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Suzanne's Slave By Maid2serveher Part I Madame Lesanne Benchcroft sipped her tea. "I summoned you here because my lovely niece Suzanne is extremely interested in your novels about damsels in distress." she said. "You seem to have an evil sense of the most wicked tortures a submissive young maiden might endure." I nodded graciously and leaned forward to sip my tea, maneuvering the best I could in my long white leather hobble skirt. "I presumed the novels were all autobiographical?" she said. "The heroine, 'Rhonda the Recalcitrant Rubber Recruit'' is really you? These are your fantasies!" I wore a prim smile. But I said nothing. I brushed a cake crumb off my long-sleeved white silk blouse and waited for my hostess to continue. "When I saw the author's name -- Peggy Ann Prisslips -- my heart sank." Madame Benchcroft said. "I knew Suzanne had fallen in love with the stories, and with the writer. I thought to myself: 'My niece has fallen for a lesbian.'" Madame Benchcroft pursed her lips, but then gave out a slight smile. "Thank goodness, I've learned your little secret, right Ms. Prisslips?" I was getting nervous. I tried to cross my legs, but my Victorian-style cr?me leather boots got caught up in the hem of my hobble skirt. So I merely squirmed a little and fluttered my long black lashes. "You understand that I cannot have my virginal young niece -- the queen of her finishing school class and a high- fashion latex clothing model in her college days - succumb to the seductions of another woman. My niece will only share her life with a slave she can dominate and torment, and who, in turn, can humiliate her in the most loving way. And that can only be a man, do you understand, Ms. Prisslips." I nodded affirmatively. I had seen Suzanne so many times at the local nightspots. I swooned at her charms, and spooned her from a distance. She was a goddess in my eyes. Yet I never had the courage to walk up to her and talk. So, yes, I nodded now. Affirmatively. Vigorously. Madame Benchcroft sighed. She stared at my long auburn tresses and soft rosy cheeks. "You do not know this, Ms. Prisslips, but I am very familiar with your publisher, Bee And Dee Books. In fact, I am a minority owner. I hold about 15 percent of the stock. So I rang them up and made some discreet inquiries about you." I closed my eyes. I knew what was coming. "You are a brilliant author, Ms. Prisslips, but your real name is Jean Paul Pouffyfrills, isn't it. You are also a obsessive crossdresser, fetishist, and masochist, aren't you?" I sat stiffly in my chair. I had no sense of what to say. "No response?" Madame Benchcroft sighed. "All those novels, all those wicked words, and now, when it is time to confront the truth, you are speechless. What shame! I have handpicked you for my niece, you little wimp! You are the same age. You visit the same clubs and know the same people. And, from the bulge I saw popping through your hobble dress when I mentioned my niece, you have the same sexual needs and urges. Am I wrong?" I closed my eyes again. "I am offering you a chance - one chance - to turn your fantasies into reality, Mr. Pouffyfrills! If I am wrong, if you do not want to play this little game, please leave. Nothing more will be said. Your secret is safe. Your writings will continue to give my niece a modicum of satisfaction. "But if you are ready to become a living, breathing, rubberized Rhonda, to share life and all of its displeasures with my niece, the lovely Submissive Slut Suzanne, hold out your gloved hands - NOW! -- and led me lead you into a most wonderful nether world." I stared as my matronly stern yet elegantly charming hostess. I was not prepared for this. Could I surrender now? I thought about leaving. Quickly. Without comment. But then it hit me: my whole life had been a fantasy. Wasn't it time for a little reality? The truth was this: I was not prepared to walk away from this moment. I would hate myself. "If you are not your heroine, Rhonda, you should leave." Madame Benchcroft said, pushing for a response. "But if you stay, I will take you into the ante room and prepare you for the arrival of my niece. If you are what I think, and you are truly ready to be the slave of your dreams, I'm telling you for a final time to hold out your hands." I closed my eyes one final time and took a deep, long breath. Then I held out my gloved hand limply. It was my confession and my submission. Madame Benchcroft rose and pulled me out of my chair. "I thought so." she said, kissing me on my painted lips. "You and Suzanne going to make a great pair of bondage sluts." Madame Benchcroft turned me toward the anteroom and wasted no time in ordering me to strip. Two minutes later, I was adorned in nothing but the birthday suit of one Jean Paul Pouffyfrills. Madame never again called me by my male name. I was Ms. Prisslips out of costume; otherwise, I was Rhonda the Recalcitrant Rubber Recruit. Madame Benchcroft took my manliness in her hand to study it. "My late rubber sissy husband should have been so blessed." she said. Then she dropped my balls and the subject. She handed me a clear pair of pink ruffled rubber panties. "Wear these." she said. I pulled the panties slowly up my legs and over my stiffening member. Then she handed me a short, pink-rubber dress. I pulled it over my head, but it fell only to the very tops of my panties. Madame