The Doll's House Hotel - Chapter Ten (Conclusion) free porn video

The Doll's House Hotel - Chapter Ten By AmyAmy. December 5th, 2005 This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity between the characters portrayed here to real people living or deceased is entirely coincidental. The author retains all rights to this work, except in allowing that it may be archived and distributed for non-commercial purposes, providing all text remains intact, including this notice. This story deals with 'adult' themes of a highly sexual nature, including 'fetishism', bondage, domination, non-consensual sex acts, use of sex-toys, costumes and sexual transformation in an unrealistic and fantastical manner. If you find such topics disturbing, or if it is illegal for you to read about them, stop reading here. "I don't hear you begging," said Lindsay. I realised that if I wanted to cum, I would need to start debasing myself immediately. I did want to cum. I wanted it so much that nothing else mattered right now. For a few moments longer I hesitated, distracted by the sensation at my chest, and unable to focus on what might satisfy Lindsay. "Please Mistress," I whimpered. "Please let me cum," I hesitated, then I remembered. "Please, fuck me up the ass. Please Mistress, fuck me up the ass nice and hard. Do me hard. I like it that way. Make me cum. Please..." "Good pet, good," she said, gently stroking my head through my rubber hood. "Tell me, why do you like it hard up the ass?" Again, for an instant I couldn't remember the right words, and then it became quite clear to me what she wanted to hear. I didn't want to say it. It felt as if by saying it I somehow made it real and true in a way it hadn't been before. Also, I felt silly saying it. Nobody could say such things and not feel ridiculous, could they? Did that mean I had a fragment of pride remaining in me somewhere? "Please Mistress, I want you to fuck me hard up the ass because I am such a slut. I'm such a dirty slut for your big hard cock up my ass. I want it so much. I need to come. Please Mistress, you know I will do anything to cum, just give me a chance," I wheedled. I was trying to sound sexy, but feeling at once absurd, contemptible and weak. I was, as I'd said, a slut: a slave to my desire. Like an addict, it didn't seem to matter how I got it. I wanted that release. In fact I needed it, and it was plain there was only one way to get it. "Good. Good my slutty pet. I love it when you are hungry for cock," she said, still stroking my head. "So, you will do absolutely anything for a chance to cum my pet? Are you sure?" "Yes Mistress, your pet will do anything, anything at all," I said sincerely. "One day I might ask that 'anything' of you pet. I hope you will remember and keep your promise," she said strangely. "Will you keep your promise pet?" "Yes, yes Mistress. I will remember. I will keep the promise," I said. My chest was getting sore now, though it felt like the sucking had stopped for the moment. It seemed to have removed all the air from inside the domes, and there was nothing left to suck. I could feel my poor swollen nipples glued against the inside of the domes. "That's good. However, from now on, you must not refer to yourself as 'I', you are my pet and that's what I want to hear. Say it!" She demanded. "Yes Mistress, I am your pet, um, your pet understands Mistress," I said, hastily trying to cover my error. "Remind me now pet, of what you want, why you want it, what you will do to get it, and how you will remember your promise," she ordered. I hesitated, dreading making a mess of her orders. "Please Mistress, your pet wants to cum by being fucked hard up the ass. I, er, your pet, really needs it because your pet is such a slut. Your pet will do, um, anything, anything at all to thank you just for that chance - any time you ask - any time. Your slutty pet promises and will always remember the promise. Please Mistress, let me cum," I said. I amazed myself that I managed it with only one real slip. I should probably have mentioned being fucked up the ass, but I really was impressed that I'd done as well as I had. "That's good pet," she said, stroking my head. Much to my initial relief, she unhooked my nose ring. However, this was followed by a considerable extension of the spreader bar between my ankles. My legs were now stretched far apart. I could feel a strong tension in the inside of my legs. "Here's what you asked for pet, open up nice and wide," said Lindsay. Then I felt something pressed against the ring of my exposed bottom. It was slippery and entered me without much difficulty. I felt an involuntary thrill from the smooth ridges and bumps as a big dildo was pushed into me. The dildo felt very hard though in fact it was only soft 'jelly'. Then much to my surprise, I could feel Lindsay doing something else. There was a scraping sound and the clank of metal. I could feel something levering on and moving the dildo. I soon realised that she had inserted a metal shaft between the dildo and the spreader bar. The dildo was now held in position by the vertical metal rod, which was apparently now connected to the middle of the spreader bar somehow. If I worked my legs, I could move up and down on it, just a little. Technically, I was free to walk around, but with my legs spread as