Crystal's StorySite

MARCI & PAM : The New Suits   by: Karen Summerfield
With contribution by Chastity LaLiberte
Copyright June 1999 - October 2000


Marci & Pam : The New Suits           by: Karen Summerfield


--- MARCI ---


Its origins are totally unknown to me. I do not have the slightest clue how the box arrived in the middle of my bed one day. It was just there - when I had gone to my bedroom to change and freshen up after finishing at the studio. Because of my work as a fetish model, I had a very elaborate security system installed in my house with everything available. 'Fans' following me were just part of the job.

Before even looking at the box, I checked the system. Nothing had triggered it; nothing had been recorded on the videotapes from the cameras outside. The last tape I checked was the one from my bedroom. At nine fifty-nine, and fifty-nine seconds that morning, my bed was just as I had made it up. Precisely at ten, on the dot - the box was there!

I examined the box. It was fairly heavy, thirty pounds or so, wrapped in brown Kraft paper. Printed on one side was a note addressed to me.


These are very special gifts to a very beautiful and special girl.

You will find that putting them on will have a very special effect

on you for the rest of your life.

Wear these and try to be happy about it.'

I puzzled over the enigmatic note before removing the paper and opening the box. Who would send me gifts? More puzzling was how did it get there?

The box contained what looked like a shiny, black latex catsuit with flesh colored hands and feet. The latex that would cover my breasts, pussy and ass was crystal clear. Long red nails sprouted from each of the fingertips and there were separated toes with normal length nails of the same color. With the suit spread on my bed, I removed the helmet and examined it before laying it, too, on my bed.

In my work I've worn catsuits and even lifelike human faced helmets before. This helmet was unlike any other. The latex was made to extend into the wearer's mouth. The clear rubber there had been molded to encase the teeth and envelop the tongue. It was a very pretty, doll-like face with big green eyes and full makeup including two inch long, false lashes surrounding these. Kink that I am, I was getting wet feeling the smooth latex and anxious to try everything on.

Three more items were still in the box, a shiny metal collar, a chastity belt, of sorts, and a set of keys. Before going any further, I double-checked that the keys worked in each of the locks.

Fast as I could, I stripped off everything I'd on and took a long shower. I hate feeling sweaty before I powder and climb into latex. Liberally covered with talc and my pussy dripping, the stool before my vanity seemed the best place to sit and start putting everything on.

It took a bit of doing to work my toes into the individual tubes provided, but I managed, and carefully worked the suit up my legs. Like the rubber that was intended to cover the inside of my mouth, the rubber through the crotch was designed to closely envelop my clitoris, labia's and rectum. Several inches of the latex were to extend up into both orifices and even into my urethra. Without any lubrication, not that my dripping slit needed it, these slipped inside almost on their own once I had them in position and got them started.

With everything smoothed to my waist, donning the rest of the suit was easy. Unlike most other catsuits I've worn that had metal zippers, my present was fitted with one that was like on a plastic, zip-lock bag. I easily closed it up my back, leaving the top several inches open until I worked the neck and shoulder flaps of the helmet underneath.

In my job, I frequently wear a lot of latex, none fit as well nor felt like what I was putting on. This suit did not have the aroma of latex, there was no smell to it at all.

It would be easier to fit the chastity belt while I still had full vision rather than just the small, cat-like slits of the mask to see through. There were no hinges in the belt and I was surprised how easily I could spring the thick waist band open to work it about my waist then settle it down on my hips.

Unlike other chastity belts, this one did not cover my sex nor prevent access to it. Where a front shield normally would be, there were curved rods that passed about my rubbered pussy and joined behind it to form a back strap to run up between my cheeks. Over my anus the back strap widened to further spread my cheeks apart so a large oval hole could be provided.

The ends of the waistband overlapped three pins at the top of the back strap. A squat cylinder, that was the lock, then could be pressed over the three pins. I heard and felt the mechanism snap solidly closed.

The helmet was not nearly as easy to fit as the suit had been. Much of the difficulty was in fitting my ears into the cavities provided then working the nostrils up my nose and getting everything inside my mouth into place.

The back zipper on the helmet was just like the one the suit. I closed this then worked the neck of the suit up under my chin and ears so I could fully close it too. Now for the collar.

It was two inches wide with a heavy, three inch ring on a swivel in front and a silver bell hung from that. Also without any hinges, I easily spread it and snapped the lock over the pins in back. Careful to avoid seeing my reflection as I had dressed, there was one more thing that I wanted to do before taking a look. A quick shower would easily accomplish this.

I love showering, even swimming and bathing while wearing my rubbers and the talcum powder all over the suit was as good of an excuse as any, not that I really needed an excuse. Water on full blast, I stepped under and began washing the residue off.

The changes about my head were the first that I sensed, as it was getting the full flow. The slight tightening there caused me not to really pay any attention. Clean and rinsed off was when I sensed my breasts begin to change. By then it was too late. I had thoroughly wet every part of my body including my love slit and rear.

I'd been right in thinking that the material wasn't latex, but this had been no reason for me not to put everything on. Latex does not change when it becomes wet, the helmet, suit, even the metal collar and chastity belt were all changing.

Much of what I felt was a slow tightening most everywhere. I could feel it in my pussy, up my rear, into my urethra and in my mouth - these areas were being invaded!

Fighting for calm, I picked up the keys and felt to place the key in the lock at the back of my neck, but I could not get it in the keyhole. All I felt with the tip of my finger was a smoothly polished surface! Now I started to panic!

A hand mirror allowed me to see behind in the reflection. The keyhole that had so easily accepted the key when I tested the lock was gone! There was no keyhole! Examining the lock above my crack confirmed that the one there had vanished too.

I saw something else. The two zippers, that had closed easily, had also disappeared. Gone were the ridges when I ran my fingertips over the now smooth surfaces. There was no way I could discern where the openings had once been.

Constriction of the metal collar seemed to have stopped once it was very snug, just tight enough to make it uncomfortable when I swallowed and not tight enough to restrict neither the blood nor my breathing. Sensing this, I was able to calm, a little, and try to reason.

These things had to have cost plenty and there were a lot of cheaper and easier ways to kill me than this. I concluded that its purpose was not my death, but something else - though I did not know what.

The material continued to shrink everywhere, but it wasn't at a very fast rate - just a slow tightening. The softer parts of my body, like my belly, did seem to do so faster. There seemed to be no way to remove anything that I'd put on and this damn suit and accessories seemed to have minds of their own or a least some sort of programming.

Already knowing that it was going to prove to be a fruitless exercise, I tried to cut the suit with the pair of scissors in my vanity. I tried sticking a needle into my arm and the sharpest knife in the kitchen. I even tried to burn it in the gas flame of the stove's burner. My imagination told me that the suit was laughing at my futile efforts.

Thirsty, I forgot the effect that water had on this substance. As I swallowed, I felt what was inside my rubber coated mouth easily go down with it. Time would teach me that I would never again taste food or liquids, their purpose had been reduced to sustenance only.



--- PETER ---


The pain was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. Not even when I'd been hit by a car when I was ten, breaking both my legs, had I hurt so much. It was two in the morning when I awoke, screaming in agony. Mostly, the pain was in my crotch, centered between the two rods that had passed on either side of my balls and dick.

Half awake, I lay still and moved one of my gloved hands to massage the soreness. What I felt, actually what those long fingernails did not touch, brought me to full consciousness. With my left hand exploring my groin I turned on the bedside lamp with my right. As my eyes started to adjust, what blocked my view startled me more.

Protruding, like twin mountain peaks, from my chest, were two large breasts, perfectly normal for a woman, but I wasn't a woman, I was a guy! I guess 'was', the past tense is correct. I was a guy. What my fingers felt and what I saw when I managed to push myself up would be cause for anyone to call Peter Jonathan Stevens a liar.