Benchcroft then attached a 2 1/2 inch pink leather collar about my neck, along with matching wrist, ankle and knee restraints. Next came a pink rubber cap that hid all my hair and made me look bald. Then she fitted a pink gag with a screw-in, three-inch, inflatable plug. She pushed it into my mouth, secured it, and pumped it up. I was mum. I was muzzled. She topped it all off with a white plastic bonnet and ruffled white apron. She padlocked my wrists together behind me and locked my knee restraints together. Between us, dear reader, I was ready to submit to Madame Benchcroft right there. I could not miss the smell of her perfume as she had me fitted with my fetters. I heard her girdle shift as she reached around me. I thought I heard petticoats rustle beneath her blue silk Edwardian dress. I was dizzy with delight. "Comfy?" she asked. "M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m." I purred. "Good. Now return to your chair and we will await my niece." I hobbled slowly back to my chair, breathing deeply through my nose as I waddled. She watched from behind. "You make an excellent little girl slave." she said. "Too bad you're my niece's plaything." I nodded and batted my eyelashes. "Sit, flirt!" she scolded. "We are monogamous in this household. Understand, Rhonda!" I nodded affirmatively. Still, inside, I was ready to submit to this lady. "Keep your head down, Rhonda, and your eyes lowered." she said. "Let us wait for Suzanne." Ten minutes later, a young maiden in a raincoat came in from the drizzle outside, followed by a figure completely shrouded in a shiny wet black cape. The figure in the cape was Suzanne. Suzanne's cape lacked the usual hand slits, and she was wearing some sort of total head bonnet. She blinked at me from behind her mask. "Submissive Slut Suzanne is in punishment today, Rhonda." Lady B. said. "Our contract allows me complete control of her. Obviously, she needs discipline." I looked at Suzanne's eyes and saw a look of urgency, as if she couldn't wait to explain herself. But clearly she was fettered and gagged. As she looked at my costume, her eyes dancing from my plastic panties to my gag to my restraints. She moaned. "We may have moments when the two of you can talk," Lady B said, "but unless Suzanne's disposition improves, you will both be mum." Lady B reached for a remote control device on the coffee table next to her and pointed it at Suzanne. A humming noise came from within Suzanne's bound form. She began to shake against her bonds, writhing from side to side, up and down, as if she was being given a mild shock -- somewhere. But where? "A mild form of aversion therapy." is all Lady B said. The maiden began unwrapping Suzanne. Underneath the cape was another black rubberized garment, and I saw why Suzanne was not able to help herself. The black rubber garment enclosed her completely, like a sack. It wrapped tightly around her from her ankles to her neck, with her arms drawn behind her in a pinion and secured with a four-inch black rubber strap. A thin rubber hood concealed her head. Suzanne stood silently as the maiden undid her fastenings. At last the sack came apart, her arms popped free from the inner sleeves. As the zipper was undone to her feet, she stepped backwards and out of the sack. The maiden removed her mask. Suzanne took a deep breath through full red lips, then tossed back her long brunette hair. She was lovely. She was dressed in a high-neck, short red rubber mini-dress that revealed white ruffled rubber panties. Her slim legs were laced into thigh-high boots. The maid parted Suzanne's lips to reveal a gag that appeared to be wedged into her teeth and over her tongue by a dainty crank. The maiden worked the crank, but instead of loosening it, she made Suzanne's face longer by cranking it up. Soon, Suzanne was unable to put her lips together, and her eyes glared as the maid fit her arms into glove-like bondage mittens. Suzanne cried behind her gag. "I don't like the look I'm getting." Lady B said. "Maid Mindy, blindfold her." Then, turning to me, Lady B., "Suzanne has had her first glimpse of her slave. I'm sure she is fantasizing about taking you out to visit her friends." I moaned and twisted about, ignoring Lady B.'s directive to sit still. "Shame on you." Lady B. said. "I shall have to teach you not to disobey me." She pulled a clear plastic bag about half the size of a regular pillowcase out of a drawer. The bag had a drawstring around one end. She pulled the bag over my head and knotted the drawstring around my neck so that a small amount of fresh air could be drawn in with each breath. Still, my nose and my gag were snug against the plastic itself. I could see around me, but images were foggy. She reached into the drawer again and pulled out a much larger bag. She slipped the bag under my bound legs and ordered me to stand. She rolled the bag up my body until it reached my neck, where again she knotted the drawstring. The bag was tight enough that I felt like a sausage. I could not sit back down. She clapped her hands and two maids entered the room. "Dispose of her." Lady B. said. I was retired to my room, strapped to my bed by my collar and my ankles, still wearing my polka-dotted panty outfit, still gagged. A television set was affixed over my bed, and the monitor began showing illustrated scenes from Rhonda books. I could make out the images even though my plastic