they were, and the dildo positioned as it was, there was no way for me to lift a foot to walk in what were still sufficiently treacherous heels. "I have some things to attend to now my pet. If you can get yourself off before I get back, then good for you, if not, well I guess you just weren't desperate enough," said Lindsay. I heard her walk off, and I was left alone. I felt afraid. With nothing holding me up I was worried that I would tire and fall over. If I fell forward it would hurt very badly. Maybe the breast cones would save me from a broken face, maybe not. It would probably be safest to fall backwards, but this wasn't a much more enticing prospect. If I was lucky, I could avoid hitting my head hard when I fell. I started to cry a little, from fear and discomfort. I wished somebody would come to save me from the insane Lindsay. Her crazy tortures could just go on and on forever, getting worse and worse. I began to dread what might be in store for me. The suction pump kicked in again, restoring the pressure on my nipples and chest, which had eased slightly. If I moved just right on the dildo, it helped to take my mind off things. It wasn't hard to get myself distracted by the invader in my behind. With a little movement, I could feel myself flushing, and my breath quickening. It was a lot harder to push myself further. My legs were tiring quickly: I needed a really good push up to get a solid movement back down onto the shaft so that I got a good rub past my prostate. Soon the only thought on my mind was to wriggle and squirm and push up and down on that dildo, even though it hurt me. Sometimes the suction pump would start up and I began to welcome it. It helped push me a little closer to release. I needed that release intensely now. My penis was throbbing in its tube, desperate to spurt. If only I could touch it somehow. It wasn't possible. I did what I could with the sensations available. My existence descended into a dark place where my single desire was to push myself over the edge of orgasm. Every part of my being was focussed on obtaining that event. Exhaustion, shortage of air, pain in my overheated legs, pain in my chest, my nipples, my behind, they were all subservient to that desire. I could feel it coming, so close now that I could almost taste it. I didn't dare breathe lest is slipped from my grasp. There were spots before my eyes but I hung onto that feeling. Finally, it came. Release. Yet, it wasn't the satisfying total release I had imagined and wished for. Yes, my penis spurted into the tube. There was the brief white consuming flash of orgasm. I had cum, yes that was indisputable. Why then did I feel so underwhelmed? The grim reality of the various pains inflicted upon me began to reimpose themselves. I could feel the pain on my chest from the relentless sucking, the burning in my lungs from a shortage of air. I could feel the muscles and tendons in my legs that seemed to be like molten white wires searing my flesh. I began to feel the subjective reality of the pain in my behind, pierced by a seemly agonisingly hard and relentless dildo that felt like it was ripping me open and stabbing into soft interior parts of me simultaneously. I really wanted to get that painful thing out of me, but I couldn't. I could feel something wet and cold running down the inside of my legs: blood, cum, slime, I had no idea. A feeling that I had violated and humiliated myself for nothing made my spirits sink. Worst of all though, was the feeling that I wanted more, much more than my body could endure. It was as if my desire for orgasms was unsated and far exceeded my puny physical capacity to create them. I soon began to get myself worked up again. The pain began to fade behind the desire. I was thankful for the lust: it might not be pleasure, but it was better than pain. Maybe there was time for another cum? "I think you need to improve your flexibility pet," said Lindsay, surprising me with her stealthy return. How long had she been watching me? Without warning I felt a hard metal, rubber-covered ring forced back behind my teeth. A strap on each side fastened behind my head. My mouth was forced open into an 'O'. It wasn't enough of a stretch to really make my jaw ache immediately, but I expected it would begin to do so later. For the moment it was almost a relief not to have to struggle against the pull of the hood to open my mouth to breathe. A chain was clipped onto the back of my belt, and presumably to the hook that had suspended me before. The chain tightened, and I felt myself lift somewhat off the dildo. I was now supported at the back. Lindsay wordlessly removed the shaft, and then the dildo, leaving me with a needy, empty sensation. I felt Lindsay's fingers pushed up inside me, rubbing some kind of ointment into my anus. I felt the pain and sensation fade, and numbness spread into my hips. She unclipped my hands, one at a time, from my waist, and stretched each one out to the anklet of the spreader bar and clipped it to that. I was bent over with my legs spread, with my bottom in the air. It was a very painful stretch. I didn't think I could hold it for long. Drool began running out of my mouth and formed a small puddle on the floor. "You are probably quite dehydrated already, and you will continue to loose fluid by dribbling