Not only did I have breasts that had appeared overnight under the clear rubber, but also I had a vagina!

Holding the bedpost with one hand and my crotch with the other, I struggled to stand. My feet were cramped and I couldn't rest back on my heels, flatfoot. I tried, but it hurt. Standing just on my toes and holding the wall and furniture for balance allowed me to make my way to the bathroom.

The mirror above the bathroom sink confirmed what I already knew, all evidence of my maleness was gone. A girl's mons had replaced everything there.

This suit was not just giving me breasts and a love nest - it was making other changes to my body. My waist was much smaller with my lower chest tapering up in a vee to the breasts that had sprouted. I no longer had my slight beer belly, I had a female torso now.

Yes, the suit had a definite feminine appearance when I had first looked at it. I expected to see the bizarre caricature of a girl staring at me from the mirror. She had looked much the same the first time I saw her. I never expected to see the body that now went with her.

"Shit!" The voice passing my rubber lips frightened me as much as the other changes that were happening. High soprano had replaced my deep alto. Tiptoes took me back in my bathroom. Despite the changes that might be hastened by another shower, I had to wash off the mess I'd been laying in before I could bring myself to do anything else.


--- MARCI ---


Awakened by soreness and some pain at two in the morning, I just lay still - assessing it. I didn't hurt everywhere. The pain I felt was my chest and belly being compressed by the corset-like tightening of the suit there. Modeling corsets, I knew the exact feeling created when my corsets had been laced far too tightly.

Every area that was covered by the clear material was where I was sore: breasts, pussy and ass, as well as inside my rear orifice. The material inside was expanding slowly to stretch my asshole open. Quickly - I withdrew my hands after I tried to rub my breasts as they were just too sore to be touched.

Unable to sleep, my feet became another area of concern as I tried to stand. I could not rest on my heels, but had to keep them arched - just as if I were wearing five-inch heels. By dawn they would be arched to force me to wear nothing less than ballet toes, I'd be unable to stand or walk in anything else, especially not barefoot.

"It's not fair! You have...!" Hearing my voice as I vented my frustration stopped me in mid-sentence. No longer did my voice sound like the sultry model I was, but was one of a five year old! I wanted to cry, but no tears formed in my eyes.

Looking down at my lips between the rods of the belt, I saw that these had extended some - like my aureoles and nipples had. The mirror told me that my hips hadn't swelled, just that my cheeks were more rounded and fuller to create the appearance that they had and gave me a full, protruding butt behind.

When I returned to my bedroom, a very sickening sight greeted me. I'd both wet my bed and shit on it while I had slept! This f- - - ing thing had taken away all control of my bladder and bowels! Stuffing toilet tissue in both holes so that I didn't mess my whole house was a temporary solution until I found something better.

Frustrated totally, I spent the day half watching TV, videos and trying to figure why and who. I wondered what I would do come Monday when I had to be at the studio or lose my job. Horrifying to me, was worrying how much more this damn suit was going to change my appearance.



--- PETER ---


With a cotton swab plugging my pee hole and the stopper from the tub closing the open hole up my rear. I walked to my workshop. Halfway down the cellar stairs I froze.

"I'm walking? I'm not limping!" In the past fourteen years I walked with a very ungainly limp. Not since that car had hit my bike had I walked straight legged. I was now?

As I looked through my tools and attempted different ways to damage the shiny surface of my body I found an old cigar box with an assortment of rubber stoppers. There was enough variety to provide more satisfactory means of plugging my new holes.

Frustrated that nothing seemed capable of even scratching the surface, not even my mother's diamond engagement ring, I sat to stare at the idiot tube. Saturday morning TV was as bad as it always had been - maybe even worse.

Even as I sat upright on the couch, I could see and feel the suit changing me. As I watched my nipples and aureoles protrude before my eyes I sensed that the terrible pain, which had awakened me, had largely subsided. The pain in my crotch, which had so much of my attention earlier, was replaced by the constant pain as the suit continued to squeeze my waist and crush my ribs.

By Sunday afternoon, I was near panic. I now had a forty- eight - nineteen - forty figure and the suit was not done. Just since noon, my lips between the rods had extended another quarter inch and my nipples had erected the same amount. They were nearly the size of my thumbs now.

I thought about her again. Seeing the suit and helmet when I'd opened the box had caused me to think about her then too. I picked up the phone book and looked up Marci.



--- MARCI ---


"Hello." Who the hell might that be? My private phone seldom rang. It was my old number and my other line received all the calls for work and from my friends - I'd been meaning to have it disconnected.

"Marci Matthews, please?" I was really curious now. I hadn't used nor given anyone my real, last name in years.

"Who is this?" The answer was a long period of silence causing me to repeat my question to the young girl on the other end.


"Peter? What kind of joke is this?" Pete Stevens had been my boyfriend in senior high. I'd broken up with him after he introduced me to Greg, the photographer who had helped launch my modeling career and break into my specialized line of work.

"Stop trying to pull my chain. Who the hell are you, girl?"

"Marci, please help me? There is no one else who could begin to understand."



--- PETER ---


I'd not thought of Marci in years, seeing that suit had brought her name and image out of memory storage. In five years I'd almost completely forgotten Marci Matthews.

After she had broken up with me, fond memories were always triggered when I saw her picture on the cover of some magazine at the adult bookstore. I'd bought the magazines then, but it always hurt and I'd ended up crying and depressed after looking at her kinky pictures inside.

Marci is a top fetish model and always looked more beautiful in the magazines wearing some kinky outfit than she had in person. I'd been hurt terribly when she broke off with me and only climbed out of my depression after I stopped going to the bookstore and seeing her pictures there. We'd broken up as friends, there had been no real reason other than the huge amount of time she spent getting into the business.

My depression had been a huge dose of feeling sorry for myself and nothing more. Marci had always been sweet and kind, but I saw it as the latex doll wanted nothing more to do with a gimped up cripple - me.

Seeing this suit, I was thinking only of Marci wearing it. I wanted to be with her and thought that, if I put it on, someone would wave a magic wand and suddenly I would be. Pouf! Peter and Marci together again.

The suit was magic all right. There was no other way to explain it. A great big, grand, David Copperfield illusion, only there was no illusion. What had happened right after I took a shower to rinse off the talc was all too real.



Three hours later and a cup size larger, I'd found my old address book and was dialing the number. Before even looking for the small book, I had made three phone calls to 'Matthews, M.' listed in the telephone directory. None of the entries listed her old address and universally they had never heard of Marci Matthews.

I was desperate - I understood nothing about what was happening to me since feeling compelled to put on the contents of the box.

Never did I have the slightest inklings of being TV and dressing in female attire, yet the suit on my bed, with the long purple fingernails and bizarrely made-up face was clearly a caricature of a sexy female. What had driven me to even think of putting it on? Marci.

Marci was there! Her old phone number still worked! Relieved, though it definitely wasn't her voice, as I had remembered it, but neither was mine the voice of Peter Stevens as I remembered it just last Friday.

It took me nearly an hour to finally convince Marci to come over. I desperately had wanted her to come then, but had to wait five hours. Marci said nine and made it final. Actually she'd said 'after nine', but I left it at nine.

During the long wait, my new bosom grew at least another cup size.

Saturday I had tried knives, power tools, solvents - even a plasma cutting torch, everything I could think of in my workshop. Nothing seemed capable of extricating me from the damned suit. Cutting tools, bits and blades had either rapidly dulled or broken. Solvents from mineral spirits to acetone and xylene had absolutely no effect, not even gasoline from the can for the lawn mower. My oxyacetylene and plasma torches had just bounced off and, strangely, did not even heat the flesh underneath, even though the temperature was well in excess of six thousand degrees.



