EXTRACT FOR
Marie Becomes a Doll
(Melissa DuVant)
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Marie Becomes a Doll Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of
the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention. Table of Contents Chapter 3: Lessons in Being a Lady Chapter 4: Preparation for the Evening Chapter 6: Suspended in Darkness Chapter 8: Constrained to Train Chapter 9: Display Preparation Chapter 11: Travel and a Visit Chapter 12: An Awakening and a Leave-taking Mistress of the House Preview Chapter One: The Mistress of the House Mistress of the House
Preview Chapter Two: Some Time Alone Thanks to Saroja for commissioning the artwork that inspired this! Marie took a deep breath, feeling the cold city air in her lungs, tightening her coat around herself as she looked up at the old brownstone in front of her. Her hand tightened around the business card, pulling it out to look at again - creamy card, a lip-stick kiss imprinted onto one corner, and a blurry address scribbled onto the page. This was the place... Now she just needed to go and knock. The door wasn't far, but walking the short distance seemed to stretch out, her mind a tumult of doubt and worry, her heels clicking on the pavement, the chill wind sliding beneath her coat, making her shiver, the nylons feeling strange on her legs as she mounted the steps towards the large wooden door. There was no bell, just a knocker - and she blushed when she saw it. It was shaped like a woman, her backside attached to the door, with a hinged metal paddle that smacked against the curved buttocks, thudding against the door, once, twice, thrice. She waited, looking around nervously - were people looking at her? An old lady walked past, dragging a dog away from its sniffing at a lamppost, and she was considering bolting, before the door opened. Warm air rushed out, and she stepped forward before realizing she had done so, into a small hallway, richly polished wood gleaming. 'You must be Madam Marie.' The speaker was a woman, looking a little older than Marie herself, but taller, crisp auburn hair cut into a bob. And dressed as an old-fashioned maid, her black mini-dress high enough to show off suspender straps, her legs pushed high on four-inch heels, a smart little white apron tied around a slender waist. 'I was told of your arrival.' There was a faint accent to her voice, something cultured and European, her lips quirking in a faint smile. 'If Madame would give me her coat, and then follow me into the parlor.' She looked down at Marie, who squirmed uncomfortably, feeling slovenly and messy, next to this woman's elegant beauty. But she'd been careful with her own makeup this morning! It wasn't fair that some women were so easily attractive! Her fingers untied the belt of her coat, and she slid it off her body, glad that the room was warm. The maid took it, eyes scrutinizing Marie, quickly skimming over her body, making her flush with a quick burst of shame. She didn't normally dress like this, but it was what had been required! The nylon stockings felt strange against her legs, and the high-waisted skirt pulled wasn't what she would normally wear. She'd had to dig out a silk blouse as well, her own clothing normally less elegant and feminine. But the instructions had been detailed - and seemed to fit in well with the elegant style of the maid. There was a long pause, before the maid nodded her head, spinning on a heel and walking away, Marie trying to avoid staring at her thighs, the maid uniform pulling tightly against pert buttocks. She walked down the hallway, Marie trying to avoid scampering to catch up, looking over expensive-looking ornaments set into niches in the wood-paneled hallway, marble and jade carved into flowing shapes. And paintings and photographs, set into frames, showing... She blushed, seeing ropes biting into skin, leather wrapped tightly around female bodies, ankles and calves made taut by high heels, before the maid opened up a doorway and gestured Marie through. 'Sit.' The command cut through Marie, her knees buckling as she sagged into a comfortable chair, the wooden frame thick and sturdy - when she glanced down, she saw it was bolted to the floor. The maid closed the door and then stood opposite her, crossing her arms across her waist. It was tiny - was that natural, or was her maid dress corsetted somehow? Marie was proud of her own slenderness, but that was nothing compared to this woman! Marie tried to reassure herself, settling into the chair, the wood hard against her buttocks, her arms falling naturally onto the arm-rests, slightly curved as though just for her. 'Hmmm.' The maid stared down at her, still smiling faintly, before advancing, Marie shrinking back into her chair. 'You are a pretty little thing, aren't you.' She leaned over, putting her face close against Marie's, staring into her eyes. A rich, luxurious perfume wafted off her body, powerful and seductive, making Marie feel warm and faintly dazed. 'Yes, I think you will do.' She stroked a hand against Marie's cheek, fingers strong and warm. 'Now, have you read everything, and understand your role?' Her fingers curved underneath Marie's chin and softly tilted it upwards, making Marie look upwards. This close, she could see that there was a slight line around the woman's neck, of slightly paler skin, as though there was normally something there to give her a tan-line. Then her gaze dropped, and she became aware of how low-cut the maid-dress was, showing off a generous cleavage, trimmed with lace, and her blush intensified. 'I, uh...' Next to this woman, she felt slow and ugly, her thoughts addled, the perfume oozing into her brain. The fingers squeezed, just a little harder, shaking her out of her daze, her own hands tightening on the arm-rests. 'I will need a fuller response, Madame.' 'I... Yes. I've read everything. Several times.' She twisted her legs, feeling the nylon slide around, a pulse of heat settling in her abdomen. 'Good. And you have come.' Nails poked lightly into Marie's cheeks, forcing her to look up into the maid's eyes, bright and powerful. 'And so you are willing to play your part?' 'Y... Yes! Yes, please.' 'Very well. For a week, to start with?' 'Yes. That's... That's all I could...' A finger slid over her lips, silencing her. 'Shhhh. A week is a commitment - quite long enough to tell if this is what you desire or not. And we prefer not to let outside things intrude into our private world, so please do not mention them.' Marie's thoughts were fuzzing now, snatches and bursts of what she had read, what she had agreed to, the heat within her body increasing, her clothing seeming too tight now, her breathing quickening. The finger pushed against her lips, the faint scent of soap beneath the woman's perfume. 'While we are here, you will refer to me as "Fifi". And I will be looking after you. If, at any point, you feel uncomfortable, or wish to take a break, then simply say your safeword, or make one of the agreed-upon signs.' Her eyes were so deep, Marie could feel herself sinking into them, barely conscious, a deep fog settling over her brain. 'Hmmm, you do seem nice and enthusiastic! Although perhaps you should wait a little before getting comfortable?' She flicked Marie's forehead, jolting her out of her trance. 'And you wish to be known as "Marie"?' Marie nodded, her lips still sealed by the single finger, not trusting herself to be able to speak. 'Very well. Then, little Marie, you shall be in my charge for the next week. And perhaps the Master will deem you worthy. Now, let Fifi inspect you more fully.' Her voice hardened, the playful tone fading away. 'Stand.' Fifi took a step back, giving Marie the space to stand. Her whole body felt warm and tingly, and she had to make an effort to hold her arms up, not wanting to slump, as Fifi circled around her. She'd followed the style guide as best she could - nylon stockings, smart black heels, a knee-length skirt and a silk blouse, all a bit old-fashioned, and things she wasn't used to wearing. A hand touched against her back, and she squeaked, jumping forward. 'Madame needs to learn to control herself.' The nails slid down her back, finding the rolling shape of her waistline and pressing in. 