strapped over her face. She presented a notepad on which she had written: I HAVE TO WEAR THIS GAG ALL DAY AND I'M FORBIDDEN TO TALK TO YOU, MASTER HAS ALREADY LEFT ON BUSINESS AND I'M TO DRESS YOU AND HAVE YOU READY BY SEVEN TONIGHT. IF YOU WANT TO GO SHOPPING YOU MUST WEAR GREASE PANTS AND A ROD AND A THIN LATEX SUIT, THEN ORDINARY SLACKS AND SWEATER OR WHATEVER YOU WISH. SORRY ABOUT LAST NIGHT, BUT IT WAS FUN!

Gerda giggled and clasped the tiny girl in her arms. "It was my fault too," she whispered, "It takes two to tango or go on a scene. And I'm still going to find some excuse to get that waist of yours down to 14 inches. So I'll go out and do some shopping, but no ordinary clothes, I'll wear high boots over my latex suit and a heavy rubber mackintosh, but make sure it has a high belted collar."

Towards lunch-time, on a drab rainy day, she walked slowly down the Champs Elysée wearing a long grey rubber coat which covered the grey rubber thigh boots with their smart high heels. Nobody gave her a second glance apart from the brief admiring looks from young males for an attractive female. Every step caused the thick Rod to mack deliciously inside her grease pants, easing up and down her bottom so sexually that at times she was forced to stop and peer into shop windows.

She ate a sandwich and drank a coffee under a large umbrella table outside a café, wondering what Guy was doing at that moment, feeling so happy she could have stood up and outshone Gene Kelly singing in the rain.

She went window shopping down the Rue St Honoré, buying nothing although Guy had given her a fistful of Euros. By five she had returned to the apartment, reluctantly undressing and taking a long bath before she dressed for the Opera.

A few minutes before seven she strode into the big sitting- room, loving her Master-husband for his subtle domination. She was dressed for the Opera in a long black evening dress of glowing velvet, high-necked, long-sleeved and falling from waist to ankles in full pleats. Long satin gloves fondled her arms and the leather boots, almost invisible under the wide skirt, could have been fashionable 'grannie-boots'.

But the dress and the gloves were latex-lined and underneath she was wearing grease pants and a Rod, covered by a thin tight overall suit of opaque latex.

After they had drunk a glass of champagne and were ready to leave, Guy opened a closet door and brought out a magnificent long cape in gleaming gold lamé, lined with thin white rubber. He fastened the gold chain of the high collar round Gerda's neck and she felt the beautiful cloak envelop her body with a faint swish of mackintosh.

"It's gorgeous, Master," she whispered, aware that she looked perfectly normal for a night at the Opera, but tremendously excited by being totally encased in invisible rubber. She felt vaguely undressed without a mask and impulsively kissed Guy fiercely.

"Thank you, Guy, thank you so much for choosing me and training me and making me love you so. You're not really angry about last night? I adore that little Chinese imp, even if you've been to bed with her, we just got bored and gradually got into trouble."

As Guy moved across to the front door, she heard the faintest rustle beneath his immaculate tails and she knew with a glad heart he, too, was properly dressed.

He turned, holding the door open for her. "I expected it, knowing both of you rather well. But you'll be punished, never fear."

The opera, a new production of 'Carmen', was magnificent and she only became aware of her Rod when they made their way to the long bar at the interval.

As Guy mingled with the crowd, she whispered: "Why doesn't Carmen have a large Rod up her arse? She'd sing better and that bull-fighter would be rushing round every night for a rubber scene.

But that night, much to her disappointment, she slept in her husband's bed clad only in her normal latex pyjamas. When he rose at eight in the morning he kissed her sleepy face gently.

"I have a busy day, ma chère, but tonight will be different. We have Amy Graham's Ball. To make sure you're in good shape for it, Honi will put you into Meditation for a few hours."