--- MARCI ---


I'd had little to wear that would fit my new body. By the time that Peter had called, I had already laced on my bright, red leather ballet boots - the only pair I had at home. No skirt I owned would now fit over my enlarged rear and certainly no top could begin to conceal the mammaries thrusting from my chest.

My large rubber and satin mackintosh with the deep hood up, concealed my head. It fluttered noisily as I minced the short distance to the garage. Now dark, few people would see me, despite the red color matching my boots and nails. There are few neighbors near my house, Peter's house would be a gauntlet I'd have to set my mind to accepting. Unable to remove the new suit, sooner was as good as later to accepting the fact that strangers were eventually going to see me.

It was only after Peter had told me of his own predicament that I finally agreed to come over. Poor Peter, he had even less available to cover his bizarre figure than was available to a fetish model. I understood this once I realized the situation he was in.

"Peter, it's Marci, let me in." As Peter hid behind it, out of sight, the door parted enough for me to pass through.

"Come on, turn on the lights, you can't look anything that different than someone I've seen before." The terrified man seriously doubted this statement. I had not let on about my own suit and the changes that it had made to me and he had no idea that I was referring to having seen my own image reflected in the mirror rather than someone else.

"Promise not to laugh at me, Marci." Peter spoke with the same, little, five year old, girl's voice which I did. Each of us sounded different to just ourselves with no way of knowing that our voices were identical.

"Promise - I won't laugh. Turn on the lights."

"Oh, my God!" I had turned to face my former boyfriend. Hood pushed back and standing with my hands on my hips, exposing all of myself to his view as the light flooded the room. "Marci, you too!"

"Yeah, me too." I turned to examine all of him, noting, in particular, the smaller breasts, cheeks, and protruding lips. Other than those and his then larger torso, one difference had jumped out from the beginning. Where my cat eyes were bright green, Peter's were lilac colored. His nails and makeup were also bright, different colors, but no less bold.

About everything else on Peter was the same as on me. Absent was the large ring dangling from his collar and what was becoming an irritant to me - that stupid bell. Peter's collar ring was only about a third the size of mine.

"Have you tried to get out of that thing, Peter?" Listening to his much more extensive experiments that all yielded the same results as the few things I'd attempted, I was trying to accept that there was no way out of our suits.

"Why, just if I knew why, Marci, perhaps I could accept this?"

"We've been talking over what happened to each of us for over two hours, Pete. I don't have any better explanation now than I did when it all began."

"What are you going to do tomorrow, Marci? The weekend is one thing, but there's work and all in the morning?"

"Go to work, what else? I may no longer be able to taste food, but I still get hungry and must eat to live. Despite what's happened, I don't think starving myself to death is something I'd look forward to, Peter."

"But how can you go to work looking like that?"

"You forget what I do to pay the bills. Instead of worrying about what I'm going to be doing, if I were you, I'd start worrying about what you are going to do, looking like we do now, not how I look." Before Peter could ponder that seriously, I added something else to give his attention to.

"You also better start thinking like a girl. While you're at it, I'd suggest we think about a nice cute name you might like, Peter!"

"Why'd you have to twist the knife, Marci. This hurts enough as it is?"

"Because it was you who stuck it in." I shot back. "As you told me of the very drastic things you tried to cut yourself out of your suit, I became resigned to the fact that I'm not getting out of mine, if it even is a suit that could ever be taken off any longer. In addition to what else I'm sensing in this thing, I think it's fusing or growing to my skin, all over."

"How do you mean?" Peter was idly scratching his palm with his long, purple nails

"You remember my hair was long when we parted? Well, it was several years longer when I put my helmet on. I could feel it under the helmet then. See any extra padding now?" I ran the tips of my long nails over my scalp. "Nothing under this layer now, trust me.

"At first, I could move this around on my body and pull it away from my skin. I can't do that anymore. Though my sensitivity to - and of touch, has been greatly reduced in most places," I picked and pulled on my biceps. "that feels like nothing but muscle underneath with no epidermis in between.

"You try it and tell me I'm wrong, Pete."



--- PETER (Pamela) ---


I had been too shocked by what had begun to happen after I'd taken a shower right after putting on the suit destined for me, I had been in too much pain, too much mental anguish was coming down heavy and hard to do any bodily examinations of my skin, much less give thought to exploring the new sex that had been rapidly developing. Very hesitantly I started as Marci had, by running my own talons across my smooth pate. They could not help but register that there was nothing was there, but skull! My shoulder length, ash hair had given me difficulty getting tucked under the helmet to close the slide.

"Feel your nipples and tits. It's OK. I won't mind."

"I..., I can't. It's just not right", I squeaked.

"Don't be an ass!" To prove her point, Marci pushed aside her coat and sinking back on the couch, began to play with her own huge nipples. "I wonder if you'll get udders like mine, Pete." She giggled, "Hey, wouldn't it be neat if these udders could give milk?"

"Stop!" My little girl protest was screamed. Maybe Marci was pushing a bit too hard and too fast. Managing her balance on her toes was difficult, once attained, Marci could maintain it and walk in ballet boots.

"You kept me late. I'm going to work in the morning. You have the couch, I'm taking your bed. Do not wake me before I'm ready.

"I'll give you a chance in the morning to talk. Nights." Marci moved toward the hallway as she spoke.

"Wait?" I pleaded with my high-pitched voice. She did stop to look with her expressionless face, all that moved were our mouths.

"Wait for what?" Marci minced a few more feet to the hallway and leaned on the corner.

"I heard you on the phone. That is the only reason I'm here. If you want sympathy or answers - well, ain't happening. I'm there too.

"Hard as it may be, I've heard none from you that help me - and I'm in the same predicament.

"We'll deal with this in the morning. Good night!" Marci seemed a bit annoyed with me. I guess she had a right to be.

Morning had brought more changes to both of us. Marci had half expected hers to occur, but not the changes that were evident on me. Where she was still enlarging, I had stopped, in fact my breasts were smaller than previously and my pussy lips protruded a little less too. Not only were my breasts now more normal, rounded F cups, and my feet arched only as if wearing six inch heels, but what had been an identical face to hers was rounder - much more feminine and less bizarre.

"You look in the mirror since you got up?" Marci stared at me as she spoke in the kitchen

"No! I hate this! The last thing I want to look at is how ridiculous I appear, Marci."

"I really think you should", she said. "You are not the same girl as you were last night."

"I'm not a girl." I now had a feminine voice, that of a girl in her mid to late teens, not the child-like one that both she and I had spoken with. Yes, I still looked like an animated, overdone, fetish doll, but my figure and face were no longer as exaggerated as before, while Marci's were even more so.

"Better do a reality check. With tits and a cunt like yours you'll have a lot of difficulty convincing anyone you were a man.

"Did you think of a cute name? I really can't introduce you to Rog' as Peter you know?"

"What are you talking about, Marci? 'Introduce me to Rog',' whoever he is?"

"Roger Sheppard, my boss", Marci explained. "I thought of what you might be able to do, since you'll have a rather difficult time explaining your new look to your former boss and coworkers, to say nothing about your clients. Working as a salesperson and technician just might be more than difficult.

"So, what's your name now, girl?"

"Well - to answer your question - I did think of one." Though neither of us could animate our faces to show any expressions, I would have. I was embarrassed. "What do you think of Pamela?"

"Like in Pamela Anderson? Looking at you this morning, there is a resemblance now. Pam's fine, if you like it - I'll have no prob' with it."

"Tell me what you thought up with your boss?" I fixed both of us a large bowl of Wheaties and Marci started to eat hers.

"I've got to go into the studio by ten. I'm sure they can use me still, even looking like this. After all, I am a kinky, fetish model. I don't know of any reason you can't be one too, now that you've the body for that sort of work, Pam. Pay is great and other than some of the bondage, there is nothing hard about it."