head bag was foggy and crinkled as I exhaled and inhaled, my body sweating in its own bag. My books didn't have drawings, and the words in my books hardly drew the mental images as crisply or severely as they were depicted in these illustrations. The drawings showed rubberized victims being shamed into submission, often by being bound, gagged, blindfolded and secured to a variety of apparatus. The straps were so tight that where the victims weren't strapped, their body parts bulged out. The eyes showed the horror of their confinement. My curiosity was piqued. Where did these drawings come from? I saw a signature. The drawings were signed S...S...S. Submissive Slut Suzanne, I wondered? Were these her fantasies? As the pages turned, I saw more drawings rubberized women chained or bound with rope and gagged. Some were tethered into straight jackets. Others were bound in head-to-toe rubber sheets. And then, suddenly, the video stopped. Suzanne herself was hovering above me, as elegant as before, but enveloped in a slim floor-length nightgown of white rubber. The gown had a high neck, but the breast area was cut out, and a red bra poked through. Her sleeves were attached to the sides of her gown, ending in mittens. Her head was encased in a black hood. She evidently was still gagged. A maid accompanied her. The maid pulled down a metal bar about 14'' wide. Nipple clamps dangled from the rod's ends by about 6'' of wire rope. She adjusted the pulleys, reached for one of the clamps and began to open and close it. I tried begging the maid to stop. But she ran her hand across one of my nipples, smoothing out the rubber and tweaking the nipple area so that she could firmly attach the clamp. She did. Pain! I squirmed and moaned. Suzanne seemed to laugh behind her bonds. The maid repeated the process with the other nipple. Again, I moaned. The maid used the pulleys to raise the bar, adjusting it so that both sides rose at once, until I thought my nipples were going to be pulled from my body. "Such a slut." the maid said. The clamps were killing me. But the maid pulled the pulleys higher, forcing my body to arch upward as much as it could. "This will make sure you don't sleep through your first night of punishment." the maid said. I sucked hard on my gag, trying to breath through my plastic head bag, trying not to think about my breasts being pulled grossly upwards. The maid released the knot in the head bag, only to re- tighten it more securely. She took her rubber gloved hand and rubbed it over the front of my face, forcing the plastic even tighter against my face to the point that even less fresh air was reaching my nostrils. She pinched my nose shut. I could not breath. She let go and I struggled for air. "She must really love humiliation." the maid said to Suzanne. "I guess she hasn't had enough?" I squealed behind my gag, trying to implore the maid to stop. My nipples ached. I could barely breath. But the maid just laughed. "What is your command, mistress?" she asked Suzanne. "Shall I go on?" Suzanne nodded. The maid reached under my bed and pulled a blindfold out, strapping it over my eyes. She reached across the bed and pulled out a strap that buckled over my forehead and, cinching down at the sides, pulled my head deep against the plastic mattress. That eliminated the small pocket of air left in the bag. The plastic now clung everywhere to my face. I could get fresh air only in one nostril. Was that enough? I heard the two of them leave my side. I drifted off into a daze, my body still arched, my nipples still stretched by the bar above my bed. Part II When I regained consciousness, two masked maids at my side. They were releasing my bonds. First, off came the nipple clamps. Ow! Then they reached around my neck and slowly loosened my head bag. Ah-h-h, fresh air. I was breathing in and out like I had just finished running down the street. The maids ignored me. They released me from the mattress and carried me into the bathroom, where they undid my body bag, my bonds and gag. My whole body ached at the freedom. Then I saw Suzanne. She was in the same outfit as earlier, but minus the gag and bondage. I looked at her. She was beautiful. Those dark, dancing eyes. Those pouty lips. She smelled of rubber and perfume. I wanted to kiss her right there and beg her to make me her rubber slave for life. "You're quite cute in that outfit." she said. "Did you enjoy our little playtime last night?" I dropped my eyes to the ground. "Answer me or I will have you re-bound and gagged." "Yes, mistress, I did." "Good." she said. "Take a quick shower. You smell of sweat. And then your punishment will begin?" Begin? What had I just been through? Suzanne turned and reached into a nearby closet while I went into the shower, guided firmly by the maids, who scrubbed me like a kitchen sink. While the maids toweled me off, Suzanne pulled the sack she had worn earlier out of the closet. She also got out a rubber white bra, ruffled pink rubber panties, her red miniskirt, a rubber corselet and black rubber stockings, and her 6-inch ballet boots. "They stretch." she said. "Although they'll be more snug on you." Me? Although Suzanne was a good three inches taller than me, I was a good 30 pounds heavier than her, with a bigger butt and yes, a bigger chest. I knew where the squeeze would be. Suzanne motioned me to re-dress. I did only after I looked in her eyes and saw the