Honi appeared shortly after 10 a.m., with the masked serving-maid behind her, carrying a large hamper. Gerda felt a quiver of excitement as she saw Honi's tiny waist laced tightly into its corselet.

"Time for Meditation, Mistress Gerda," she announced, not unkindly. "You've got to be in good shape for tonight's Fancy Dress Ball. Now we must put you into these three heavy suits, then a straitjacket, then into a thick rubber sheath; plus two latex masks and a heavy leather Meditation helmet. Will you please report to the Operating Theatre in fifteen minutes?"

 

 

Chapter 2

 

The Meditation suits, masks, gag and bondage had been very severe and when Gerda was released after six hours her limbs were numb and she could hardly stand when Honi peeled off the heavy latex suits. But after a refreshing cold shower she recovered and was looking forward to Amy Graham's Fancy Dress Ball, which the cream of Paris society would be attending. She hoped her costume would be slave-like and outrageous, as she was feeling highly masochistic after her severe bondage.

It was six o'clock and Honi had laid out a heavy black latex suit, with a mask attached. As Gerda pulled herself into it, she felt vaguely disappointed; if this was to be her fancy dress costume it was not showing much imagination. Honi pulled up the tight mask and zipped it down the back of her head until it met the zip of the suit. She slipped a small padlock through the two tags, locking it on to Gerda.

The mask was thick but comfortable, with eyes, nose and mouth holes. Gerda was now completely encased, with gloves and feet attached to the suit. "Big deal." she announced, "Nothing else? I'm not going to win any prizes."

Honi giggled. "Hon'ble Master come soon. Has velly intlesting idea, I tink you like."

"Stop that phoney talk and get me a velly stlong dlink or I'll whip that sexy little bottom."

"Yeth please. Me bling whip, yeth?"

Luckily Le Comte arrived at that moment. "Ah, you're ready. Good, I'll put you into most of your costume, then I'll get changed, then complete your outfit. We leave in an hour. Honi, bring Gerda into the Operating Room, I may need your help."

Mystified, not liking Honi's evil chuckle through her silver mask, Gerda followed the girl down the corridor to the big Operating Room. Guy had preceded them and immediately handed Honi a long thick leather Punishment glove.

"Lace that onto Gerda's arms," he ordered, "very tightly, I want her arms completely out of the way."

Not too pleased, Gerda clasped her fingers behind her back and straightened her arms so that Honi could pull on the single glove, well powdered inside, almost up her shoulders. Luckily Gerda had supple arms and could draw her elbows behind until they touched. Her interlocked gloved hands were now tightly encased in a single leather mitt and Honi fastened the wrist strap tightly, then began to lace up the thick leather glove, drawing Gerda's arms tightly together inside to the elbows, then continuing up to the top of her arms until they were stretched painfully backwards.

Le Comte tested the laces after the serving-maid had knotted them at the top. ''Good. Now bring over the pants first of all, and grease the Rod thoroughly." He turned back to Gerda. "I've had this costume made especially for you and it should fit perfectly. You're going to the Ball as the Steel Maiden. It won't be very pleasant, but I hope it won't be too uncomfortable, if my design works. Ah, here are the pants. You should just be able to slide them over your hips, insert the attached Rod, then the waistband can be screwed tight."'

Gerda stared in disbelief at the shining steel pants, inside which a horribly thick rubber tube was attached, covered in the antiseptic grease. Meekly she stepped into the pants and allowed Honi to pull them up until the Rod was searching for the small slit in the rear of her tight latex suit. She winced as the huge tube found her anal hole and remorselessly slid into her bottom as Honi struggled to pull the shaped steel pants up to Gerda's waist. When it was eventually in position, Le Comte turned a small thumbscrew at the side of the waist, tightening the pants cruelly onto his slave and forcing in the rigid Rod to its full extent. He stood back and surveyed the results with satisfaction.

"Beautiful. It fits perfectly. How does it feel?"

Gerda moved across the room, surprised that it was reasonably comfortable except for the Rod.