uncontrollably," said Lindsay as if stating a simple and obvious fact. "Would you like something to drink?" She said, deadpan. I knew there would be a catch. I tried to nod a yes anyway. "I thought you might," she said, accepting my answer. "But I don't think you want to suck on a narrow little tube with that cocksucking mouth of yours. I think you'll need something a bit bigger to satisfy your appetite for cock," she said with a laugh. She produced a black rubberised cylinder about the size of a bucket, with a soft, fat semi-rigid penis sticking up from it, and positioned it within reach. It would have to stretch down painfully to get it properly into my mouth. I knew what she intended. "You need the practice at cock-sucking anway. You need to get your mouth as far down the shaft as possible if you want anything to come out. Oh, before I forget, the fluid in the tank is the same stuff they've been giving you for meals," she said then paused before laughing to herself: "The all purpose wonder food." She finished with a smirk. "They probably didn't mention this, but if you live on nothing but this stuff long enough, it makes your digestive system shrivel up somehow so you can't eat solid food any longer. "I was told that when they give you the big drink of water afterwards, that's to stretch your stomach out, and stop it shrinking. The Doctor told me that. She said that because Number Two skips the water and just drinks the good stuff, every part of her body related to digestion has become shrunken and functionless. The only way she can drink is little and often and she can't digest anything at all any longer. "Don't worry though, it took her a long time to get like that. If you're worried, I suppose you could always not drink any of it, in which case you'll be very thirsty by the end of the day. It's up to you my pet. I'll see you at bedtime either way," she said. Without further comment, she walked off to do whatever deranged things filled her day. I don't know how long I remained in that position. It felt like a lifetime, but it might not even have been an hour. I had no way to track time and my sense of its passing had become unreliable under the best of circumstances. There's something about the combination of pain, fatigue, dehydration and sexual frustration that can turn seconds into hours and hours into days. Of course, I drank the liquid, though it was wrenchingly painful to have to bend further to reach the rubber phallus. The agonisingly frustrating process of teasing it into my mouth enough to suck it in properly would have been enough to break my resolve if I didn't know that I was alone and nobody would come to help me. I failed and gave up on the first, second, third and fourth attempts. After each failure I rested for a time. Eventually the need for fluids exceeded everything else and I tried again. I succeeded on the fifth try, and was rewarded with the opportunity to suck long and hard on the thick rubber cock. For a while nothing came out of it, and I was starting to think the whole thing was a cruel joke and it would never dispense fluid. Pushing into the pain I forced my head further down to get more of it into my mouth, until I was almost choking. The sweet rush of the orange liquid that finally occurred filled me with relief. I was desperately thirsty, as Lindsay had predicted, and sucked hungrily at this fat teat until I felt fit to burst. I'd never had so much of the liquid in one sitting and it had an overwhelming effect on me. The warming sensation of the juice spread through my body like a fire. It was a new sensation but I knew I loved it instantly. A warm numbness began to suffuse my whole being, reaching out tendrils that began to tickle at my penis and my nipples and making them swell and itch with desire. It was an itch that slowly grew into a burning lust as the day progressed. The relentless regular pull of the suction pump on my chest only served to enflame the sensation. I drank from the container on several more occasions: whenever I felt that I could swallow more and I had the strength to reach for it. Each time I drank the burning was numbed away, only to return stronger than before a short while afterwards. By the time Lindsay returned, I no longer cared at all about the cramping mass of pain that my back and legs had turned into. I didn't regret drinking at all; even though the desire and frustration was maddening, there was something good about it - it was a desire I was comfortable to have - and it took the pain away. With desire like this, there didn't seem to be any need to feel responsible for it. If I was helpless before it, why not give in? Comfortable or not, I was ready to do anything to get some stimulation, to get anything to scratch that unscratchable itch. If I'd had the chance I would happily take anything I could get, in any place I could get it. Lindsay had other ideas. She sat down on the floor so her head wasn't so far above mine. She leant over and kissed me lovingly on the forehead, on the eyes, and finally on the lips. It was a slow lingering kiss. I relished the moisture as her tongue probed my dry mouth through the unyielding ring gag that locked open my now cramped jaw. It felt lovely to feel her smooth wet tongue tangling with the dry lump in my mouth and returning it to