hostility I would face if I didn't. Everything fit tightly, very tightly, but the maids managed to tug and pull me into the panties, the bra, the stockings, the mini-skirt and the laced-up boots. I already felt restrained. Then came the full-body sack, which was rolled up me slowly, with the maids and Suzanne all pushing and pulling and prodding and laughing at my groans. The sack fit so snugly that the lines of my interior garments sowed through clearly. Finally, the fingerless arms of the sack were filled with my flesh, and the sack was zipped up the back to the top of my neck, which made it hard to breath deeply. Still, I exhaled, thinking it was all over. It wasn't. Suzanne held up another rubber sack, this one with stays in its sides from toes to neck, and laces in the back. "Step inside." she said. I did. I held the sides as it was laced up my legs. She swatted my thighs to move them even closer together. I was effectively hobbled into a standing bondage. She kept going, inserting my arms into long tubes that kept my arms pinned to my sides, my hands pointed straight down. She laced me up to the top of my neck, then secured the stretch buckle at the back. She drew my elbows behind me with a four-inch rubber strap and pulled. I was cinched. My real bosom was crushed against the rubber, but this garment had a fake bosom, and it shot forward, arching my back upward. She patted my belly. "Breathe in," Suzanne said, "and hold it." I did. Every lace was tightened again. Finally, she let me exhale. I breathed out, but my bound form stayed rigid. "We're having fun, right slave?" "Slav..." I started to ask, but she popped a blow-up gag into my mouth and fastened it behind. I moaned as if to say that this wasn't what she wore. "I know, my gag was different, but I thought you should feel what it's like to have a penis in your mouth." My eyes widened. I screamed into my gag as she squeezed the pump. She smiled back as she unraveled a clear plastic hood and pulled it over my head. "You talk about a makeover." Submissive Slut Suzanne said. "Now you look like me." I looked into the mirror and saw the image of a bald Submissive Slut Suzanne, with the red pouty lips, the deep brown eyes, the high cheeks, and staring back at me. I tried to scream. "Good. Scream. This way I can tell if the pump is working." I felt the pump inflate the inner gag in the shape of penis, swelling to the sides and roof of my mouth, but not enough to make me gag. My screams were virtually mute by now. I sighed. "Surrender already?" Submissive Slut Suzanne teased. "I expect more fight from my slave. Follow me." I did. Slowly. Mincingly. I would guess I had a half-inch movement with every step. I couldn't really tell because the collar in my bondage sack kept my head up too high, and I could not bend over to see my boots. The maids helped me. Boy, did they help me. They pinched me here. They swatted me there. My journey to the next room took at least an hour. But finally, we made it. It was a huge, black-rubber lined room with racks, bars and tables, and more constricting paraphernalia than you'd find in the dungeon of your average well-stocked Inquisitor. In the middle of the room stood a large, chunky blonde woman dressed in a rubber dress with armbands bearing a Nazi-like insignia. "Maid Mindy." said Submissive Slut Suzanne, "I brought a playmate for your bride, Lady B, tonight." "Very well." said the blonde woman, motioning to a metal collar hanging to her left. "Hang her there." Soon I was collared with a large metal collar. Maid Mindy strode toward a huge, high missle-shaped cylinder across the room, and waved off Suzanne like a parent would a child. Suzanne exited as Maid Mindy staring into a glass porthole in the middle of the cylinder, she said: "How is your sauna coming, bitch?" I could hear a muzzled voice coming from inside the porthole, and finally recognized that Lady B was inside, shackled and contrite. She, too, was a rubberized lesbian bondage freak. By choice. "Time to turn up the heat." said Maid Mindy as she reached for a switch on the side. Lady B. cried. Maid Mindy headed in my direction and released the chain from my collar, but not the collar itself. She attached a leash and led me over to a little carpeted corner. "You must learn to walk in your bondage." she said. "I want you to make your way along the edge of this carpet. Every time you pass the far corner, and electric eye will trip a counter. When you get to 10 complete trips, you may stop. But if you try to take a short cut, you must start over and your lap number will double. But first I must re-secure your bonds as tightly as possible." More walking? I moaned behind my gag. "Oh," said Maid Mindy, "does it sound too easy?" M-m-m-p-h-h-h, I moaned. "Okay. We'll fix that. How about a steel helmet for you, and a posture collar so you can keep that head up higher." By the time Maid Mindy was through, I had learned not to moan ever again. My eyed were fixed on the ceiling by a combination of the posture collar and the helmet and the adjustable rods affixed between them. Over it all, Maid Mindy wrapped a thick plastic bag with a small tube, about a quarter-inch in diameter and about six inches long, as the only passage for fresh air. My journey was going to be a lot harder than I thought. And I only had myself to blame. The eighth trip around the room, I had to stop and lean against a wall. I