'But she has a good figure, it seems. But there is room for improvement. The training will begin immediately. Strip.' Marie bit her lip, a shudder passing through her, feeling a hot wetness between her legs. With fat, fumbling fingers, she started to unbutton her blouse, feeling the air lick and caress her body. She couldn't see Fifi, but could feel the woman's presence, close and attentive, overpowering her own spirit, as she finishing unbuttoning her blouse and took it off, neatly folding it, placing it on the chair. 'Ah, Madame Marie has some manners! Very good. So many young women these days are rough and sloppy.' All she was wearing beneath was her bra, and she had to fumble to unclasp that, trying not to squirm her thighs, the pleasure spreading and seeping through her entire body. 'Step forward, arms up.' Having to expose herself even more made Marie shiver, her eyes darting around, her chest now utterly bare. She became aware of how many mirrors the room held, letting her see herself, her long, brown hair falling most of the way down her back. Fifi moved in close behind her, Marie able to feel the woman's breasts against her back, warm and soft beneath the maid's dress. She reached upwards, pulling a bar down from the ceiling, with leather cuffs on each end. Marie spread her arms, sliding each wrist into the open cuffs, feeling the soft, smooth leather kiss against her skin, rising up on her toes to do so. 'Good girl. Madame Marie has an instinct for such things.' The smirking, playful accent was back, Fifi's hands locking the cuffs into place, leaving Marie with her arms raised and spread. 'Madame will need training - for now, just a little compression of the waist.' Hands slid down her body, stroking her ribs, making Marie suck in a swift breath. 'And if Madame Marie should be noisy, then her mouth will be sealed. But I'm sure little Marie wants to be a good girl, doesn't she?' The hands moved to the waistband of her skirt, releasing the clasp, the material falling to the floor. Marie twisted her backside, her head dropping as she panted, barely able to think already. Fingers flicked against her buttocks, twisting at the lace of her panties. 'Hmmm, a little plain. Your body deserves finer, Madame. But that waist, first of all.' She stepped away, Marie watching her movement in a mirror, as she went to a wooden wall-panel and pushed on it, the thing opening up to reveal a cupboard. She only caught a glimpse of the contents, but leather, latex and metal all gleamed, brilliant and bright, all sorts of things she had only dreamed of. Fifi closed it, her hands now holding a corset, ribbed and stiff-looking, cords dangling down. 'This will do, for now. The Master likes a nice, trim waist.' She swayed her hips, drawing attention to her own wasp-waist, the white apron around her body making it seem even slimmer. She placed the leather around Marie's body, the thing cold, making Marie gasp. But then it was wrapped around and the cords were tightened, the touch turning into an inescapable hug, tight and strangely comforting, as it pressed in on her. The pressure was constant and unyielding, but it didn't hurt, as her belly was made tight and taut, her spine forced straight. 'Little Marie will need to improve her posture.' Fifi kept tightening the cords, pulling them tighter and tighter, Marie starting to get breathless, unable to fully inhale now. 'And those heels are a little disappointing - but Fifi will train Marie.' Marie felt herself blush even more at the chiding - she didn't normally wear heels, and even these few inches had left her stumbling and uneven on the trip here! The tight corsetted hug continued, tighter and tighter, the leather now pressing in on her, the cords getting knotted into hard, tight lumps behind her back, Fifi down on her knees as she worked. Whenever her hands touched Marie's skin, it made her gasp, the heat between her legs throbbing and urgent, although she couldn't do anything to slake it, her arms locked above her head. Fifi made a satisfied noise, rising up from kneeling in a smooth motion. 'That will do, for starters. Is Madame comfortable?' It took an effort of will to talk, even without the pressure on her lungs, all her focus on the rising, swelling heat between her legs. 'Yes.' Her voice was small and quiet, as she twisted her hips, feeling how tight the corset was, coming up to just beneath her breasts.' 'Good. But Madame Marie's heels are not sufficient - although the stockings are nice.' Fingers trailed along Marie's buttocks, following the lines of her body, stoking the heat within, before sliding down her legs. Her nerves felt stretched thin, and she would have fallen if not suspended by her wrists, as the maid stooped again, fingers gentle but firm as Marie's heels were unbuckled, forcing her to bend her feet herself to retain any contact with the floor. 'Such lovely, pale skin is best complimented with leather.' She went back to the cupboard, this time returning with thigh-high boots, crisscrossed with laces up the front, polished to an almost mirror-bright shine. The leather was soft as it was pulled up her legs, but the heel was far higher than anything she had worn before, forcing her feet into a steep curve, swallowing up her leg. It added to her height, but made her feel uneven and woozy, the leather tightening around her, as Fifi tended to the laces, working from the bottom up. Each tug and twist pulled the leather closer against her skin, the stockings offering no protection against it, getting swiftly warmed by Marie's body. 'Madame is well behaved. That is good.' The laces tightened against, Fifi's fingers lightly stroking Marie's thighs, just above the top of the boot, all of her weight now on that one leg. 'It is always a pleasure to serve such a well-behaved young lady.' Marie twisted, feeling her hair slide over her back, falling most of the way to her buttocks. Her body felt light, almost like she was flying, a heat boiling up within her. When the boot was fully laced, she felt a soft wetness against one buttock, her face burning up as she realized it was a kiss. A hand slid between her thighs, just lightly resting against her slit, making her heart race. It withdrew, and then the other boot was pulled on, leather embracing her leg. 'Madame's hair is well-kept, but the Master prefers a more orderly style. Fifi thinks that braids would be best.' Marie tried moving her booted leg, feeling the leather resist her - it was stiff, limiting how she could move, letting her lift her knees, but that took more effort normal, and she was hot beneath it. And the heel! It made her whole leg tense up, her ankle and calve taut in order to keep her balance. The other boot was laced into place, evening her up, but forcing her other leg to be just as tense. Her backside was taut as well, as she balanced on her toes, the bar swaying above her as she moved. A finger poked against a buttock, Marie letting out a long puff of air, fingers waggling, her movements more and more restricted. A hand slid against her back, gathering up her hair, tying it into a loose knot and pushing it over a shoulder, the soft lump hitting one of her bare breasts. 'It seems Madame Marie needs some help holding her head up.' A hand suddenly grabbed her hair, dragging her head back, her gasp becoming a squeak of shock. 'Although Madame is lovely - if in need of refinement.' When she was released, Marie tried to hold her head up, but it was hard focusing, her entire body wanting to melt away, and she could feel her pleasure, starting to flow from between her thighs. She twisted her thighs, rubbing them together, but couldn't do more than that to pleasure herself, barely conscious of Fifi's movements, before she came back. Leather touched against her neck, a hand reaching around her to touch her forehead and tilt it backwards, hair getting brushed away to keep it from getting trapped. It was high and stiff, like a corset for her neck, making her keep her neck stretched, her head up. Buckles clicked shut, sealing it into place, tight but not choking. But now she couldn't move her neck - she couldn't twist to see anything, her vision limited to what was in front of her, unable to even look up or down. Fifi embraced her from behind, Marie feeling the stiffness of Fifi's own clothing, contrasting with the softness of her breasts, compressing against Marie's back. One hand cupped Marie's breast, the other gently cupping her crotch. Marie shivered, unable to resist gently rocking her body, her crotch sliding against Fifi's hand. It rose up, then flicked backwards, a gentle slap that sent a ripple through Marie's body, the pleasure and pain coiling together. 