life. She unhooked my wrists, and then unhooked the chain supporting me. I was almost free. The spreader bar between my legs was held by nothing more than two simple spring clips. My bemittened hands in their padded prison were useless to operate even that simple closure. I suddenly felt more helpless and dependent than I had done when I was completely bound and secured. To my surprise, Lindsay removed the spreader bar too. Then I realised how obvious it must be that I was too weak and stiff to do anything to resist her. It took me a while to regain sufficient movement for Lindsay to lead me over to a rubber cocoon that lay open on the floor just a few feet behind me. As for trying to resist her control, the idea was ludicrous and would undoubtedly earn me some horrific punishment into the bargain. I followed meekly, and lay down where directed, slipping my feet into the end of the bag. She laced it up around me so that only my head was exposed. She unplugged and then reattached the hoses for the breast domes: small holes were present in the bag to allow access for them. As Lindsay began to inflate the bag, I didn't feel any surprise. I had seen things like this before, though this one was a slightly different design. Instead I wondered that there was no provision for me to urinate, and that I hadn't received my regular enema. The disruption of my maid routine was disorientating and disturbing. The bag had double walls, and Lindsay quickly inflated it. I was tightly compressed and constrained by the surrounding rubber walls that pressed hard against me. It was as if someone had stuck two airbeds together at the edges, sandwiched me between them and then inflated them both so that I was crushed. It was in some way pleasant that I was no longer lying directly on the floor, but instead was cushioned by a kind of airbed. Of course, I was helpless, with my arms trapped inside and as immobile as my legs. Only my head remained exposed, resting on a kind of air- pillow. I was soon to learn the reason for this. Lindsay rolled up a metal medical stand with various apparatus attached, including several hoses and tubes. Suspended from the stand was a clear cylinder, filled with a brownish yellow liquid, in which was a mass of wadded rubber. As I was to learn later, a tube entered through the sealed top of the cylinder and reached down almost to the bottom of it. A breathing hose connected to the very top of this contrivance, which currently dangled down, unattached. A rubber bung with a hole through it was pushed into my mouth and seated solidly in the opening of the o-ring gag. At first I thought this was intended to further restrict my breathing, though it transpired this was not the case. Lindsay pulled a heavy rubber mask over my face. It was like a gas- mask, but without any kind of provision for seeing out of it: quite the reverse in fact, as soft pads pressed against my eyes and blotted out the tiniest chink of light. It created a profound darkness. Once Lindsay connected the hose, I realise that by breathing in I sucked air out of the top of the bottle, which in turn pulled in more through the tube, which bubbled up through the liquid and rubber mixture. Even without seeing the apparatus I might have guessed how it worked, from the pungent aroma of the air I was forced to breathe, and the struggle I had to go through in getting it. The bubble process and the size of the tube meant that I could never get quite as much air as I would have liked. My breathing difficulties were further compounded by what I was later to learn was a kind of rebreather balloon. This was part of the mask I was wearing, and swelled up as I exhaled. A valve at the end of the balloon then opened to allow the exit of any air that I breathed out in excess of the capacity of the balloon. This particular balloon was large enough that I had to exhale quite a deep breath to push any excess air out of it. As I quickly realised, if I didn't push excess air out of the balloon, I would breathe back in the old, stale air immediately on inhaling, before taking in any new air from the bubble bottle. Breathing in the mostly stale air created in me the most horrible breathless feeling, as if I were always about to suffocate. Only by breathing in deeply and exhaling deeply could I get fresh air at all, and yet my corset and the pressure on my chest of the inflatable pressure cocoon all conspired to make this as difficult and exhausting as possible. I quickly realised that the bung that had been inserted into my gag was designed to prevent me filling my breathing mask with drool, though it also restricted my rate of inhalation to a minor degree. I felt the warmth of Lindsay's breath through my hoods as she pressed her mouth close to my ear and said with deliberation, loud and clear: "Goodnight my pet, sleep well. Tomorrow the fun begins in earnest." It filled me with horror to be left this way. I tried to make some kind of protest but as I was well restrained, gagged and hooded, it amounted to little more than a squeaking of my rubber confinement and a humming in my throat. I don't think Lindsay even noticed it, or if she did she didn't deem it worthy of punishment. There were no devices to wake me, and no threat of punishments if I overslept, and yet I had as sleepless a night as my worst in