"I used to buy the magazines you appeared in, Marci. Some of those bondage poses didn't look like you are faking it at all."

"I fake nothing. It is real, Pete. Roger insists that if I'm doing a bondage shoot, I'm in bondage at least thirty minutes before the camera clicks the first shot. A lot of that isn't fun, especially full suspension and being whipped so they don't have to fake the welts with makeup. Rog' likes the 3-D look of real welts. No joking, it hurts.



--- MARCI ---


"Well, you going to give it a try and come with me this morning?" Pamela stared at me a few moments. If her face could animate, I was sure it would be a quizzical look, a thoughtful one or both together.

"I've nothing to wear." I had to laugh.

"Spoken just like a girl, Pamela. Well - Marci thought of that too. I packed a wig and my black rubber cape. Sorry that I didn't bring you any shoes too. I didn't know your feet were smaller. It'll be just to and from my car and there are shoes at the studio that should fit you now that your feet are smaller."

A very nervous Pamela followed me on her tiptoes as I minced into the studio complex (as Roger's top model, I had my own set of keys). The costume lockers yielded a pair of black patent knee boots and I passed these to her.

"They'll fit. Put them on."

"Fit them on your mistress, slavegirl!" Instantly angry, very angry! Pete's attempts at dominating me were a small part of the reason we'd broken up. I hated being dominated by a male! Being in bondage and assuming submissive poses before the cameras is not being submissive, not when I'm being paid two hundred an hour for doing it! My initial urge was to tell Pam to 'Fuck off!'.

My collar began to contract and the protrubences up my ass and in my vagina expanded at the same time. It was instant pain and I was unable to breathe. The pain stopped only once I calmed to gain control and dropped to my knees. My collar relaxed to its former tightness when I curtseyed and knelt to put on the boots I'd selected for Pamela.

Despite the images portrayed by my photo shoots and videos, I was anything but submissive, the pay was the only reason I did it. After my affair with Peter, I'd accepted that I was, in reality, a dominant, lipstick lesbian. I've nothing against men, so long as they did not wish to use me for physical sex. Yes, my work was physical sex for them, but you get the point. I preferred soft, curvy, girls to share my bed.


Why am I kneeling lacing up Pam's boots?

"There's a huge selection here, you want anything else to wear, Pam?" I looked through the locker to find something for myself.

"Thanks, not now, just the cape. Thank you for doing the boots for me.

"What happens now?" Pam asked me.

"We wait for Rog' and Sherri. Sherri handles the office work and assists Roger. She's the one that prepares the models for the camera too." I explained.

"Do you really think that I'll get a job here, Marci?" Peter, now Pamela, seemed to be having second thoughts. While I had driven us from his house to the other side of the city, his mind reflected on the glossy magazines in his closet, the photosets of Marci in latex, leather and frequent, stringent bondage.


"You OK, Pam?" I had heard the pain filled gasp.

"No and yes. I think I just felt this damn thing break some of my ribs. It's getting tighter. Yes, I'll live." Pamela reflected the same thoughts that their suits were not going to kill them that I'd had.

"You're face is changing more, you know." The changes were more obvious than earlier.

"That a question or a statement? No I don't know."

"You look nothing like me now. You did last night, you could have been my twin, but now you are much rounder." Pamela placed her long nailed fingers about her waist. She could touch her fingertips in front with the tips of her nails touching in back,

"I don't feel fatter. If anything I'm thinner, Marci."

"I said 'rounder' not fatter. Your face is rounder than before and your figure, despite what you think, isn't the same. You are developing differently, Pam."

I held out a black latex skirt and snapped it about Pam's full cheeks and small waist. She watched as I stepped into a full, ruffled petticoat of white latex. Once I fastened it low on my full round ass, I slipped a short red latex dress over my arms, raised them up and let it slither over my body.

"Pamela, please lace my dress?" Pam stepped behind, threaded the laces through the eyelets and smoothed everything in place, then laced my dress closed.

"You look like a maid in that."

"Supposed to. Want to help me with the pinne, please?" Pamela took the white ruffled apron and helped to get in into place.

"You should use a different wig, Marci. I always think that sexy maids should either have their hair up or a short bob, so it doesn't distract them or interfere with doing their chores."

"I'll agree to it pinned up, but never short hair. Guess it doesn't matter now as I don't have any. The wigs are in that closet over there, pick one you like for yourself and one you think I'll look good in." Pamela selected a blonde mane for herself. It matched the Pam Anderson look.

"What's the matter?" I asked. Pam had set my wig down and tried to yank hers off.

"It..., it's growing into my scalp! That's what's the matter. When I pull, it feels like I'm pulling my own hair." The sensation on her head stopped. The wig had transformed into hair as if she'd grown it herself.

"I don't like that. I'll pick my own." I definitely did not like the very artificial looking wig that Pam was approaching with. The wig she picked for me was dark, auburn red with highlights of blonde. She did remember that I hated red hair and short hair in general, but said it would go with the red outfit and my green eyes. In a way, I had to agree, but I still didn't like it.

My collar again began to tighten to choke me. Pam hesitated until her own collar started tightening, compelling her to fit the wig on my smooth head. I hated it!

These damn suits were controlling us, forcing both to do things against our will.

My sensations were the same as Pam's had been, once the wig had been placed.

"Well, seems that we now have little choice about liking or not liking, Pam. Careful what you wish for, we might get it." I brushed out the stray hairs before one of the mirrors and fitted the ruffled, maid's headpiece completing my uniform. I then turned and fixed Pam's new hair into a gorgeous, mid-back length mane with bangs.

"You are very pretty, Pamela, mean that."

"Thanks. You're really cute looking as you do."

Roger and Sherri had been listening to our tales for more than an hour. He was in thought as the story was told. Sherri was fascinated. She was the first to speak.

"I think we should hire Pamela, Rog'. They're perfect together. We've been talking about videos, well - this is a perfect intro. We'll do a mag' too, a whole series. That will really help sell the videos."

"Let's hear your idea, Sherri?"

"How's about we set up the story with little Marci as the maid and Pamela as Mistress of the manor. We'll make it a series, we could keep this going for a few years, at least. Start with Marci responding to a classified for domestic help."



--- PAMELA ---


I could tell that Marci was not pleased, in any way, with the story line that Sherri unfolded. She seemed unable to object. Every time she wanted to protest or interject something, the material down her throat, solidified about her larynx. I, on the other hand, was thrilled and offered many suggestions.

"We should set up a house, maybe a big one that would fit the story. Install quality video cameras, I can do that. Marci Maid would be taped twenty-four hours a day...."

"Marci", Roger addressed his model, "you've been quiet about all this. Anything you want to add?" Damn right, I think it sucks! Marci wanted to say that, but couldn't form the words to protest. Being a maid, except for a shoot, was no turn on for her. Without her willing it, her head shook no. Damn it!

Sherri was able to fashion a piece of latex into a pretty top for me using clips in back where the camera wouldn't see. Throughout the day, she had to keep adjusting it to stay in place long enough for the next exposure as Roger set up different shots throughout the studio.

Marci was forced to take frequent breaks after the first hour, her boots were killing her poor feet. Who or whatever controlled our suits had decided that Marci would be en-pointe while letting me off easy. My feet had stopped arching at the equivalent of seven inch heels, which Marci helped me put on after noon.

Marci had been able to talk again, so long as she did not attempt to object or protest in any way. Her little girl voice could speak anything that she wanted it to, except to complain. Marci could explain this to everyone, but could not utter one complaint or protest.

It was past six when Roger rewound the film roll in his camera for the final time that day. I could see that Marci was enduring between shots, she was a real pro to be able to animate when directed for a shot, but between, her exhaustion was clearly evident.