'Not yet, Madame. Now, just the arms, and then the ensemble is complete.' Marie could feel every movement the woman made, the differences in material between her apron and the rest of her dress, and the silk-soft touch of skin on skin. And the scent of her perfume, twisting and coiling into Marie's nose, even above the leather! When one of her wrists was released from the bar, she sagged, and would have fallen if Fifi hadn't supported her, an arm wrapping around her waist. Her arm limply fell to her side, before the other was released as well, and she tottered on the heels, needing time to rebalance herself, her weight on her toes before she was able to steady herself. Firm hands took her elbows and pulled them backwards, her shoulders pulling as well, making the corset even tighter. Leather slid upwards, embracing her skin, a single glove swallowing up both of her arms. Straps came over her shoulders, pulling her arms closer together, her palms pressing together, more straps pulling her elbows and wrists together. With all the leather now on her body, her posture was forced to be tight and stiff - the corset pressed against her belly and hips, the boots keeping her on her toes, and the armbinder making her shoulders be pulled back. She tried twisting her wrists, being able to pull them around to her hips but no further, looking at herself in the mirror, trying to figure out her range of movement. 'Little Marie needs to learn not to be distracted.' Fifi sounded amused, holding up a leather blindfold. 'But Fifi will look after her.' She brushed hair away from Marie's eyes, then slid the blindfold into place. It was padded, soft foam against Marie's eyes, but blocked out any light, plunging her into blindness. 'Fifi will guide Madame. But Madame must display perfect posture and gait, if she wants to be worthy of Master.' Marie heard a click, from in front of her, before pressure was exerted on the collar, pulling her forward. Every step was a challenge, her balance thrown off by the heels, her weight all on her toes. And with her arms bound behind herself, it was even harder to adjust her body, and she couldn't twist her torso either! The sudden realization that she was being pulled on a leash sent another urgent throb of heat coursing her, as her breathing started to come in panting rasps, Fifi still pulling on the collar. 'Fifi will not let Madame walk into anything, but Madame must take care not to stumble. But Madame is a lady, not a pony - small, elegant steps are needed.' Marie obeyed, feeling her hips start to sway as she took the ordered steps, the image of herself in her head arousing her, body wrapped in the leather, as she let herself around, unable to see where she was being taken! Marie couldn't see, the blindfold still in place, her calves throbbing and sore as she tottered forward. She could sometimes hear Fifi, the maid's own heels occasionally clicking against hardwood floor, before going silent on a thick rug, but had no idea where she was. She had been led through the house, occasionally bumping against the wood-paneled walls, kept on a short leash by Fifi, and then left. The sense of isolation had been both terrifying and freeing - unable to see, her body bound in leather, acutely aware of every sound, trying to keep herself stable in the heels. And the pressure in her body, strung taut, like a wire waiting to be plucked. Just a slight tug on the leash had made her gasp, before Fifi had removed it and started to order her around. Her legs were aching now, the strain spreading up her ankles and calves, her thighs hot from the exercise, wet with sweat as well as her own juices. Her whole torso was heating up, compressed by the corset, her breasts bare. 'Hmmm. Madame Marie has promise, but needs more work.' Something sliced through the air with a sharp hiss, making Marie flinch and stumble, barely able to catch herself. Her hair slid over her back in a simple braid, reminding her again of her near-nudity, except for the leather, embracing and constricting her. She didn't even know what the room she was in was like! It was warm enough to be comfortable, but she'd completely lost track of where she had entered, how much she had walked before being ordered to turn around. A rod tapped against her backside, just a gentle touch, pushing her and making her turn. She waggled her arms within the soft leather of the binder, impotent to protect herself as it jabbed into her buttock. 'The corset and collar are helping, are they not?' 'Mrhhh...' The rod withdrew, before flicking against her backside with stinging force, impacting against both buttocks. 'Madame Marie needs to remember her courtesies - she is being trained by Fifi, and should thank her for that!' The cane flicked against her again, sending another impact through her, making her tighten up even more, the pleasure-pressure within her getting even more intense. She couldn't do anything about it though, unable to touch herself, unable to apply the force needed to relieve the tension. She tried to straighten up, to keep her posture good. A hand slid around her collar, taking a firm grip, the rod poking more firmly into her exposed skin. 'Little Marie must be careful, if she wishes to be worthy.' The hand on her neck tightened, twisting slightly, pulling her off-balance, all of her weight transferring onto one aching leg. 'And Fifi would not want to present anyone unsuitable to the Master.' She felt the rod change direction, getting put between her buttocks. 'Tighten.' Marie obeyed, clasping the rod with her buttocks. 'If it drops, then...' Nails slid around Marie's ribs, a hand cupping a breast, fingers sliding over nipples. Marie felt herself start to pant, her focus now on her lower back, keeping her buttocks tight around the rod. '...perhaps tighter clothing will be needed?' The inescapable hug of the leather was making Marie feel dizzy already, her head swimming, her senses clinging to Fifi's words. The hand sliding over her breasts was even more intoxicating, making her want to be touched and stroked elsewhere, even though she was unable to do anything herself. She was pushed forward by the neck, and then suddenly let go, left to reel in sudden isolation. But the rod was still between her buttocks, forcing her to take even smaller, tinier steps or risk it dropping, swaying on the heels. 'Madame is fast to learn. Excellent. It would be a shame if Madame were to force me to mar her soft skin.' Marie bit her lip - what other tools did the maid have access to? She might even have a whip in hand now, or something harsher! Her mind started to whirl - whips, crops, an electric prod. Or maybe a roll of tape, to wrap around her, bind her up in tape. Her focus wavered, mind spinning through all sorts of other things - spiked metal wheel, clamps to bite, or rope to wrap around her body. The questions she had answered had been very thorough! Another small, faltering step, her weight balanced awkwardly in the heels, feeling greater exertion draining her. What would happen if there was a wall in front of her? Would Fifi let her just walk into it? But there was nothing else she could do, and if were to turn, she might still bump into something without warning. She wriggled her arms, trying to hold the rod in place, feeling it slide against the inside of her buttocks, making her asshole tingle as it rubbed. And that set off another crazed cascade of thoughts - she'd never had anything in there, but it was supposed to feel good. Maybe the Mater would, would... Her face burned with a deep blush, her breathing now in fast, shallow pants, the corset tight and constricting. 'The Madame improves swiftly.' Fifi's voice came from close by, making Marie flinch away, the rod dropping and sliding downwards, before she managed to catch it, tensing her buttocks as tightly as possible. She made a grunting, mewling noise, before light fingers touched against her breasts again, squeezing at a swollen nipple. Another hand stroked down her between her breasts, before it became just a pressure against the corset, and then touching her skin again, along the curve of her pelvis. She tensed her whole body up, wondering what Fifi was doing, unable to sense more than those two hands, stroking and sliding over her body. The lower hand slid between her thighs, forcing her to feel her own wetness, desperate not to relax herself at all, not wanting the cane to be released. A single fingertip slid around her lower lips, the nail flicking against her soft skin, making her gasp and whimper. 