"Bearable, Master, but the Rod is huge and very rigid. It doesn't 'give' like an ordinary Rod. I can't even mack on it."

"Sexy little cow. Now, I have a similar Rod but made of steel which can be screwed onto the outside of the pants, making it impossible for you to sit down. I'll fix it on when we arrive there, otherwise you won't be able to get in the car. Now for the dress."

Gerda watched in horror, tinged with a delicious excitement, as Honi brought across a short cape of the same shining steel. Le Comte forced it apart at the front and clamped it round Gerda's shoulders, completely covering her tightly-laced arms. The high neck overlapped so that a small steel loop could come through a series of slots, like a belt buckle. Guy pulled the neck fairly tight, but left a small padlock dangling through the loop. Then he commenced to tighten the front of the weird dress. There were six long bolts which were screwed into their opposite nut-holes. As the dress tightened round Gerda's body, the bolts emerged from the flanged nuts. Each bolt had a hole bored through the end and Le Comte then passed six small padlocks through the bolts, making it impossible to unscrew the dress.

It was a mini-dress, a tube of glistening steel coming only to her hips, so that the pants could be plainly seen. "A slave without any arms," Guy said with deliberate leer. "I find that intriguingly sexy. Now let's fit on your boots."

Gerda was lowered onto her back onto an operating couch while the steel thigh boots were fitted onto her legs. When she was raised up to her feet again she was surprised that the metal boots with their 4-inch heels were quite comfortable. Although they came up to her thighs and had been tightened by tiny screws at the back, there was an invisible hinge at the knee which allowed her to walk reasonably normally.

"Now I'll get changed and be with you in fifteen minutes," Guy said briskly. "Honi, you can feed Gerda a large vodka before I fit her mask on."

Gingerly, Gerda experimented by trying to sit down. To her surprise, it was not difficult. The steel thigh boots bent just enough at the knees and the rigid dress barely touched the seat of the chair. Even the iron pants were so tight that the Rod inside hardly moved.

Honi brought in an iced vodka and held it to Gerda's lips.

"It looks fantastic, Mistress, you look so sexy. Those bolts all the way down the front of the dress, with six padlocks. I wish I could be dressed like that."

"Be my guest," Gerda said dryly. "My arms are numb and I can't even feel them."

"But that's the whole purpose, Mistress," Honi said eagerly, "You have no arms, you're a helpless slave encased in steel. Wait till you see the helmet; it's fantastic."

Gerda did not have to wait long. Le Comte strode into the room and she gave a gasp of pleasure as she saw his outfit. A deep scarlet latex tunic was secured by a heavy leather laced belt over gleaming black latex breeches. The breeches disappeared into high scarlet leather boots. He wore an eye patch and a cutlass dangled from his belt.

"You look very dashing, Master," she said with a faint giggle, "did pirates really wear those lovely shiny rubber breeches?"

He grinned, pushing up the eye-patch onto his forehead. "Just because I can't whip you in your iron pants, don't get cheeky. It's a symbolic costume, those poor bastards didn't have rubber or latex, they only had leather skins to turn them on. Here's your helmet. Steel, of course, but it's lined with thick rubber and should fit your head perfectly as I took your measurements again some weeks ago. It's in two parts, the front and back hinged together. The steel gate at the mouth, also hinged, has a large gag attached, so when I close and padlock the gate across the mouth opening of the helmet, you will automatically be gagged. The shaped nose has two small breathing holes and there are two thin slits at the eyes through which you can see surprisingly well, although to an onlooker your steel helmet appears to be blank and almost unbroken. The neck, incidentally, fits over your dress collar and padlocks on to it, so you won't be able to turn your head."

"Sounds like a great party," Gerda said dryly, although a masochistic thrill was coursing through her at the thought of being exposed in iron bondage, gagged and incognito. "I can't smoke or drink or eat or speak. May I breathe?"