--- MARCI ---


"Rog', can we call it a wrap for today? I'm not going to last much longer and I need to eat." While I'm one of the few models that can last a whole photo session actually standing and walking on my toes in ballets, I have limits and I was rapidly approaching them. I had to call it off.

"Sure, Marci. I was going to call it a day anyway. You were great today.

"Pam, how you holding up?" Roger had turned to Pamela who had just sat on a high stool.

"I can now appreciate Marci and models, in general, a lot more. I just never imagined that standing before the camera was really work. My feet and the backs of my legs are killing me." Pamela chuckled.

"You know I think we should make all who buy the magazines go through an afternoon in seven inch heels."

"Hey, Roger." Sherri chimed up with an idea. "We could charge them to do just that. Most fantasize that they'd be forced to and would pay us."

"Count me out - if they're guys, Sherri." I never knew if she was really serious with some of her wild ideas. It was half and half. The ones Sherri was serious about usually paid off well.

"We all know how you are, Marci." Roger was the one to intervene for me. Yes, he definitively knew now where my preferences lay. When I'd first started to work with him he had tried to date me. I made it perfectly clear what I wanted in a date and sex. Surprise as it may be, Roger and I date often, but we do not have sex and he accepts that.

Sherri, on the other hand..., well, you figure it out.

"Pam, why not come in the office and we'll take care of some of the paperwork. In the rush this morning, we all just settled down and started to work." Roger had taken Pam's arm to lead her from the studio."

"I really want to help Marci. We can do that in the morning, can't we?" I was waiting for both to leave. Roger knew why I was motionless and Sherri remained silent. Roger can be forceful if needed. He just hooked his finger in Pam's collar ring and pulled her very close.

"I'll say this once only. I own this place. You will obey and follow instructions and directions that Sherri or I give you or you are out on your ass, girl. I do not expect back talk or an argument unless you simply can not or you are in distress." He tugged the ring.

"Come in the office." Sherri waited for the door to close and I waited for Sherri.

"What would you like, Marci?" Sherri could play many roles. I did not know which one she was shifting her gears into, but it did not matter. I guessed correctly, but said nothing of what I thought, just tested where she was.

"Mieko, food and sleep, please?" She smiled broadly.

"I really think I'm getting to sense you, luv. I already arranged for her. Want to change?"

"Please, I also need more things to wear to cover at least part of me."

"All packed up. I filled three cases and they are in your car. You going on your own or can I come?" Sherri was in her 'big sister' role, one I really liked when I had had a hard day. Though twenty-one and two years younger than me, we both enjoyed when she took care of me.

"I'd like you to come, if you want. Call and make sure that Mayumi will be available for you."

No sillies, we were not off to some Asian brothel, there would be no sex with my Japanese girlfriends. Neither that night nor any other. Mieko and Mayumi were expert masseuses, I did not want hanky-panky and there never was with my little favorite, never was, never would be, though I knew for fact - there could be - for a fee.

We were going for a massage and nothing more!



--- PAMELA ---


"It's getting late and I've got to say I'm getting hungry. Thank you for the job. I'm looking forward to working here with you."

It seemed our business was concluded, he already knew my past and said strongly, 'It is not a topic for discussion, ever'! He had felt compelled to try and tell me. 'Sherri knows too.' I was a bit angry that Marci had let it out, but reasoned she did have to explain me to them if I stood a chance of getting work.

"I really should see that Marci gets home." I stood before Roger's desk. "Thank you."

"Please sit back down? I'll take you home." Oh shit. My new boss was going to make a pass at me. I've only been a female a couple of days and, without trying, I had a guy wanting me.

When I tried to argue and protest I felt the collar about my neck tighten. I just sat back in the chair, trying hard to be graceful.

"Marci has already left with Sherri, I'm sure." Roger glanced at the wall clock, I followed his eyes. "Yup, seven ten, probably been gone at least a half hour. If you don't believe, go look. I'll wait."

"I'll believe you. What is going to happen now? What do you want?" I was defensive and apprehensive. The way I said it could have told anyone that, I'm sure.

"I want you to relax - for starters." I watched my new boss go to the closet behind his desk, before opening the door he turned to look at me.

"Marci is one of the best. Do nothing to get on her bad side and do not interject yourself, no matter what you want, between her and Sherri." Reaching in the closet, Roger brought out a garment bag.

"While we were working, Sherri ordered some clothes from one of the shops that does our costumes and makes a lot of Marci's clothes." Roger laid the bag on the chair next to me. "She ordered those for you. Feel free to borrow accessories from the lockers in the dressing room, Pam. There are some cases to pack in." Roger pointed toward the dressing rooms.

"Right now. I want you to go in - dress in something appropriate and I'll take you for something to eat and then home." I was more apprehensive than ever, but needed food, I'd no money in my purse as I had no purse and no way home. If I had to force myself, I just had to accept that my having sex with my new boss might be the price. It took some effort, but I forced that thought to the back of my mind.



--- MARCI ---


"Hi, Mieko." I bowed to her.

"Hi ya, yerseff, Marci." She couldn't help, but giggle, though Mieko did try to restrain it. Like Sherri, Mieko could play many different rolls well, but hers were for a fee. She was a doll and played only one with me. Yes, I paid her fees, but that night Roger was - one of my perks.

"That reery you Marci? You rook coot."

"Reery me." She did not mind my mimicking her accent. My new voice made it even easier. "Very hot bath than a beat - the - shit - out - of - me massage tonight. If I fall asleep, please don't wake me."

"Hi, Mayumi." Mayumi had come in the greeting room and went to tend Sherri as I was speaking, she curtseyed and I returned it.

"Hello, Marci." I liked her and she knew it. She also knew I preferred Mieko. Neither had a problem. I tipped well, even when Roger picked up the main bill.

"Sherri said you would dine in the bath. They will be started shortly. Will it be together tonight or separate, Marci?" Mieko could drop or turn on her accent - even much heavier, at will. Born in California, it was an act for both of them when they wished it. I looked at Sherri.

"Either, Marci. I know you must be exhausted. Your choice, I'm OK."

"Another night then. See you in the morning." I minced toward her with my arms up and Sherri met them.

"Enjoy, Marci. You are great." We kissed. It was the first since I had put on the helmet and very disappointing! My rubber covered lips and tongue could no longer taste Sherri. I love to taste my lovers. I love to taste their different lipsticks. I couldn't! I could still feel and move my tongue and lips freely to kiss and suck hers into me.

"Mmmmm, Marci that was the best. I love your new mouth, mean that." I just pushed away gently. I'd have given Sherri a big smile, even a wink if I could still do either. I moved to give the best smile my lips would allow.

Finding Mieko's hand, I let her lead me from the greeting room.



--- PAMELA---


The black PVC dress I found in the garment bag was acceptable. As I have stated, before the suit, I'd never had a thought of putting on a dress. The suit had given me a large set of breasts and, though less than Marci's, an obscene pussy. Even though I still was not thinking as a woman, a dress did seem more appropriate.

"I think you look fine, Pam. I'll help you with the bags then we'll get something to eat." Roger tended the door and that felt strange. I've always tended doors for women and now a guy was treating me like one. He got me settled in the front seat, placed the bags in back and climbed behind the wheel.

"Bet you're really hungry. Where to for dinner, Pam?" Roger was being nice. Ladies choice ran through my head.

"Roger, if you can understand - looking like I do takes more than a little bit of getting used to. OK with you if we get take out and just go somewhere else to eat. I'm not quite ready to walk in a restaurant looking like this."

"Sure. I guessed that anyway, but thought I'd ask." Roger knew generally where I lived and turned in that direction. "So what will it be, burgers, chicken, pizza or something else?"