'Perhaps Madame would like a gag?' Fifi's voice was amused and relaxed, her fingers stimulating Marie's body, her sense of self getting drawn tighter and tighter. 'Although little Marie is nice and quiet. Excessive noisiness would need disciplining - as you already know.' Marie clamped her lips together, although that made it harder to breathe, especially with the hot pressure rippling up from her crotch, and the pulsing waves from every touch against her nipple. The words of everything she had agreed to flashed through her head for a moment, spasmodic mental images of what else might happen to her making her brain melt, the images impossible to sustain. The finger slid into her, and it was all she could do to keep the cane between her buttocks. The finger only lightly penetrated into her, but it still felt good, pleasure rolling into her belly, starting to build up inside of her. Lights sparked and burst within her head, making conscious thought even more of a struggle. 'Very good. Madame Marie is obedient - and her body is soft and willing. But she must be trained, to be suitable for the Master.' The finger slid deeper into her, her body clenching around it, pulling it further into herself, unable to prevent herself from rocking her hips forward, the motion putting further strain on her thighs. And then it withdrew, her slit wet enough that there was no resistance. 'Madame must learn to not be so eager - pleasure must be earned.' Marie felt herself sigh, wanting the touches to resume, to be stroked and granted release. She hadn't even been touching herself for the last several days, but now her frustration was building, twisting up within her. She strained her shoulders against the armbinder, the leather snug against her arms, keeping them held back, making it impossible to touch herself, or get free. Her leather-wrapped arms knocked against the cane, and she felt it slide to the side, slipping out of her grip. Too late, she tried to tense up again, but it was gone, falling downwards, and clattering against the floor. Fifi tutted, her fingers pulling at Marie's nipple with greater force, starting to squash the soft and sensitive nub. It hurt, but in a good way, making her heart race faster. If it hadn't been for the collar, then her head would have sagged downwards. The fingers let go of her breast, and then she heard Fifi move around, the cane touching against her legs as it was picked up. 'It seems Madame's derriere could do with some work.' Sudden pain cracked against her buttocks, a moment before she heard the cane. She rocked forward on her heels, twisting her arms in the binder again. Another strike, right across the soft meat of her buttocks, making her yelp with pain. 'Step forward.' The cane jabbed at her, poking against the welts. Marie obeyed, taking a small and delicate step forward, one foot directly ahead of the other, feeling the movement making her hips sway. 'Keep going.' The cane flicked against her, with less force now, but driving her forwards, as she took more little steps, unable to regain her breath, her brain melting into mush. The room seemed to stretch into infinity, or perhaps it was just that her steps were tiny, but her brain, no, her entire body, felt wet and hot. The pressure was building up inside of her, but with no way to vent, no way for her to obtain release! 'Madame said that she was very flexible. Fifi will test that.' Marie stepped forward again, squeaking in surprise as she bumped into something, feeling her hips knock against wood, smooth and polished. A firm hand pushed against her buttocks, shoving her forward, and then the bottom of the armbinder was bent upwards, forcing her to bend over at the waist. The wooden bar acted as a pivot and she bent over it, the corset digging deeper into her. She was having to strain to breath now, the blood rushing to her head, Fifi applying steady force onto the armbinder, making her shoulders ache. A foot pushed against the inside of her ankle, forcing her to spread her legs, letting her drop deeper. Still panting and gasping, there was no way to resist, a hand slightly flicking against her throbbing backside. Then she heard the slither of rope, getting unknotted, some hitting the floor. It wrapped around her wrists, pressing through the leather of the armbinder as it was tightened, keeping her bent over, pulling up and forward, the bar pressing against her belly, through the corset. Fifi's hips pushed against Marie's backside, making the cane-marks ache even more, the woman's legs between Marie's, keeping them spread wide. 'Very good, Madame! It is a delight to watch you twist around.' Her shoulders were aching already, and having Fifi's fingers lightly touch against her bare thighs made her gasp. Then rope pressed against her leather-wrapped ankles, looping around, dragging her leg forward and tying her to a wooden post, keeping it pinned in place. This was repeated on her other ankle, leaving her legs spread and her body bent over, utterly exposed. Nails stroked over her backside, and then there was a light swat against her buttocks. 'Fifi has work to do, so must tend to that.' The hand slid between her thighs, curving around to stroke her slit. 'But Madame is content, no?' Marie mewed, wanting the finger to slide deeper into her, but she couldn't move at all, bent to her limit, the position forcing her to take nothing but swift, shallow breaths, her head hot. 'Fifi expects a response from Madame Marie.' A hand smacked against her buttocks, harder this time, making her gasp, having to fight even more to breath. The impact reignited the throbbing ache from the caning, a delicious surge of pain that made her even wetter. 'Madame is content, no?' 'Y... yes...' Her voice was shaky and weak, as she tried to tense up her shoulders to find the most comfortable position, her ankles still sore from the heels bending her feet. 'Very good, Madame!' Another spank, swift and sharp. 'Fifi shall tend to her work. Madame must take care not to make a mess, or else she will need punishment.' Fingers gripped her buttock-meat, nails digging in, making her squeal. 'Perhaps Madame will work hard and deserve a treat?' Marie could feel Fifi's body pressing against her from behind, the woman's legs pushing against her own, her muscles warm, wanting to relax but forced taut. She wriggled her hips, trying to get touches there, but there was nothing, Fifi chuckling and spanking her again. As the impact rippled through her, making sparks dance in her vision, Fifi stepped away, leaving Marie locked into darkness and bent over, exposed and wet. She felt a kiss, wet and hot, against her backside, squeaking in surprise, Fifi's tongue sliding over her skin, before there was a long, sucking kiss, the pressure feeling strange but not unpleasant, before Fifi withdrew. There was barely any movement possible, her legs held wide, the wooden rail supporting her. Footsteps clicked away, leaving Marie there, locked in the darkness, desperate for stimulation she couldn't provide to herself. Melissa DuVant writes a variety of BDSM-inspired stories, such as Digital Slave and is one of the co-writers of the St Michael's University setting. When not writing, she is generally planning RPG campaigns, reading or cooking. The cover was created by Formant. He is a web artist, specializing in the harsher side of fetish and kink. Mistress of the House Preview Chapter One: The Mistress of the House Hannah hauled her suitcase from the boot of the taxi before it sped off, leaving her alone on the empty country lane. She was stood next to an old gatehouse, although all the windows were bricked up, the door sealed behind a metal sheet. At least the gate was open, although a heavy chain and padlock hanging from the dark metal showed it could be locked closed. Why had she agreed to this job, out in the middle of nowhere? The money, mostly - three months cleaning work, that paid what she would normally earn in two years! Probably some old dear, unable to keep on top of the dust in the few rooms she used. But the place was miles from anywhere, even the nearest train station a long and expensive taxi ride away. She checked her phone - no reception, of course. She started trudging up the long drive, the manor house easy to spot, set on a hill ahead of her. When fully maintained, it must have been glorious, with rolling grounds and a huge garden, but now everything was very