the maid's quarters. Every breath was a thick musky combination of the stench of Lindsay and rubber ending in a curse that I couldn't get enough of the awful stuff into my lungs. Every exhalation was a cruel frustration, marked by the thwap sound as the balloon inflated to capacity and the one way exhalation valve opened. The night was an endless succession of struggles for every breath. Sometimes I was about to sleep, but the overwhelming suffocating sensation snapped me back to wakefulness before true sleep could claim me. The only thing that kept me from going insane with panic, desperation and exhaustion was the feeling of terrible pent up, frustrated desire that surged in my crotch and around my nipples. The breathless feeling served to amplify this in a way I didn't fully understand. Sometimes I felt as if I was on the edge of orgasm. Sometimes I deliberately took short breaths just to increase the feeling, to draw closer to a cum I could never reach - the cruel need for oxygen always pulling me back from the edge of release. I had never known my nipples capable of such sensation before, but combined with the suction machine and the excessive doses of the liquid food, I was experiencing something new. I felt as if each nipple were as sensitive and hungry for sex as my penis itself. My nipples now felt so aroused that I believed that I might cum if I were able to rub them sufficiently. I squirmed against my tight encasement, but the powerful suction held them and their surrounding flesh tight against the domes and movement was useless at achieving any stimulation. At times I thought I could hear the sound of Lindsay asleep nearby. Sometimes I believed I could hear her breathing, or a sigh. At other times I thought I sensed the sound of her shifting in her sleep or moving rubber bed sheets about. I sensed immediately when this pattern changed. It wasn't much later that I heard her footsteps as she moved about the room. She didn't choose to attend to me immediately however. I waited with increasing suspense as she moved about the room making various noises. The worst sound of all was when I heard her open the door and leave. I don't know how long she was gone, but it seemed a time more urgently frustrating than the entire night had been. I was now very hungry, very horny and with a full bladder as well. I desperately wanted some attention, but I had to wait, like an object, or a toy, for her to choose to look after me. I felt more like a doll than a pet, though she used the word with studied frequency. Finally, at some point during the day she came to look after me. "Good morning pet," she said as she removed the hateful mask. The inflated walls of the rubber cocoon still held me in their vice- like grip, and she showed no sign of releasing me. I was enormously relieved when she pulled the mask from my face, taking a huge gasp of fresh air as she pulled out the perforated bung that helped me control drool within the mask. I came as a shock when the bung was quickly replaced with something much more substantial: a large squat rubber penis was pushed into my mouth. Unlike the bung, this filled my mouth and reached almost to the back of my throat and raised a fear of choking. "A slut like you should always have a cock in her mouth, don't you think?" Said Lindsay. Then to my utmost horror she began to replace the awful breath control mask. It seemed there was a hole in the cock gag, though smaller than the one in the bung, it did allow me to continue breathing through my mouth, albeit with increased care and difficulty. "Don't worry pet. I won't let you choke. I know it will disappoint you, but the cock gag is for supervised use only and you can't suck on it all the time," she said, as if I was about to beg she never remove it. There was a loud hissing and a sudden sensation of release. It seemed that she had started to deflate the cocoon. I felt a sensation on my chest and two pops as she pulled free the suction pipes. The domes didn't release their suck though. After a time she was able to help me out of it and assist me in standing. I felt very strange and was so tired that I felt a weird floaty sensation that turned into dizziness when I first stood up. Lindsay half led, half carried me somewhere into a place that sounded like a bathroom. She dragged my arms above my head and clipped the d-rings on my cuffs to something. I hung there, semi-suspended, too dizzy to stand. I had to concentrate on my breathing: it was difficult. My heart pounded so hard that it hurt my chest. After a while I started to feel a little better and began to feel some strength returning in my legs. Meanwhile Lindsay had inserted a familiar enema valve and had begun filling me up inside with a warm liquid that made me sweat. This pressed on my bladder, which was already painfully full. "From now on, you aren't permitted to even think the word 'I': there is no I in your vocabulary or in your thoughts, there is only Lindsay's pet, or Mistresses pet. Do you understand?" She said. I didn't, but I nodded anyway. Just the simple act of standing exhausted my oxygen budget, I didn't have the energy to try and figure out her words. "You must never think of you, or yourself, you must only think of the pet and who owns it. Learn this. Practice this. At all times, think as I