"You heard Marci say she no longer could taste anything when Sherri called out for lunch. I'm the same - no taste any more, at all. Guess I'll be eating healthy from now on." Healthy food was hard on most of us as a lot of it, as you know, doesn't taste as good as fat, salt and all we have been told isn't good for us. I preferred to eat based on what tasted good and not what was good.

"How about Chinese? That OK, Roger?"

"Chinese it is. I know where they serve a great smorgasbord. I'll go there so we don't have to wait."

When he parked twenty minutes later, I stayed in the van and gave some thought to my future. It was dark and the strip mall wasn't that busy. I thought hard on my immediate future.

In more than one way I'd thought and hoped that just maybe I could move in with Marci and let her do the public aspects of keeping house. I did not want to, but began to accept that it was a selfish thought of mine. Marci had been great in accepting the new me and helping me land a job I'd never given a passing thought to - working with a fetish model, much less to being one myself.

That afternoon I'd watched Marci very closely in an attempt to follow her lead, even imitate some of what she did. I'd watched her try very hard to be pleasing and I needed to be accepted as Pamela now. Something then registered - I'd not picked up on it earlier.

Marci was trying very hard to be pleasing, all of us were, but there was more. I'd never suspected it and, if told, I'd find it very difficult to believe until I'd seen it too. My former girlfriend was trying to be pleasing not just for the camera, but for another important reason.

There was another she was trying to be pleasing to, in addition to just doing her best. Sherri and Marci were more than just what was on the surface and associated with doing their jobs. That they had left together, without a word, seemed to bind together the thought I was having.

"Roger," I waited until he was backing out. "are Marci and Sherri lovers?" He stopped the van to face me before answering.

"I do not pry into what either Sherri or Marci do when not working for me. I'd never ask either that question. They spend a lot of their own time together, but Marci does not restrict herself to one good friend. This may come as a real kick in your crotch, Pam. Marci's best friends are all great looking chicks. She isn't into guys and most definitely - guys do not get into her." Roger put the van in motion.

"Kinda blunt, but that is the way Marci is. Accept it.

"Where we going?" I had to force myself to give the answer I had to.

"My house," I said. "You are invited to eat with me. There's white wine. If you want anything else, we'll need to stop."

As he drove, I fell quiet with my own thoughts, just giving directions as they were needed.



--- MARCI ---


I knew what water had done to the suit. I could not imagine that there was much more it could do except turn me into some sci-fi monster. Well, there was still comic book modeling. I did not think that was going to happen. I had Mieko draw a deep, very hot bath. I've come to love long, hot soaks in the tub. I knew I'd feel better after that and Mieko's massage.

Mieko helped me out of all I was wearing. Without the support of my stiff leather boots, I had to sit. I could no longer stand without wearing them - the suit had done this to my feet. She started the tub and undressed herself.

"Mieko, they won't do me any good now, but put the lotions and oils in for yourself." When I went there for a bath and the following massage, Mieko would join me in the large sunken tub. First thing we'd do was to wash each other clean. As I'd soak, my massage would begin, underwater. I often teased that my little friend should have been a mermaid instead of fully human.

Right after we'd washed, the food was brought in and we ate, sitting with the floating tray between us, then she would really begin to earn her pay.

"Mieko, please inform Sherri I'll be spending the night here. If she wants to use my car, she has permission." I'd been on the table an hour and was getting sleepy.

"Sherri sent word that she was spending the night with Mayumi, Marci. By now I'm sure she is upstairs. Your friend does not like a massage like I give you. Do I need to tell you that Sherri likes to be rubbed in other ways?" Mieko has a very delightful giggle. We knew exactly what was going on and did not need any pictures.

"How much do you want tonight?" I'd just rolled on my belly the second time. More than once Mieko had shown her petite body was nearly tireless. She could work on me for hours and her strength never seemed to diminish.

"All night or as much as you can - even after I fall asleep.

"Oh that feels sooo good. Harder." Mieko answered that with a very hard slap on my sensitive rear. I yelped in surprise and the pain.




--- PAMELA ---


"Just be a sec', Pam. I want some beer." Roger had stopped his van before a liquor store with the engine running. I grabbed for and caught his wrist, taking a few deep breaths, not that my suit permitted really deep breaths, I turned to face him.

"Let me do it, please?" I knew I was going to have to sooner or later. Seeing the empty lot and empty store I thought this might be a good first time. Roger just stared a moment.

"Tell you what, Pam. We'll do it together. Trust me - me being there will help." I released my talons from around his wrist.

"I'd like that." I knew he couldn't see my smile, but I tried to give one anyway. "Please give me the money and let me do most, OK?" When he helped me to stand I sought Roger's hand to hold.

"Guess I'm as ready for this as I'll ever be."

"Did you see that guy's face? Wish you'd brought one of your cameras - it was priceless." Roger laughed with me as he drove away.

"Right on, Pam - truly priceless. No model could fake that look."

"Third house on the right, park in the drive."

I went up to pee after pointing to the powder room and telling him to make himself at home. I'd a nagging feeling as I'd rode from the studio that there was going to be another surprise package waiting in the middle of my bed. I was not disappointed that there was not! It was a relief.

Roger had two settings on the dining room table, soft music on and the candles lit when I came back down. It upset me to think of the significance of what this meant.

He tended my chair, poured me a glass of wine and then served the food that the microwave had just reheated.

"If you are acting so stiff because you think I'm trying to seduce you," Roger had sat on the opposite side of the table, "calm down. I'm not. I just want to talk with you, Pamela."

"Excuse me, be right back." I got a strange look as I got up to go in the kitchen.

"Chopsticks. I never eat Chinese with a fork, silly habit, but it's me." I set a pair next to him then resat.

"You were saying." I started to eat. I was hungry.



--- MARCI ---


Mieko returned wearing high heels, a leather thong panties and elbow length gloves. She dropped a pile of black leather and hardware beside my head. I recognized everything.

"What are you doing?" I said it softly. Her slap on my rear was playful.

"You a bondage model. You know damn well what I doing. Be quiet. Enjoy Mieko's treat, Marci, or I get gag too." A padded blindfold was the first thing to be placed.

At the end of a leash, I was guided upstairs. Without asking, she had relaced my boots so I could walk. I'd never had reason to go to the rooms upstairs before, but did not protest. Other than before the cameras, this was the first time anyone, including Sherri, had put me in bondage. It was nice having Mieko do it.

Mieko did not speak once the blindfold had been placed. Her hands had guided mine into the cuffs and positioned me as she wanted once I'd stood. With only the leash to my collar and not touching me, Mieko had guided me up and to another room.

No previous massage I'd had, included having her 'walk my back'. Spread wide and tight on my belly, Mieko had gotten on top then stepped on me in her six-inch heels.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you, Marci." I guess to test herself and me, I felt all of her weight go to just one heel as she lifted her other foot and rocked back on the other so it dug in.

"I'm OK. I'll try not to squirm - just be careful you don't fall."

"There's a trapeze bar up here for me to hold on to. Squirm all you want." Mieko started to walk, on my back.

"Go to sleep. I want to practice in these heels and this is a good time. I've a guy that bought these for me to walk on him and said he'd pay me five if I did. You are as good as any to practice on. Now go to sleep, I'm going to try to walk a few miles before I roll you over to trample your big tits and cunt." I knew she was teasing me.

Surprise to me, I fell asleep with her marching on my thighs. Felt good, way down deep.



--- PAMELA ---


"Mind if I sleep on the couch, Pam? I really don't think I should drive home tonight."

Roger had talked to me over dinner and for two more hours after that on the couch. I don't know what had compelled me - maybe finishing the bottle of wine. When we had left the table and moved the candles in the living room, Roger had sat at the far end of the couch. Unless I sat on him, I could not have sat any closer. Hesitantly, I felt his arm snake about my shoulder and I just snuggled that much closer.