much run down and clearly delipidated. A statue peered at her from a cocoon of greenery, a toned six-pack stomach barely visible beneath moss and vines. Her arms were getting more and more tired, her case dragging at them more with every step. But if she was going to be here for a long stay, she needed to bring clothing, as well as... entertainment, something for the lonely evenings. She was only 23, she needed something to keep her entertained and turned on! A strapping young gardener or groundskeeper to keep her company would be nice but seemed unlikely. She passed several outbuildings - some cottages, a boathouse, a pavilion - but all looked boarded up and unused, except for the stables, that looked open and in use. She would have to explore later, but she should find the owner first. By the time she got to the front door, up a grand staircase of its own, her arms were burning from the strain of carrying her case, sweat making her clothing stick to her body. The door was fronted with a brass face that glared at her, long tongue forming the knocker. No doorbell, or any other sign of modernity. She took a moment to compose herself, tidying her long, brown hair into a ponytail, hoping she didn't look too tired and sweaty. Then she lifted the knocker and let it drop. A loud "thud" sounded, the door vibrating under the impact. The sounded cascaded into the house, probably echoing amongst empty rooms. She could imagine ancient things arising from their rest, shuffling up and coming to answer the door. If it was an old lady, then hopefully she had her rooms near the door, or Hannah would have to go exploring and try and find where she lived. There was the tattle of a chain, two hard "clunks" of bolts being moved open, and then the door creaked open. It was opened by a woman, notably taller than Hannah, and likely so even without the heeled boots she was wearing. A taut red leather skirt fell to her knees, her breasts straining against a blood-red satin top, her hair a deep, glossy black against her pale white skin. Her eyes were rimmed with dark eyeshadow, jewelry shining on her ears and around her neck, even in the gloomy light of the hallway. She looked down at Hannah without speaking. 'Uh, good morning.' This wasn't what Hannah had expected. 'I'm Hannah. I'm here for the maid position?' 'Ah, little Hannah, of course. Please, come in, follow me.' The woman started to walk away, the place dark enough she almost vanished into the shadows, as Hannah scrabbled to catch up. Inside was a grand reception hall, the walls covered with oak panels, so dark they were almost black, the rugs underfoot a deep, crimson red. Hannah's arms started to ache again almost immediately as she hauled her case with her. As they stepped away from the door, it swung shut with a loud "crash", the sound cascading through the manor. 'Are you, um, the lady of the house?' Hannah tried to peer through some of the doors they pass, but they were moving too fast, leaving only the vague impression of furniture under dustsheets, display cabinets in far too many rooms, all looking dusty and dirty. 'Of course I am, my dear, although I prefer the term "mistress". Just myself, and this big old house. I do have a gardener and a cook as well, although it may be some time before you meet them.' She stepped through an open archway into a strangely modern living room, at least in contrast to what Hannah had seen so far. Black leather sofas with plenty of cushions, a coffee table covered with dust and food stains, a plasma TV just as dust-covered. She sat down, gesturing at Hannah to sit as well. 'I see you are already taking in the task ahead of you, my dear.' She crossed her legs, scrutinizing Hannah with curiosity. 'So, uh, sorry, what's your name, Miss? The advert didn't say.' Hannah looked around the place - for someone so neatly and stylishly dressed, she must live like a slob. The place was worse than a student flat! 'My name is Miss Coerator. A pleasure to meet you, Hannah.' As Hannah sat down, she almost fell into the sofa, the cushions too soft to support her, the springs utterly shot. Miss Coerator perched on another part of it, where the structure must still be sound. 'How much of this place do you use? It's massive!' 'Well, not much really. I own most of the surrounding land and rent that out, but I only use a few chambers here. I seem to need a new maid to do each room. So, Hannah, do you have any prior experience in cleaning?' 'It, uh, sounds like you use up a lot of maids! Yes, some, I've worked at a few other places as a cleaner - at a few old people's homes, or universities in the holidays, that sort of thing.' As the woman slid closer to her, Hannah shifted, hiding slightly behind her case. 'Yes, the poor things never seem to last long. But this is no retirement home. And you should be proud to be allowed to clean here; it is a grand old place, albeit in need of some work. But I will show you to your room, and your new uniform. I wouldn't want you to be spreading dirt all over my lovely home.' She laid a hand on Hannah's shoulder and smiled, before rising to her feet. Hannah stood as well, feeling short next to her. 'Uh, yes, Miss Coerator. Did you say "uniform"?' This scarcely looked the sort of place to have a uniform! 'Oh yes, there is a uniform. It is essential to your role, that you remember you are here to work, and not laze around as though you were a guest.' She started to walk away, Hannah having to trail along behind. This place got guests? Who would want to stay here? It was a struggle for Hannah to keep up, having to take care not to move her case over stray rubbish, or possibly out-of-place antiques. They traveled up another grand wooden staircase, although the wood was grey from the dust atop it, a wine-red carpet bright atop the wooden tiles of the floor. Was she refurbishing the place? 'Come, Hannah, the day is wasting.' Hannah was starting to realize why the other cleaners might have left, despite the generous pay. The place was a mess, it needed a whole team of cleaners, not just a single maid! The walls of this part were stone - maybe it was an older part of the building? Miss Coerator came to a doorway and pulled on a chain around her neck, a key emerging from her cleavage. It was a strange-looking thing, covered with spikes and spines, looking as though chains had been melted over it. 'Yes, Miss Coerator.' Hannah was trying not to pant, her arms feeling like they were about to fall off, as Miss Coerator unlocked the door and stepped inside, Hannah following behind. Inside, rather than the dusty and dirty chamber Hannah expected, it was an extravagant room, the most luxurious she had ever seen. Was this Miss Coerator's room? There was a king-sized bed, fine sheets embossed with silver roses, the walls a soft white. A huge screen took up the wall opposite the bed, an open door showing a walk-in wardrobe filled with neatly-arranged clothing bags, all plain white or black plastic. Through a door was an en-suite bathroom, with a free-standing porcelain bath, metal taps gleaming. There was even a phone - a modern one, not an antique - on the bedside table and light jazz playing from speakers in the corners of the room. 'Welcome to your new home.' 'Is this... is this my room? It's gorgeous!' If this was the room for a cleaner, how much fancier would Miss Coerator's own room be? 'Yes, this is all yours. At least, until your employment terminates.' Hannah moved to the wardrobe, looking with curiosity at the clothing bags - they were the sort of things used to preserve fine suits and dresses, not what she expected to see in the servant's quarters. 'Don't touch those. Now, although this is, in many respects, an old-fashioned house, I do maintain some touch with modernity. I will supply you with a tablet that can be used to track and monitor your tasks, as well as how much work you are doing. I expect to see great progress. Should you fail to do this, then your pay will be docked, or I may have to let you go. Do you understand? And the phone can only be used for internal calls - I don't want any wasted time, you understand?' 'Uh, yes, Miss Coerator. Are there any personal areas you want me to avoid?' She strode over to the wardrobe. 