had to close my eyes and rest. "Sleeping on the punishment tour?" Maid Mindy asked, her voice jolting me wide awake. "You are clearly out of shape. Follow me." We ended up in front of an exercise machine. Maid Mindy clapped her hands and the two maids appeared, removing my helmet, posture collar, and the two sacks. I was down to more "normal attire" -- the red mini-dress. I was still wearing the ballet boots, and was still gagged. My hands were tied into rubber, elbow-length mittens. "Have a seat." said Maid Mindy, motioning me to straddle myself on the seat of the exercise machine, which worked like a stationary bike. "Now I'll secure you before I cover you with this rubber blanket for the night and switch on your preprogrammed exercise program." I was soon re-shackled with my arms restrained in cuffs on long metal pools, and my booted feet shackled into the stirrups. My neck was fastened into a plastic collar like one they use on whiplash patients, except this one had a chin bar and straps. I was strapped into the chin bar and an O-ring attached to the straps at the top of my head was clipped to a pulley behind me. My head was pulled up and back, so that I was again looking at the ceiling. Maid Mindy was not through. I felt her playing through my bra, making my nipples hard, one at a time. Then she attached nipple clamps, this time with two-pound, pear-shaped weights attached to them. I wanted to moan. But I knew better. Then Maid Mindy pulled a heavy rubber tarp over my body and zipped it closed around the edge of my frame. I immediately felt as if there was little oxygen. And the darkness was extremely hot. I heard a motor scream on, and my body was involuntarily convulsing up, down, to the sides, and everywhere, my rubber cocoon stretching to shape the movement. Whenever my body would be stretched to expose my butt, a huge paddle would strike it from the rear, from outside the tarp. My body would pull forward, and the paddle would strike. I was now slave to a machine. The only way I could stop getting hit hard enough to hurt was to tense my butt when I knew the paddle would strike. "After three hours, the machine will stop." I heard Maid Mindy say. "You will be left frozen in your position at that point for four hours. But at least you will be able to sleep." Yes, the machine finally stopped. And yes, I finally slept. And yes, the machine went on again four hours later, the WHACK of the paddle jarred me back to consciousness. "One more hour of punishment as a wake-me-up," I heard Maid Mindy say, "and then you'll meet Melba." Finally, it all stopped. The maids came and unzipped my rubber prison. I was exhausted. They strapped me to a rubber-covered gurney and carted me off to a bright, white room. I was wheeled to the middle of the room, still fettered, and still gagged. A tall, heavy-set woman in a white latex nurse's uniform hovered over me. "I am Melba, your guide and Lady for the weekend." she said. "Welcome to my dungeon. I've read all your books, so I know how you think. I know how to humble you, and I know that it will drive you mad knowing that your new humiliatrix is really a boy, just like you!" I shook my head from side to side. But Melba just ignored me. She spoke: "If you agree to my complete commands for the weekend, blink once. This will be your implied contract of slavery. If you do not agree, you will put back in a cocoon and left for the weekend." I must have blinked once without knowing -- likely at the thought of being punished by this chubby, homely looking drag dom. "Good slave." Melba said. "We'll have fun this weekend!" I hastily blinked twice, trying to signal Melba that the first blink was a mistake. She ignored me. Our deal had been sealed with my blink. The two maids released my bonds and subsequently all of my attire, even my panties. I felt school-boy shy. But Melba never seemed to size me up. She ordered me to shower. After I dried off, she wasted no time fitting a clear gum rubber blow-up gag in my mouth and around my head. She inflated it until my mouth felt swollen. Looking in the mirror, I could tell it had painted purple pouty lips. She unscrewed the pump. She then took a clear plastic cap and placed it on my head. It fit almost like a bathing cap, except that it came over my eyes and down to the bridge of my nose. I could still see, but when I looked in the mirror, the areas around my eyes looked like they had been painted over with garish green eye shadow and light-brown eyeliner. Over all this, she attached a form-fitting clear gum rubber hood on my head. It had two breathing holes. It also had one hole at the mouth area, and Melba pulled the pump gag inflation stem through it and started to pump my gag up until my cheeks popped out like a little girl with the mumps. Melba then took a long, pageboy styled red wig off the dresser. She matched up the Velcro tabs in it to those on my hood and stood back. We both looked in the mirror. I looked like a redheaded, fat-cheeked Betty Page. Melba patted my bound butt. "Good start." she said. "I want to see how excited you get as we proceed. I think you'll have a growing interest in our little game." Melba then reached into a drawer and pulled out a flesh- colored gum rubber bra. She hooked it together at the back and then separated each cup area, pressing against the soft plastic inner lining that pressed against my nipples. She reached into a pocket