"Yes, I do mind." I stood and pulled him with both of my hands to stand so close my breasts were pressing his chest. "There is a king-sized bed upstairs. I want you to sleep there tonight" I wished I'd the guts to kiss him then. I didn't, I was a little afraid, but I could not stop what I had started.

"Well, if you are going to insist. I won't argue, Pam."



--- MARCI ---


Someone releasing the tension in the straps that had been holding me stretched all night awakened me. "Marci, it's eight thirty, time to rise an' shine."

"Good morning, Sherri." I stretched like a cat. "Mmmm, I feel great." Blindfold off, I tried to smile at my friend.

"How was your night with Mayumi?" She giggled.

"Don't ask, don't tell. Remember?" Her brush smoothed my artificial hair and it felt just like real hair as it pulled. "Great, since you did ask.

"How was yours with your little pixie?" Of course - we were both curious.

"I'm going to ask Matsumi if she'll take you in trade." She playfully batted my breast with a huge smile.

"Careful what you ask for, Marci. I'll get you dressed then we'll grab some breakfast. We don't want to be late for work."

The studio was locked and empty when Sherri and I arrived about a half hour before starting time - ten.

"You curious about the phone call I took while we ate, Marci?"

"If you wanted to tell me, you would have, Sherri." I was fine. It did not bother me that she stepped from the room to answer her cell phone.

"Come in the dressing room, the boss and the other model will be late, they have something to do." I did as I was asked. Everything that could be removed was and Sherri laced on a crotch length pair of boots.

"Roger would like you in suspension for awhile. How do you want your hands and arms?"

"Since you asked, I guess it is inverted suspension. Correct?" She nodded.

"Four foot spreader and discipline helmet. Unless you want - choice is yours - gag is optional."

"U-glove and a small gag."

Half an hour later I was hanging from the spreader bar between my ankles. By the pressure on my covered mouth when Sherri kissed there and the direction her voice came from, I guessed my head was about five feet above the tiles.

"I've got work and have the camera on you to monitor you, Marci. I'm not going to talk, but will check periodically. Hang in there, Marci." Why did Sherri always feel compelled to say 'hang in there' every time I was in suspension?


It was Pam who I first saw when she removed my helmet as Sherri undid the U-glove behind my back. Seeing Roger reloaded one of his cameras, I knew I'd been photographed.

"You OK, Marci?"

"Sure Rog'." A glance at the wall clock told me I'd been in that position nearly five hours. "Hungry though. You guys bring me anything to eat?"

"There's cheeseburgers and fries in the dressing room for you. From what Pam told me last night, it won't matter if they are cold now."

"Won't matter at all, I can assure you." I minced into the dressing room, retrieved the bag and stepped out chewing my burger.

"So what's the plan for today, or is everything still a big secret?"

"No secret. What we did this morning was go look at a few houses for this story. Marci, you always told me that you wanted me to make the shoots seem as real as I could for you. Is that still the way you want things?"

"Yes, Rog' - make them real. Just explain to me why I was 'hanging in there' for five hours." He chuckled before explaining the reason.

"Pamela's idea." Roger held up his hand. "Before you get bad thoughts, no she did not say inverted suspension, just suggested that you stay here while we looked at houses to rent. You have Sherri to thank for the bondage. I left it all up to her. She said you'd be OK with it."

"I am. Thanks for explaining.

"Pam, if that had been your idea. I wouldn't be very pleased with you right now." It was beginning to get to me that her face was always expressionless with her lilac eyes staring straight ahead and unmoving. I'm sure I was having the same effect on the others.

"Understood. Rog' told me about you liking to go into shoots making everything real. Since you are supposed to be the maid, of course, you don't get to select your employer's house, Marci."

"Understood. So - you guys find anything?"

"Yes and no. We found the perfect place, but not at two grand a week. Everything affordable wasn't worth getting out of the car to look at." Roger seemed disgusted with the results of their morning's efforts.

"How much is affordable?" I had an idea, one I'd be very happy with.

"Eight hundred, a thousand a week, but it does need to be big and look like a house that would have a maid."

"Rog', I've a suggestion - my house." I saw Sherri light up. She's been there often, Pamela and Roger have never seen it. "Three thousand a month. Listen to my whole proposal before you reject it.

"You pay me two thousand a day for ten hours. I will still get that. You rent my house for the three grand I just mentioned and you get to photograph the maid twenty-four hours a day.

"I want one day a week off, plus one morning and one afternoon/evening in addition. You pay all expenses just as if you rented another place for this, as long as we do this shoot. What say?"

"Sounds fair to me, boss." Sherri was grinning ear to ear.

"I'll answer in a minute, let me put all this together first." Roger turned to Pam.



--- PAMELA ---


"I'm paying you fifty an hour, Pam - five hundred a day. You earn twenty-five hundred a week. If you agree, you get room and clothing, but you also are going to be before the cameras, at least the video ones, twenty-four hours a day. I'll give you the same off duty time as Marci asked for - only I want it at different times unless I say otherwise. You also will pay for food for you, Marci and guests, the utilities, as well as your own entertainment.

"You in agreement?"

The math was easy. Roger was offering me more than twice as much a year as Peter had been making. If I sold my house there would those payments I'd not need to put out in mortgage and insurance.

"Sure, who could say no to that?" I certainly couldn't.

"Hold on. Before everyone else agrees to this deal, I want something perfectly clear up front. My job is to be maid and not slavegirl. Let that go on the record. If there is any dispute, I want arbitration to settle it if we can't work it out ourselves." Marci seemed like she knew exactly what she wanted, I only had a small clue. Roger knew where she was going from too.

"Agreed. No one is going to take advantage of Marci. I promise that I'll keep Pam under control." He gave me a big smile as he said it.

"I do want to see your house, not that I don't believe you. OK." That was fair and Marci agreed.

"Pam you ride with me, Sherri, if you don't mind riding with Marci?" I'm sure Roger taking my hand in his was not lost on either of the other girls.

Since Marci and Sherri were the only ones who knew the way, we had to wait at least ten minutes for her and Sherri to come out, lock the studio and get into Marci's car with two stuffed garment bags.

"Uniforms for Marci", Sherri called to us.

Marci's house was very nice and very pricey. I guess when you are paid what she is, you can afford living in a house like that. Marci gave us all the grand tour while Sherri, already familiar with the house, started to prepare supper.

"You can use my bedroom, Pam. It will be more fitting if we're going to be using cuts from the videos. I'll move into smaller quarters." Her bedroom apartment was gorgeous.

"Thank you, Marci. You won't need to twist my arm."

"Just remember that this is my room in my house and things will return to normal after this project, Pamela." Marci said it softly, but made it clear that she meant it. The rest of her house was every bit as gorgeous.

"Who provides your maid service now, Marci?" Her whole house was immaculate and her answer surprised me.

"I don't have a maid, silly girl. I clean it myself. Yes, I do have a contractor for the grounds, but only my guests are permitted inside when I'm not home. Except for this damn corset suit and being on my toes all the time I should be able manage OK, Pamela." Marci even added a little curtsey.

"Marci can I see what you have in mind for the maid's quarters?" Roger had been holding his hands up to frame pictures and shots through out our tour, just like you see movie directors doing. I could easily understand why this would be an important part of our work. Marci led us down through the kitchen.

"Pamela, will the maid be serving this evening?" All of us, even Marci, laughed.

"But of course, Sherri. My guest and I shall take dinner in the dining room this evening." I turned to see Marci's reaction, before I even asked, she joined right in.

"Sure, I'm game. What time will the cook be ready?" Marci was moving lightly on her toes with none of the tiredness I'd seen the afternoon before.



--- MARCI ---


"How should I start addressing you now Pamela? Do you prefer 'Mistress' or 'ma'am'? I asked this with a proper curtsey. I really did feel like starting to play. After my night with Mieko and most of my day hanging upside down, I was pleasantly surprised how refreshed I felt.