tell you. Later, there will be a test. If I'm not happy with your progress there will be severe punishments," she said. The enema had filled me to the limit, and my bladder was fit to burst. I couldn't hold on any longer. I let go and felt a stream of warm urine running out of the bottom of my belt and washing down the inside of my legs. "Bad pet," snapped Lindsay. "You are only allowed to pee when I tell you, and I did not tell you. If that happens again you will drink it," she snarled. Then she clamped her hand over the end of my rebreather balloon as I tried to inhale. I was forced to inhale the stale air from the balloon. I felt several stinging blows to my behind, and still her hand sealed my air supply. I panted helplessly into the balloon. More blows assailed my behind. It felt as if I was about to cum and yet my penis wasn't even hard. "Bad pet," said Lindsay once again, finally allowing me to access fresh air. I felt the ecstatic sensation slipping away from me. Lindsay completed the enema and I was allowed to release it into some kind of receptacle. I felt splashes on my bottom followed by Lindsay's gentle touch as she wiped them away. "Time for your bath now," she announced. I had no idea what she intended, but my wrists were unclipped and she led me very carefully down some steps into what felt like a pool of warm water. She gently pushed me into a sitting, and then prone position. I felt my face bob an inch or two under the water. I floated, partially submerged. I was afraid of my balloon taking in water instead of air, but it didn't happen. Perhaps Lindsay held it out of the water somehow. I felt myself becoming overheated in the warm water. It wasn't hot, but it was warm enough to make me start to feel very strange. Normally a hot bath made me feel weak and sleepy, but I already felt like that. When Lindsay finally helped me out of the water I was too weak to stand and my head was thumping. I lay prone on what felt like tiles as the water drained out of my rubber over-jacket and mittens. I may have been trying to say things, I'm not sure. Lindsay held me and petted me throughout this, continually talking to me in a reassuring voice, though I don't remember anything that she said. For all I know it was more of her crazy fairy stories, but I felt better knowing that somebody was there looking after me and that I probably wouldn't be allowed to suffocate or choke. When I had enough strength to stand, she led me back into the bedroom, or at least I assume it was the bedroom. At long last, she removed the breathing mask, though the cock gag remained in place. I felt such an incredible relief that I think I fell asleep soon afterwards. I can't have slept long, but when I awoke the cock gag had been removed and someone had clipped a long solid spreader bar between my ankles and another between my wrists. The bars had d-rings welded onto their 'top' near each end - at least it was their top as I now saw it from my face down position. Cables had already been attached to the d-rings, and it was probably the act of tightening these and lifting me from the floor that woke me up. The four-point suspension stretched me out as much as it lifted me, and I felt an enormous tugging strain on my body as my entire weight was taken by my wrists, ankles and joints. My body's natural tendency was to sag, though the corset helped a little it still felt like every muscle in my abdomen was being ripped apart. I knew I couldn't stand this position for long without some injury. Apparently, so did Lindsay, as she quickly passed a rubber harness underneath me, which she attached to another set of cables. She quickly tightened the support from the additional harness so that much of the weight of my body now rested on it. There was still a lot of strain elsewhere, but I could endure it. My arms and legs reached upwards while my body hung down. My unsupported head flopped forwards so I had a good view of my underside and the ridiculous breast domes sticking downwards. I had to be careful how I moved or the whole apparatus swung in painful ways that increased the strain in one place or another. My ring gag remained in place, and once again the drool was forming a puddle beneath me. Lindsay placed the drink container within reach. It had been altered: the cock teat was now longer and harder looking. It would be easier to grab, but it looked like a lot to swallow. "Now you might think that you'll choke if you get this lovely cock far enough into your mouth to get any liquid out of it. You won't if you keep swallowing. Or you can do without any drink, it's up to you," said Lindsay. I rolled my eyes up at her in horror. "Aw, that's so sweet," she said, rubbing my hooded head. "See you tonight pet," she added. I presume that I spent the entire day that way, though I had no way to measure time. Eventually, Lindsay arrived and let me down. She refitted the bung and the breathing-hood and took me into the bathroom where she gave me a chance to urinate. "You are allowed to pee now pet. You better do it now because this is your only chance until this time tomorrow," she advised. I felt very nervous for some reason, but eventually managed to empty my bladder. Being inside the darkness of the hood helped with that. Afterwards she took me back to the bedroom and put me back