of her leather dress and pulled out two long, large electrical clamps. She squeezed the area around each nipple and pushed as much flesh between the open clamps as she could, then let go. I winced each time, but the teeth did not hurt as much as I expected. I could feel the pain, but I was not consumed by it. I did notice that each clamp had small round transmitter attached to its end. Without talking, Melba inflated the bra with the pump, using the stems under each nipple. I must have looked like I had 48DD breasts. Still, my nipples hurt but didn't ache. Melba reached for a small radio-controlled device on her belt. "This will fix you'" she said, pressing a button and holding it. I felt electrical jolts on the clamps. It HURT. I knew I could do nothing but wiggle and squirm and moan. I started panting beneath my muzzled head bondage. "Good." said Melba. Melba grabbed a long-waisted canary yellow rubber corselet out of the dresser and wrapped it around me. It cinched up the back and ran from my neck down to the top of my pubic hair and around to the below the bottom of my butt. On my butt were two inflatable pads that Melba pumped up to give me the appearance of having a huge butt. The corselet had eight short garters. She next pulled a lime green plastic bondage maiden uniform off the bed. The outfit had white plastic piping and lace around the skirt and around the high-collared neck. It zipped up the back. I felt my being forced backward by the metal collar lining. Melba locked the neck clasp with a 6-inch lock that was clearly overkill. I found myself staring almost straight up again. What is it with these collars, I wondered? I felt a draft in front, which told me that the flared little skirt did not hide my sex. Next Melba laced me into a heavy-duty, lime-green, plastic-lined single glove. She attached small gold chains from the wrist area and the top of the glove to clasp at my neck and pulled so that the device was stiff and elevated behind me, pulling my bound hands away from my dress and allowing complete access to anyone who wanted to paddle my padded rear. Next came heavy, stiff, mesh lime-green rubber stockings. I could bend my knees, and even sit, but the stockings pinched and grabbed and let me know that they were designed for my discomfort. Then Melba fitted me into a pair of high-top, lace-up, 8-inch white opera heels. When I stood up, the heels forced my body forward, and I had to learn to balance this forward thrust against the backwards arch of my neck. Melba forced me to practice walking around the room. I kept bumping into objects I could not see. I was panting behind my hood again when Melba finally let me sit back down. "What am I going to do with your little girl thing?" she asked. "I could leave you exposed down there, or strap you into a pussy harness and lead you around by a leash. Or I could cover it up with some nice frilly pantaloons." She thought for a minute and said: "I know." Part III She held up a pair of lime-green plastic panties for me to see. They were ruffled in the back, but smooth in the front. They were thin enough that when Melba put her hand inside the panties, the clear outline of her fingers was evident. It was clear that I would be pantied, but my privates would still show. Even with the two words written across the front of the panties in black script: "MELBA'S SLAVE." "Those who see you will not have to ask whose slave you are, and since you won't be in a position to tell them anyway, these panties will tell them all they need to know." She ordered me to sit, and as she pulled the panties over my crotch, I was able to lean forward enough to look into a full-length mirror and see that the padding behind me spread the front panel tightly from hip to hip and over my privates. The words "MELBA'S SLAVE" stretched from one hip to the other. Melba added the finishing touches: canary yellow ankle straps with a four-inch chain, and a lime green, 3-inch leather collar with matching two-foot braided leash. She then took rolls of Polaroid pictures. She posed me standing and sitting, taking overall shots and close-ups. She then showed me the photos. The shot of my reflected a garish, young Betty Page look- alike, all bound up with nowhere to go. Melba grabbed my leash. "Showtime." she said. I followed him out the door, pleased that my hobbles at least allowed me to waddle behind her with more than speed than when I had entered the room. We went down the hall and into a large room at the end of the hallway. As we neared the room, I heard the dim sounds of several conversations. As we walked through the door, Melba ordered me to stop and bend forward. I looked around. There were at least 50 people in the room, all dressed in fetish gear. "What a beautiful slave," I heard one black leather-clad mistress say to Melba, "but what have you done with Rubberized Rhonda." Melba pulled hard up hard on my leash, which forced me to stand completely erect. "Look at the panties." Melba said to the mistress. "They will tell you Rubberized Rhonda's fate." The mistress laughed and Melba ordered me further in the room, to an area where there were several tables with chairs. "Sit." she said. I squatted meekly until I felt my but hit a low stool, and scooted over until I was on it. "You may lean forward so that you may see." Melba said. I bent my body forward until my high-arched neck allowed me to look around. A