Le Comte began to fit the helmet onto her head. "Don't worry, dear slave, I'll unlock your mouth and give you a drink and some caviar from time to time if you're a good girl." He pressed the rear of the shaped helmet against the back of her black mask, then swung the hinged front across her face, gradually tightening the screws until they meshed together into an iron mask.

The fit was perfect, although the inner rubber lining of the face-piece now clamped rigidly across Gerda's face. She felt Le Comte screwing tight the wide collar over the neck of the cape, then heard a faint click as the padlock locked the two together. It was now quite impossible to move her head.

But because the tiny eye slits were so close, she could see surprisingly well out of the mask. The round hole at her mouth was open, so she closed her lips and made sure she could breathe easily through the two nostril holes in the shaped nose.

"Bring me a heavy rubber cape and hood," Le Comte ordered Honi, "no reason we should titivate the public while driving there. But first, look at yourself in the mirror, darling Gerda."

She moved across the room and surveyed herself in the long mirror. It was an impressive sight. The sleeveless tube dress of shining steel ended naughtily short, revealing the tight steel pants, then a short length of the black latex undersuit disappearing into the high steel boots.

Guy came up behind her and slowly closed the steel lid hinged at the side of the round mouth hole. As it closed, the large rubber ball-gag was forced into Gerda's mouth. A small catch slipped over a metal ring and Le Comte clicked the mouthpiece securely across the helmet with a tiny padlock.

Gerda lingered for a moment, fascinated by her shining steel helmet. Even close-up there appeared to be no openings, just a moulded iron mask of blank steel, with the metal gate across the mouth tightly padlocked into position. She felt suddenly randy and wished she could mack more easily on the wide Rod.

When they arrived at the huge house of Amy Graham, one of several car-boys opened the passenger door and goggled as Gerda climbed stiffly out. Although she was covered in a wide rubber cape and hood, her steel face and boots shone brightly in the spotlights illuminating the drive. She found it difficult to balance without the use of her arms, but like a good slave she was learning fast.

Inside, Guy undid her cape and handed it to an attendant, then took a small cardboard sign and slipped it over her head. It lay on the top of the steel dress and read: "I am dressed as a slave in steel and gagged. Please address any queries to my Master, Le Comte de Rhislain."

The large mansion was filled with guests in fancy dress, ranging from the obvious to the bizarre. Gerda tried to keep up with Guy as he circulated through the big entrance hall, waving to acquaintances, kissing some of the women, then climbing the sweeping staircase to one of the bars.

Gerda found the stairs awkward, her steel boots only just bending at the knees sufficiently to take each step and going carefully because of her useless arms. By the time she had reached the top she had lost Guy.

Her costume was so unusual that many people stopped to admire it, reading the notice round her neck and laughing sympathetically. She was hot inside her latex undersuit and her large gag was causing her to slobber at the side of her mouth. Furiously, she clanked along the wide corridor to find Guy.

He was at the long bar in a drawing-room, sipping a Scotch and talking to the hostess, Amy Graham, who was dressed in a shimmering white crinoline, her large fat boobs barely contained in the tight bodice. Gerda eased up to them, glad to have found her Master again.

Amy adjusted her lorgnettes and read the placard. "Guy,"' she squealed, "She's yours. What a lovely idea. Tell me, my dear, isn't it difficult to move in that armour? And what about your hands, you can't use them inside that awful steel dress."

Gerda tried to shake her head pitifully, but the rigid helmet was screwed on too tightly; nor could she signal with her eyes through the tiny slits. Fortunately her Master produced a small key and unlocked the steel gate across her mouth, swinging it open so that the wet ball-gag plopped embarrassingly out of her mouth.

Amy Graham and some nearby guests were crowding round, intrigued by this unusual costume. "It's a Fifteenth Century Punishment outfit," Guy explained cheerfully. "My friend Gerda loves to wear it, she says it makes her feel secure and rape-proof. Could you use a little champagne, darling?" He held the glass for her while she gulped thirstily, inwardly furious but trying to keep her cool in front of Amy and the spectators.