in the cocoon to 'sleep'. I got the impression that there had been a change to the hood during the day: the balloon was now very slightly smaller and I could get a little bit more fresh air in with a little less effort. Either that or I had got used to it. The night wasn't much better than the one before. I slept only for seconds at a stretch and by the end of the night I was so exhausted that I couldn't think clearly and my head was filled with buzzing angry voices, strange lights, colours and sounds. I knew that if Lindsay kept this up that soon I would 'break'. What lay beyond that snapping of my mind I could only guess at. I began to become curious about it, continually wondering if it had happened yet. As before, I eventually heard Lindsay awake and get up. She left the room without attending to me and I continued trying to sleep. Eventually, I felt someone unfastening my mask. What a relief it was to suddenly breathe 'fresh' air. It took a while for my eyes to clear because they were glued shut with mucus and didn't seem to want to focus at all. It was the sound that made me want to look. It was a sound I hadn't expected at all. "Ah ha, yes, I have found her." I had never been so happy to hear the harsh German words of Housekeeper Four. "Stupid maid, do not try to struggle: remain calm. You will soon be released," said the Housekeeper. I lay back and sighed a deep sigh of relief. I didn't want to let myself feel too confident that I was about to be rescued from Lindsay, but I didn't dare believe otherwise either. As a compromise I ceased all thought and concentrated on Housekeeper Four's words. "The little trouble with Number Two and the Doctor is ended. You are safe now," said the Housekeeper. It took a while for her to get me out of the cocoon and onto a stretcher. I think after that I must have fallen asleep on the stretcher. I was very tired after all. The next thing I remember was waking up. I found myself awake on a circular bed, covered in polythene, in the middle of a room where everything seemed to be intensely white and rather bright. I rubbed my eyes and found my naked fingers, free of any gloves or mittens: only my long false fingernails remained, pristine and beautiful. I looked down at myself. I was completely naked. It was a body I didn't really recognise. The puffy mounds on my chest with their swollen nipples looked like the beginning of teenage breasts. I didn't have a man's nipples any longer. My penis was large, hard and erect, throbbing, like my nipples, with desire. The shape of my body was wrong somehow, with a narrowing waist, different to that of a man, or even a woman. Most women's waists weren't as slender as mine was, and their hips were wider. My hips though broader than I recalled were still much too narrow and girlish to look womanly. My skin was porcelain white and perfectly smooth and hairless. It was strangely unmarked by bruises or 'bite' marks from the restraints or rubber. It looked flawless and oddly beautiful. It seemed to be someone else's skin, on someone else's body - though I knew it had to be mine - or was I dreaming? Was I really still back in the cocoon in Lindsay's room, finally mad beyond redemption and hallucinating wildly? I looked across the room. Number One was standing there, silhoutted against the glaring brightness of the sun reflected in a snowy white expanse that was visible through the massive balcony windows behind her. She was looking out at the snowbound countryside from a high place. It looked so cold out there, but it was so warm in here. Even though I was naked I was sweating. Number One turned to look at me. It was a testament to her ability to transfix me that I remained completely motionless and didn't wank myself stupid as for the last two days I had been aching to touch myself. "Maid Twenty-two," she began, then paused, smiling. "I thank you for your bold attempts to warn me of the foolish conspiracy that brought discord to an harmonious house," she said. Her eyes were hidden behind those little round sunglasses and the silver makeup was once again perfect. I hadn't seen them when she was unconscious. I found myself wondering idly what colour they were. I also found myself wondering if I would get to press my erect member into the soft opening between her perfect legs. She wore nothing but a skin-tight white rubber mini-dress. Clearly, there was no underwear beneath it, and her ample charms pressed out at the front, creating a deep cleavage. I found myself imagining rolling the rubber skirt up just a few inches for perfect access. When she spoke, it seemed as if she read my mind. "I'm afraid I can't permit you to touch me Twenty-two. At least, not dressed as I am: for safety's sake there must remain a layer of rubber between us," she paused again and smiled, as it seemed she often did. "Oh, you may speak if you wish. Is there something you wish to ask?" "I don't understand Mistress," I stammered. "Simply put, my bodily fluids, and possibly even my sweat are potentially lethal. Although the chance of transmission is actually quite small, it is best to be cautious. Conveniently, rubber protects," she said as if this were a minor matter. "You're infected?" I asked, confused. Her current outfit hardly looked like it protected much. Surely everything in the room she had