'What size are you, my dear? And thank you for asking - there are two areas you would do well to stay away from. One is my personal chambers and the adjacent room - it is normally locked, so you shouldn't be able to get in anyway. The other is in the basement. It is unlocked, but if you go down there, I will be quite cross. Do please ignore any strange noises from down there - it is quite draughty, so it can often sound like a person moaning. Not ghosts, I assure you.' She gave a thin smile. 'Now, your size?' 'Uh, size 8, Miss Coerator. And I'll stay out of your bedroom and the basement.' She flicked through the bagged-up outfits, plastic rustling. 'Hmmm... You'll have to squeeze into a size 7, I'm afraid. Now, drop your clothing, my dear, and we can get you into your new uniform.' 'Um, thanks, Miss Coerator, but I can dress myself.' 'I think I will dress you myself, Hannah. I am paying you, after all, and it is important that the uniform be worn correctly, in every particular. Now, it's 9:12, and I'm docking money for every minute you hesitate. Do as I ask, and you might just earn some money for today.' Hannah winced, knowing it was too good to be to true. The woman was definitely odd but hopefully not too much of a pervert. She surrendered, trying to turn away as she undressed. 'Relax, Hannah. There isn't anything wrong with this. Didn't you use to change in front of the other girls at school?' 'That was a little different!' But she couldn't leave now, so Hannah pulled her jumper over her head, thankful her brown hair was in a ponytail rather than loose, then pulled her jeans off. The room wasn't warm enough to be standing around in when wearing only her underwear, and she looked away as there was the crinkle of plastic. Miss Coerator moved up behind her, cloth brushing against her back, making Hannah shiver. 'I'm going to pull it over your head.' Hannah moved her arms appropriately, letting the outfit be pulled onto her, Miss Coerator twisting it into place. Hannah opened her eyes, looking at her new attire in the full-length she was stood opposite to. It was a tight, black mini-dress, low-cut in front with a white frill along the bust. It was structured almost like a corset, compressing her hips, waist and stomach, and the skirt was frilled and very high, doing little to hide her butt and crotch. The thing was backless as well, exposing even more of her skin, some kind of cording tight against her back, allowing for further tightening of the corset. 'Uh, what is this, Miss Coerator? I was expecting something a little more... practical.' Although she was dressed now, the outfit was sufficiently skimpy that it did little to help with the heat, the fact that it was backless making her feel even more exposed. 'You just need to adjust, my dear. Now, let me help you with the corset.' Hannah had never worn anything like this before, and wasn't used to the pressure it put on her body, or how exposed she was. She plucked at the skirt, trying to push it down, without much success - there simply wasn't enough fabric to push down and cover herself more! Miss Coerator wrapped something around her neck, buckling a frilled leather choker in place. Her nailed hands lightly brushed sensitive skin as they tightened the cords against Hannah's back, squeezing her body further. 'It's... very frilly, Miss Coerator.' 'You look very good, Hannah. The frills suit you. Although those shoes...' She looked down at Hannah's feet, currently shod in battered trainers. She ran a hand down Hannah's back, then stooped and untied the shoelaces, as Hannah obediently lifted her feet to allow them to be removed. From the bag were pulled a pair of high-heeled shoes, heels at least four inches, shiny and black, with straps to secure them around her ankles. They were strapped onto Hannah's feet, elevating her height, but throwing her off-balance - heels this high were something she had never worn before! And even with them on, she was still shorter than Miss Coerator and had to lean on her for support. 'Now for the cleaning equipment. Some of the chemicals used are quite harsh, and I wouldn't want your lovely hands damaged.' She spun Hannah around and gave her a push against her back, sending her staggering against the wall, having to put her arms out to support herself. As she flailed, Miss Coerator grabbed Hannah's left hand, strapping a black leather mitten in place, a heavy cuff locking around her wrist. It forced Hannah's fingers into a curved shape, like an action figure meant to hold something. 'I don't think I'll get much cleaning done like this, Miss Coerator.' 'Oh, it's very simple. They have a side where a scourer or polisher can be fitted, and the outside is made for wiping and cleaning. Or other equipment can be fitted. Now, do kindly stop complaining, and maybe we can start you with some actual work?' Hannah shifted awkwardly, Miss Coerator's body warm against her back. Miss Coerator grabbed her other hand and forced it into another mitten, locking it in place. There was a metal d-ring on each wrist, like something else could be attached, and small clips where a padlock could go, to lock them fully into place. Then Miss Coerator took an electronic tablet, the size of a phone, and tapped it several times. 'Let us test your basic skills. This device will track your movement and how much work you do. This way.' She gave Hannah a push, sending her tottering on her heels, just about managing to stay standing. They walked down the hallway, Hannah moving by lurching forward and catching herself, Miss Coerator giving her a push every time she slowed. 'Is this really necessary, Miss Coerator?' 'Oh yes, Hannah. Now do stop complaining, or you job will become much, much harder. Open that door.' It took Hannah several tries before she was able to get it open, her bound hands fumbling at the handle, unable to properly grab it. She pushed against it with her shoulder, almost falling through as the door opened, to reveal a room filled with dust-sheets and glass-fronted cabinets, the contents hidden behind grime. Miss Coerator gave her another shove, forcing her into the room. 'Now, I expect you to start from the top, and work down.' She gestured at a shelf, filled with bronze urns. 'Your gloves have cleaning pads built in, which can be used to buff the bronze in here. You may begin.' Hannah staggered forward and rested against the surface for a moment, before pulling herself up onto the cabinet. The skirt was so short that Miss Coerator could see everything, but it was nice to take the weight off her ankles and calves. She started rubbing an urn with one hand, the pad doing a good job of lifting away dirt and grime, restoring the metal to some semblance of cleanliness. She looked over her shoulder at Miss Coerator. 'Carry on. I have other work to tend to rather than watch you all day.' She rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a webcam, setting it on the table opposite. 'But it would be best for you to presume I am watching all the time. The items in here are valuable, and I would take it amiss if any of them were to be stolen or broken. I expect to see good progress, do you understand?' 'Uh, yes, Miss Coerator.' 'Good.' She turned and left, closing the door behind her. There was an unsettling metal "click", as she locked the door, sealing Hannah in. This place was remote enough that it didn't make much difference - there was nowhere to escape to anyway, so Hannah set to work. It was hard to measure time, the only light coming from a small window. Hannah had managed to clean half a dozen of the urns, but her hands were now covered in grime and dirt. She pawed at the buckles on each wrist, but the leather around her fingers was so stiff, so the things may as well be padlocked on! It was the same for the shoes - the buckles were far too small and fiddly to untie without her fingers free. By now, her arms were burning, a deep pain starting in her muscles. She tottered against the door. There was no handle on the inside, no way at all for her to escape. She glanced at the camera, the light blinking at her. Surely Miss Coerator had better things to do than watch her? But it would probably be best to look busy, just in case. Despite the pain in her arms, she polished off another urn, before looking around the room more - everything was covered in dustsheets but looked like furniture; chests, cabinets and crates. The only thing poking out from between the sheets was a metal pole, about waist-high, topped with a strangely bulbous metal lump. It was mounted onto a metal base - although still grimy, it looked newer than most of the other things in the room. Glad to take the strain off her knees, she started cleaning out, wiping her hands up and down the shaft, trying to ignore the feeling that it was like a giant cock getting a handjob, the enforced curve of her hands just about the right shape to buff and polish the metal, trying to ignore how exposed and bound she felt, hands locked into gloves, a camera watching her every move. Mistress of the House Preview Chapter Two: Some Time Alone Hannah got a moment of warning as there was the click of metal in the door before Miss Coerator unlocked it and stepped through. She was now wearing elbow length gloves; slick, sleek and black, the hands looking like they had been smeared with some liquid. There was a slight musk in the air that accompanied her, earthy and sweaty, a touch of color in her pale cheeks. She moved forward, standing close to Hannah, almost touching her, then reaching past her, running a finger along one of the urns. Her finger left a smear on the metal, but at least it was a shiny one, rather then showing dust. 