woman was seated across from me in a flaming red leather mini dress, her legs spread apart to reveal shocking white and pink panties. "This is Betty Page, nee Rubberized Rhonda." Melba said. The woman, Clarisse, smirked. "Marvelous." she said. "And where," Melba asked, "is Submissive Slut Suzanne?" "Right here." said Clarisse, waving behind her. I looked at the glistening black, armless statue behind her. "Right here." Clarisse said again. I studied the motionless shiny rubber figurine and realized that the molded form was really Suzanne, wrapped into a head-to-toe rubber sheath. I finally fixed on the tiny eyeholes, and saw Suzanne staring at me, shocked but mummified. "Her arms are wrapped tightly in rubber straps behind her." Clarisse said. "I've got an electronically controlled dildo inside both cavities, and another device for her nipple clamps. Watch." Clarisse held a button on her gadget and Suzanne's waist wiggled slightly. She held down another and her chest wiggled. But I became distracted because when Clarisse pressed the second button, my nipple clamps started to jolt me. I moaned to Melba in protest. "Oh, sorry." said Clarisse. "I had that device on broadcast. It obviously shook a few people up." I looked across the room. A diapered and pinafored man was moaning behind his pacifier gag; a woman in a gold leather corselet and beige straightjacket was twisting and moaning behind her ball gag, and a back-to-back bound and gagged plastic bondage maiden and butler were squirming and crying. All of them had obviously been triggered into pain by Clarisse and her remote control. "That's okay." said Melba, waving her hands at Clarisse's electronic torture device. "I forgot to tell my slave that she might be punished for the sins of others. Leave it on broadcast. That's half the fun." "Very well." said Clarisse. "Are you going to display Rhonda?" "Yes." said Melba. "Let's see how well she plays with others." She grabbed my leash again and motioned me to get up. She guided me over to a brightly lit area and attached the end of my single glove to a pulley. She pushed a button on the wall and my gloved hands rose skyward. When Melba stopped, my ass was exposed, my single-gloved arched high, my body stooped, but my hooded head at eye level with the bottom of her white latex outfit. She pulled up the front of her dress so that I could see the outline of her panties. My eyes widened as I stared at her panties. What I saw was the outline of a penis beneath the panties. Melba is a transvestite? I couldn't help it. I moaned loudly. "Now you can see a little of the trouble that's coming your way." she said, rubbing her panties against my face. She patted me on the ass and left me hanging while she returned to Clarrise and Suzanne. How embarrassing, I thought. Dominated by a drag nurse. Was she going to try to have her way with me? All I wanted was to be Suzanne's slave. But Suzanne was wrapped up right now and in no position to rescue me. I gazed around the room and saw that at least half a dozen patrons were checking me out. The diaper-dressed man toting her diaper bag came over with his mistress, who wore a white rubber Blouse and black rubber hobble skirt and red boots. "What do you think, Hiram?" the mistress said. "Should I spank her?" Hiram sucked in and out on her pacifier. The mistress walked behind me. I felt her touch my butt and rub it. By now my gum rubber hood was steamy and it made it hard for me to see. But I could make out Hiram's smile as his mistress played with my buttock and my crotch. A crowd formed. Soon, I was just hanging there while mistresses, masters and slaves toyed with my panted ass and occasionally using their remote controls to jolt my nipples. Finally, they tired of me and left me alone. As my "normal" breathing returned, I could see more clearly across the room, and I saw a couple of male rubberized bondage maidens wrapping four-inch thick belts around the rubberized statue that was Suzanne. They belted her first at the waist, causing her belly and hips to swell. They belted her just below her breasts, and just above her breasts, causing her breasts to explode. They belted her from her chin to her nose, forcing her cheeks to balloon outward. And then they started swatting at her form with foot-long whips of rope. My vision was cut off by Melba, who had slipped out and re- dressed herself. She now stood in front of me in a high- neck purple evening dress with a slit from the hip on down. She looked even taller in 6-inch black heels and a beehive blonde hairdo. She released me from my chained single glove and I collapse to the floor. To my surprise, she let me lay there while she released the chain between my ankles and replaced it with a three-foot wide spreader bar. Suddenly, I felt my feet arch up in the air. Melba was hanging me upside down, slowly, gradually, so as not to ruin my outfit. Finally, my head was about a foot off the floor. The flared bottom of my dress fell over my breasts. My corselet and pantied buns were in full view. My single glove rocked free behind me, and my still-collared head faced the floor. Another pulley from the corner of the ceiling was attached to the wrist area of my single glove, and the winch pulled my gloved arms and my upper body toward the wall. My knees bent and my arms twisted. I was now at a funny angle, with my eyes fixed on the floor behind me. My arms strained. Melba