touched with her bear hands was contaminated? "Yes: a change in the cells of the body; only one in millions have the potential to survive it; from the common point of view it has all the aspects of a disease. In most, infection results in rapid violent and agonising death. In the tiny few that can survive it, it creates a change that many would consider beneficial. In the end it is just a matter of perspective - as you can see I appear to be in good health." I wanted to put on some clothes, at least my maid's uniform. I wanted to stick my prick into Number One. I wanted it very badly. I wondered if that was her plan. Did she want to see if I would? Was she testing me? What was the correct response? Would I die if I touched her? "Mistress, Lindsay spoke of a Goddess. This sounds somehow ... connected," I said, my words felt foolish. How could there be a connection? "I can only speculate that Lindsay referred to the first to stabilise the true change. Before her was only chaos and an outcome worse than death. Those referred to as her 'daughters' are the few who can carry the modified infection and live," she said. Coming from her it sounded perfectly reasonable. I don't know why. "What about Nurse Five? Will she recover Mistress?" "Yes, she is well, as is the maid Seventeen. The Doctor was administering a drug to keep them unconscious. They are recovering already. There seems to be no permanent damage from the original drug that induced the fake seizure. Number Two and the Doctor were foolish, but not murderous." "And the conspirators Mistress?" "The Doctor has confessed that she was in love with Two and was influenced by her. I believe it. They will be placed in positions of less responsibility from now on. As for Number Two, I believe she was led into prideful and ambitious behaviour by the tempting whispers of the numberless Lindsay. "As a junior maid the ex-Two's greed for power should be kept firmly in check and she will receive the discipline and guidance she should have received long ago. It's a pity she can't see that it is in her nature to always be a follower, and never a leader. Even in this she followed Lindsay, but she does not see it yet," said Number One. "And Lindsay Mistress?" I said. "The anger has festered too long in her to be easily released. It's a pity, but she was never a moral person, and such people often bring their own destruction; easily swayed by her emotions and desires she does not choose paths that lead to happiness for anyone. "She knows too much to be safely sent into exile, and would likely fall victim to the enemy with dark consequences for all of us. As she does not wish to stay and work harmoniously with us there are no easy options available for her. "Perhaps she will relent and let us help her, but I doubt it, her passions are too strong. Incidentally, I believe she was infatuated with you, though this provided only a minor complication to her plot." "Mistress, didn't they try to do away with you?" "I appreciate your efforts to warn me of the conspiracy, though as Number Four observed, you should have followed the proper procedure and reported directly to her. We knew of the plot from its beginning. We allowed things take their course so that we could get the measure of the conspirator's true characters. I was most curious to see how Two and the Doctor would try and organise things. We wanted to see how they would behave if they had free reign, you might say. "We hadn't anticipated Lindsay smuggling you away. I'm sorry that anyone else had to suffer because of this. In any case, a maid needs to learn to endure the unexpected and unpleasant without complaint, so we should not make too much of it. "I think the Housekeeper and Nurse Five will try and make it up to you. I believe they're both a little fond of you, each in their own way," she said. "Oh," I said weakly. "I notice you haven't asked about Lindsay's grievances," she said. "I wouldn't presume Mistress," I said. "I will always be full of sorrow over what happened in days past, but I was not responsible, and I will not foolishly torture myself with guilt for events beyond my control. That Lindsay chose to blame me for it was her method of coping with shock and grief, and ultimately it did not work. At the time I offered to help her come to terms with the past properly, and she refused my help. In that I failed her. I should have found a way." "And what about me?" I asked finally. "All your outstanding punishments are rescinded. I've ordered the isolation machine dismantled, so you'll never have a chance to try that out. A pity really, I think you might have liked a short dose of it, but it was ultimately a clumsy and dangerous device. We would never really have allowed you to spend more than a day or two in it." "Whatever you say is best Mistress," I said, uncharitably thinking they should have stuck Lindsay in it and left her there forever. "Do you still want to continue your maid training?" Asked Number One. "Yes Mistress," I said. And that was that. The end of the Doll's House Hotel. If you'd like to read more about the adventures of Number Twenty-two, or the history or future of the other Hotel residents, or there is something about the story that you just have to get off your chest, email your requests and comments to amya at unlimitedmail.org