'A start, I suppose. You have applied yourself diligently, for today at least.' Hannah let her arms fall, barely able to lift them again. 'Thank you, Miss Coerator.' 'Now that you are fully in my employ, then "Mistress" or "Madam" would be correct.' She took Hannah's chin in her hand, a faint smear of the liquid rubbing onto Hannah's face. Had she been working on some machinery or something? It smelled faintly like lubricant. Hannah was too tired to resist, feeling hunger starting to burn in her stomach. 'Yes, um, Madam.' "Mistress" seemed far too strange and fetishistic. 'Now, I suppose I should return you to your room. Follow.' Hannah had little choice but to obey, trailing after the woman, arms like lead. She managed to keep on her feet and not stagger against the walls, at least, but the pressure in her calves and ankles was building again. How did people manage to wear things like this all the time? She glanced down - Miss Coerator's heels on her knee-high leather boots were smaller, her hips swaying slightly as she moved, leather skirt swishing with her steps. There was no visible panty line, so either she was going commando, or she was wearing something very skimpy underneath. For a slightly crazy lady living apparently all on her own in a big old house, she certainly dressed well! They returned to Hannah's room, as Miss Coerator (or "Madam" - Hannah would have to remember to call her that) pulled out the heavy key from her cleavage and unlocked it again. 'While I intend to work you hard, I am not completely uncaring. As today is your first day, then you may spend the rest of it resting. I expect you to start bright and early tomorrow morning though.' The bed looked oh-so-tempting, but Hannah managed to stay standing, at least for now. 'Thank you, Miss Coerator.' The woman's hand brushed against Hannah's bare back, making her shiver, and then pinched her, just below the frilled choker. 'I'm sorry, Madam.' 'Very good. Now, you may use the bathroom to clean up. First, strip.' Her arms were too heavy to lift as Miss Coerator fiddled with the corset straps, some of the pressure on Hannah's body releasing itself. The dress was pulled back over her head, leaving her naked again, except for the cuffs, choker and heels. Miss Coerator - Madam - angled her to look at herself in the mirror, hands tight on Hannah's shoulders, breath and body hot and close. 'You have definite potential. I am a firm believer that the help should be both functional and attractive, and you more than qualify on both counts.' She had bent over slightly, her face next to Hannah's ear, breath soft against skin. Wrapped in the lubed-up gloves, her hands were slick, smearing the stuff onto Hannah's skin. 'I will do what I can to help you achieve your potential. And of course, you will lend your skills to the upkeep of this place.' 'Yes, Madam.' 'Food will be sent up.' She flicked the dress, wiping dust off, before returning it to the bag, the bag going in the wardrobe, which she closed and then locked. 'I would advise you to rest well. I have great plans for you, little Hannah.' Hannah staggered forward, supporting herself against the mirror, as Miss Coerator left. The door, of course, locked behind her, leaving Hannah sealed in the room. She was still wearing the mittens, hands bound into claws. They weren't locked on, but the clasps were tight - Hannah had to work them back and forth against a bedpost until they finally released, and she could pull her hand out. She flexed her fingers, glad to be able to move them again. Getting the other one off was far easier, now she could move her hand again! Next were the shoes, the straps and laces quickly succumbing to her plucking fingers. How long had she been working? There were no clocks, and it was summer, so the days were long; it could be any time between "afternoon" and "evening". She sat on the bed, massaging her ankles. Those shoes were bloody uncomfortable! And she was still wearing the choker. Her hands roamed over the leather, feeling the lace frills, and the metal ring at the front, over her throat. There was a metal clasp, but there didn't seem to be any release - she would have to ask Miss Coerator to take it off later. At least it wasn't that uncomfortable. With that done, she went to examine the bathroom. It was grand, all marble and shining metal, with a free-standing tub in the middle of the room and a cabinet filled with toiletries. She started running a bath, steaming hot water following into the tub, bubblebath added to make thick, white foam. Hopefully the choker wouldn't be marked or damaged, but at this point she needed to relax! She slipped into the tub, letting the warm water embrace her, flowing over her limbs and soothing her. It was relaxing, the bubblebath lightly scented - even if it was hard work, if she got to relax like this, then it might be worth it! Hannah fell further into the water, wondering how food would be served - Miss Coerator had managed a cook, hadn't she? Or maybe she cooked it herself? The image of Miss Coerator dressed like a maid drifted into mind, her body wrapped in the corset and frilled dress, showing off her legs and bust. Although she probably wouldn't be as obedient! Those luscious red lips around a nice, chunky ball-gag, maybe, those proud eyes indignant, muted grumbled from her sealed mouth, angry at being silenced? With her eyes closed, she started to fantasize, letting her fingers drift between her legs, stroking her sore thighs, lightly slipping into herself. Maybe if she were to seduce Miss Coerator, then she might get some more money, or some easier work? That would be nice! She played and teased with herself, getting close to the edge, but not going all the way. She wanted to leave it a little while, let the anticipation build. As the heat built up, she kept stroking, teasing, soft and gentle. Then she stood up, water sloughing down her body, and toweled herself off, wiping the suds away, draining the water from the tub. Miss Coerator hadn't moved her case, still by the bed. There was a large wooden chest next to it, currently open and empty, with a heavy lock, although no key. In her case was tightly packed clothing, mostly slightly dull and plain, although with a few outfits in case she got the chance to go out clubbing. She glanced around, although there was no-one else in the room. Hidden away beneath it were some of her toys - a variety of dildos and vibrators, all the things she needed to entertain herself on the long, lonely nights. And batteries. A lot of batteries! That was what had killed her arms on the way here. At least now she had something to do. She picked up one, and flicked it on, the end twisting around. Her arms were still sore, but she stroked it against herself, sliding the vibrating wand in and out of her slick slit. With her other hand, she played with a breast, setting a regular tempo with the dildo. She was almost there when she heard metal rattling. It must be Miss Coerator at the door! It was an effort to stop as she slid the dildo under several pillows, kicking the case shut to hide the rest of her toys. Part of the wall opened, a metal panel clanking open to show a metal tray inside, bearing a covered-up plate. It was just like room service, although it did raise the question again as to where the food came from. Miss Coerator might be cooking herself? It seemed a lot more likely there was someone else to do it for her. Hannah lifted up the cover to find a decent spread - fresh-cooked, by