grabbed a belt and started to paddle my ass. I tried to scream by my gag muffled my cries. And cry I did, as my ass turned rosy red. Then Melba left me to hang. And hang. Many hours later, as the party thinned, Melba came back to unshackle me and to lead me back to the bondage room. After being allowed to shower, I was allowed to eat some bread and water, my first meal in at least a day. Then it was back to bondage. I was cinched into a bizarre rubber corset with huge, liquid filled breasts. A rubber penis harness was fitted into my sex and around it. I was dressed in a black, frilly rubber plastic bondage maiden's dress, rubber hose and boots, a black wig, and a freaky gas mask. I was handcuffed and leashed and led back into the now empty entertainment area, where I was led to a hanging bar. My neck was locked into the base of the bar, and my gloved hands were attached to shackles at either side of the bar. My legs were elevated so that they wrapped around a bar behind me. Melba busied himself without saying a word, and hooked attachments to my heavy hood. When she turned it on, the mask inhaled and exhaled on its own, blowing up and squeezing itself tightly against my face and gagged lips. She adjusted the machine and the mask blew up, but when it came against my face, it stayed for what seemed like ever. I couldn't breathe. When it blew up, I gasped for air and held my breath as it came toward my face again. "Ah, perfect." Melba said. "Good night, slave." I have no idea how long it was left this way. People came and left the room and ignored me for hours, except to stop and laugh at my predicament. They were maids and butlers and busboys, all busy cleaning up after the party. I kept thinking I was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. But instead I found that my constriction kept my body wide- awake. Finally, as the morning sun peeked through the windows of the room. Melba and the maids returned. They let me loose and returned me to the room where I dressed. I was stripped and allowed to show once again. Melba told me it was time to begin my diaper training. Melba handed me a pair of see-through plastic panties, decorated with a red checkered pattern, but clear enough that you could see my privates. They had heavy-duty elastic bands in the leg and waist openings, and were relatively loose. She then handed me a matching baby dress, bib and bonnet to match. I put them all on. Melba grabbed a container of baby powder, reached inside my plastic panties and emptied the can of powder into the Front and back of my panties, snapping them back into place. She stuck an oversized pacifier into my mouth and tied it together at the back of my head. She wrapped my hands in Clear plastic wrap until they were clearly bound in a ball, then secured locked plastic mittens to them. "You won't be getting out of this mess anytime soon." she said. "You will learn to give up control of everything, including your need to potty." She then secured me into a giant potty chair with straps around my forehead, neck, arms, elbows, wrists, waist, knees, And ankles. Into the air hole of my pacifier she stuck a thin plastic tube attached to a faucet above me. I felt the trickle of soothing ice water run into my mouth. I started to swallow. "Drink up," said Melba, "but don't wet your panties until I command you." The first 10 minutes I swallowed normally, and began to feel as if I had enough. Built the flow kept coming and I could Not stop it. Soon, my stomach felt as if it would burst, and I had to pee badly. Still, I tired to hold it. When Melba returned, She was wearing a clear plastic, floor-length sheath dress. She wore matching plastic panties and bra, which let me see the Outline of her sex. She was carrying nipple clamps and once again began to massage my nipples through my plastic baby Dress. These nipple clamps hurt. She unzipped the slit on her skirt up to her waist and straddled the potty chair, her flat chest in my face, her ass on my crotch. She wiggled sexily. "I'd think you want to pee?" she said. She reached for a shoelace beside the chair and tied it to the ends of the nipple clamps. She pulled on the shoelace and my nipples followed her movements. "But I guess you want to play." I really needed to pee. But with Melba's weight on me, I could not. "You sit here until your potty chair is full of pee." she said, dropping the shoelace but leaving the clamps on. I felt relieved. Soon, I heard to sound of pee hitting my plastic panties. Then I discovered the true horror of my bondage. Not a drop fell into the canister. Instead, my panties held all my pee. My panties would hold a lot more pee before any started to trickle into the pot. My butt started to itch from the pee. "You're going to have one helluva of panty rash by the time you're done." Melba said. "But since you're going to be all tied up for several hours, I've decided to give you a special treat." Melba attached a breathing apparatus around my nose. The line ran to a small, clear canister behind the chair. "Inside this canister is the punishment plastic that Suzanne wore while in this chair yesterday." Melba said. "I thought you'd enjoy her smell." The smell was actually a combination of pee, baby powder, perfume and sweat. Once again, the thought of Suzanne undergoing the same punishment got me excited. "I can't wait until tomorrow." said Melba. "That's your wedding day."