the looks of it, vegetables, some sausages, mashed potato. There was even cutlery, with handles large enough that she would be able to grab them if her hands were still bound into the mittens. Was she meant to have kept them on? She would have to put them on, and the heels again, before Miss Coerator returned in the morning. She seemed mean enough she might lock them on, and the buckles definitely had holes in where a padlock could be attached to make them impossible to remove! Hannah finished herself off first, grabbing the dildo again, bringing herself to a quick orgasm before settling in to eat. It was good food, like pub grub, and looked to be fresh-made, rather than from a freezer or a packet, the sausages mostly meat, no gristle or fat. When she was done, she put the plate back into the dumbwaiter. The panel clicked shut, and there was a clanking sound, as the plate was returned to the kitchen. Maybe she had a butler somewhere? Or several other maids? The door was still locked, so she turned to her case. Most of her clothing was cheap stuff, functional and not very durable. But better than being naked! Some baggy shorts and a t-shirt were good enough to lounge around and sleep in. Then she had a look through the rest of her toys - it looked like there might be a lot of lonely evenings, so she made sure to being entertainment! She'd even brought along a few unpowered devices, if she burned through all of her batteries. From the taxi ride, the nearest shop was at least five miles away, further than she wanted to walk. Hannah looked around - where had her trainers gone? She looked under the bed, tried the door to the walk-in wardrobe (locked), checked in the bathroom, but couldn't see them. Had Miss Coerator taken them? That meant her only shoes were the heels. Hannah strapped them on, getting some more practice walking in them, trying to imitate Miss Coerator's sway, before giving up, legs and ankles protesting. After a few more bouts with her toys, it had gotten dark outside. There were no clocks, but she felt tired from all her exercise, and so curled up on the huge bed, and swiftly fell asleep. She woke with what seemed to be the dawn, golden sunlight seeping in through the window. Soreness had crept into her muscles, aftereffect of yesterday's effort. It must be quite some time before Miss Coerator came to fetch her for the day, so there was time for some pleasure. She fetched out one of her more advanced toys - a vibrator small enough to slip inside of her, but remote controlled. It buzzed and twitched at random, enough to tease her, but not (yet) enough to get her off. That could wait for later! Hannah smiled in anticipation - there was a delight, and a pleasure, in delaying release. At least for a while, anyway. Hannah washed herself down again, sweaty from her sleep and her self-pleasure, noting that the shower controls were built for use with bound hands as well, the entire apartment designed for use with hands contorted into the mittens. Washing with the toy inside of her was nice, warm and soothing, even birdsong drifting in from somewhere outside. After toweling herself off, she found that breakfast had arrived. More traditional country fare, a bowl of porridge, with honey and fruit, and a spoon with a large, chunky handle. It was a lot easier to eat with her fingers free! Once that was done, she put the bowl back, the dumbwaiter clanking away. Throughout, she had been teased and buzzed, and could feel herself, loose, warm and wet, ready for something to plunge into her. Did she have time? Going through the day this excited, without a release would be a challenge! And Miss Coerator seemed the touchy type, although hopefully not touchy in a creepy way, not down there. The TV blinked, a clock showing. It was 8:45 already! Hannah grabbed her heels and strapped them on, then the mittens. Doing the left one was easy, but then the right was harder. She slid her hand in, having to use her mouth to snap it on shut. Just in time, as the door rattled open, Miss Coerator appearing. She was wearing very similar clothing to yesterday - red leather skirt and boots, a fine satin blouse that showed a deep cut of cleavage, a crimson choker around her neck. 'Good morning, Hannah.' Her eyes glanced at Hannah's hands and feet. 'My apologies, I forgot to release you yesterday. I have fresh ones for you today. And another tool for you. I trust you weren't overly inconvenienced?' 'No, Miss Coerator.' The woman's eyes hardened. 'I mean Mistress, sorry.' The woman approached, running a hand down Hannah's face. 'Do follow the proper etiquette, I wouldn't want to have to punish you. Now, shall we get you dressed?' She went to the wardrobe and unlocked it, fetching out another bag. The outfit was much the same as yesterday; another tight dress, backless, and with lacey ruffles peeking out from beneath the skirt. Hannah endured the woman's hands as they tugged and tweaked the dress into place. Then the thing inside of her buzzed into life, and she squirmed and twisted. She didn't have the chance to pull it out before, and with the mittens back on, there's no way she could get it out now! Miss Coerator was right on top of her and must have felt or heard the movement, a hand tickling down her back, making her shiver even more. 'Not catching a chill are you, my dear? I have a lot of other tasks I wish you to perform.' The buzzing died away, but Hannah knew that it would start again soon. 'I wouldn't want you sickening. I see that you managed to remove your panties - quite impressive, with your hands bound.' She gave Hannah a push, making her fall back so she was sitting on the bed. Then she ducked, hands against Hannah's legs, some slick material snapping and pulling against her skin, moving up her legs. Was it latex? They were pulled up around her waist, tight and smooth - latex panties, a slight pressure on her waist and crotch as they settled into place. Miss Coerator trailed a nail along them, teasing Hannah's wet pussy through the material, as the vibrator buzzed into life again, just for a moment. 'I really do hope you will concentrate on your work today, Hannah, you seem a little... distracted.' She ran her nails down Hannah's inner thigh, looking up at her with a slight smile. 'Now, stand. I have another tool for you.' There was no choice but to obey. Hannah stepped forward, Miss Coerator moving behind her, rustling in the bag again. Then a hand grabbed her hair, yanking on it, hard. As she opened her mouth to protest, something was pushed in, a rubbery prong sliding between her lips and teeth. A strap was buckled behind her head as she grunted protests, her tongue sliding uselessly around the prong. In front of her, partially obscuring her vision, was a feather duster, attached to her gag. She shook her head, feathers flicking around on the wand of the thing. 'Very good, maid Hannah. Now you can clean even better, isn't that right?' 'Mmmmpghh!' 'Excellent. Now, time for you to begin.' Miss Coerator tapped the tablet, sliding it into a sheath on Hannah's arm. 'Follow me. It would be most undignified if I had to attach a leash to that pretty choker of yours.' 'Mppphhh!' She wouldn't do that, would she? Miss Coerator walked towards the door, Hannah following, still tottering on the heels. The toy buzzed again, Hannah's knees weakening, her gait unsteady as she followed Miss Coerator down the hallway. She didn't turn around as she spoke. 'Do try and maintain correct posture.' What happened when the toy was out of range of the controller? Hannah had never gone walkabout with it. There was something about it in the manual, but she couldn't remember... Hopefully it would turn off. That would make sense, right? Miss Coerator led the way to a different room from before, unlocking the door to reveal deep shelving, all filled with statues, mostly of people fucking. As they enter, she received another buzz, this one only gentle. But she could already feel the latex panties getting wet! If she was kept like this all day, then she would be dripping in a few hours. Miss Coerator was saying something, but Hannah didn't hear it, trying not to show any expression from being pleased and teased. Miss Coerator smiled at Hannah, flicking the feather duster and forcing Hannah's head to move with it, then left. Of course, there was the loud "clunk" of the lock again, and she was sealed in. Immediately afterwards, a strong, sustained vibration almost brought her to her knees. |