"I'd prefer 'ma'am', please?" I repeated it with another curtsey. I took them to the three rooms that I used for the laundry room, a shower changing/dressing room for the pool and my hobby room.

"What do you think of these for the maid's quarters, Roger? All the maid really needs is here. We just have to move in a cot, there's one in the garage. That closet is big enough for all the uniforms and things once we clean it out." I thought it would be adequate. Now that I was in the suit permanently, I'd no need for any more toiletries than soap. Makeup for Pamela and me was totally unnecessary.

"With your permission, ma'am, I'll retrieve the rest of my luggage and change to a proper uniform." Yes, I was getting excited. Twenty minutes later in a short black latex uniform with white accessories I curtseyed to Pam and Roger cuddled close on the couch. From what I'd observed since being let down, it would not surprise me if Roger had made a woman out of Pam the previous night. Good - if he had.

"How may I serve you ma'am, sir?"

"Marci, serve my guest a beer and assure that the table is set for two. We will dine when the cook has everything ready, please?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Sherri and I ate in the kitchen together, after I'd cleared their table.

"Roger offered me a slot in all this, wants me to get some uniforms and play cook and housekeeper, Marci."

"Great! Hope he increased your pay too, luv."

"He did.

"As housekeeper, I'm put in charge of the staff and running the household."

"Guess that means the maid takes her orders from all three of you, now?" I knew she saw no expression, even though I was upset.

"Marci, don't be angry. I'm doing the best I can. Yes, all three of us will have the authority to order you."

"And if I'm found displeasing or disobedient, I suppose that the story requires the disobedient maid be punished appropriately?"

"Yes." Sherri had hesitated in answering me and her hesitation had been sufficient.

"May I still set some conditions?" I did not wait for her answer, but stated what I wanted. "Only you or Mieko will administer my punishments, if I earn them, most definitely - Roger and Pamela will not!" Sherri's answer was only that she'd 'talk to Roger about it'.

I was told to set up the small guest room for Sherri, now the housekeeper, and the larger of the two for Roger. They would be frequent guests so that a maximum of different activities could be recorded on film and tape. While I was left to do chores around the house, the three of them left early to make arrangements for Pamela to move in semi-permanently and Sherri and Roger on an even less permanent basis.

The following morning I was surprised to find Sherri in the kitchen, setting out things to prepare breakfast. Sherri had left for home in Roger's van early the previous evening, before seven.

"When did you get back, Sherri? I though you went home?"

"I did. I swung past the mall on the way to get this uniform and slept at my place. Up early, I packed and returned about twenty minutes ago." My friend was in a white nurse's dress with a white pinafore protecting it. On her blonde curls was a small chef's hat.

"Well, you do make a cute cook in that, Sherri."


I got busy setting the breakfast nook, then straightening up the downstairs until Pamela and Roger awoke. Wearing a red knit, Pamela was the first to come in. I curtseyed.

"Good morning, ma'am." She didn't acknowledge me in any way beyond a brief glance.

"Good morning, Sherri. I'll just have juice and cereal for breakfast. Coffee is no fun anymore now that I can't taste it. Have the maid serve us by the pool once Roger is up."

"Any idea what he'd like for breakfast, Pam? There are eggs and bacon here, but someone needs to do serious food shopping today."

"No, I don't, Sherri. Use your imagination for Rog'. You've known him a lot longer than I have.

"You are the house keeper, see it that to either you or the maid attend to what needs doing. You are in charge. I'll see to providing the money needed to run the house. I will expect you will provide a budget for my review." Pamela was really getting serious about her new role.


"Certainly, Miss Parker, please?" Where did Pamela get that name? Doesn't matter.

"Is a newspaper delivered to the house?" Sherri looked at me for the answer to Pamela's question. I nodded.

"Yes, Miss Parker."

"Have the maid bring it with my orange juice by the pool then, please?" Pamela left.

Pamela's heels clicked loudly on the tiles as she walked gracefully from the room, her large cheeks swaying and jiggling. Suddenly it hit me. Pamela was walking gracefully! It wasn't that she's mastered doing this in seven-inch heels, it was that she walked like that at all!

Peter had walked with a severe limp ever since I had known him! Now that Peter was Pamela, since the suit had transformed Peter into her, there had been no limp at all? Perhaps - no certainly, her suit had healed the legs inside of it!

"Marci!" Her sharp voice broke my thought. "You heard Miss Parker. Fetch the paper while I pour her juice. Get your tray on the way back here." I just curtseyed.

Without the covering protection and in the early morning sunlight, I was nervous about being told to get the paper. I'd have to mince in my white boots, two hundred feet to the end of the drive giving every passing motorist a full view of my bizarre figure in the abbreviated gray and white uniform I'd been told to wear that morning.

I tried to, but could not ignore the honking horns as I retrieved the newspaper and turned back to the house. There are not enough trees to obscure me from my neighbors or the road. Being naked in bondage on the covers of magazines did not bother me nearly as much as mincing along the driveway of my own house looking like and dressed as I was.

I canceled all thoughts that retrieving the newspapers and the mail were not going to be on my list of daily chores. Sherri would also decide that the maid would do at least part of the shopping. I dreaded the first time I'd be told to do that.

After serving breakfast, Sherri told me to go upstairs, make up their rooms and clean the bathrooms. "The entire house needs to be dusted, vacuumed and all the plants watered, Marci. That should be sufficient to keep you occupied today. Should you finish, I'm sure that there is laundry and the silver could use polishing." I sighed and curtseyed to Sherri. Words were unnecessary.

Roger and Pamela had left right after their breakfast and Sherri went out mid-morning to do the shopping, reminding me that I was expected to work on my assigned chores while I was left alone.

"I will check that you've accomplished things when I get back, Marci. Assure that I find you have." Sherri did not threaten punishment, but I knew that she was fully capable of administering it. I also knew that she, more so than the others, was taking her newly assigned job quite seriously.

Sherri did check on what I had accomplished during the four hours she was gone as I put away all she had brought back from the stores.

"At four, go change into a black uniform, Marci. I want black in the evenings and light colors for your day uniforms. Wear your white boots for day with white latex stockings that I packed for you."

"Yes, Sherri."

"I think you should stop using my name, but address me in a more servile manner. I'd prefer, 'mum'."

"Yes, mum." I curtseyed and got a smile from Sherri.

"Better. Keep busy until time to serve this evening."

"Marci, over the next several days, Pamela will be installing the new cameras and we'll be making some alterations in your quarters. I'd like these to be a surprise for you." We were in the basement after I finished my chores in the kitchen. Roger had decided to use parts of it as a studio. "When that's all finished, I'd like to get this project fully underway. Sherri is going to get working on the script."

"OK. How can I help set things up, Rog'?" I wasn't thinking that anything else was being planned.

"By staying out of the way - here." Roger's intentions were becoming clear.

"You are going to keep me prisoner in my own basement!" I made it a statement. I did not need confirmation. If Roger was intent on doing this to me, other than argue with him, I was not going to be able to stop him. In a physical match I was no contest against his toned, six foot frame before what my suit had done to me and now I was even less so.

"What are you going to do to me?



--- PAMELA ---


The first night I'd spent together with Roger had been so totally unlike any other in my life that I'll always remember it for that reason alone. I had been very upset and anxious about being with a man. I never had any desire to share my body with a man or for theirs. It was scary.

When we left the studio I feared what might happen and what I would have to do to pay for the meal and ride home. That he owned a van with widely separated seats and a console between them had been a tremendous relief. I was so thankful to discover that there was no way for me to sit close to him.

I think it was while he was in the Chinese restaurant that I first noticed the sensations start in my nipples and in the exposed sex that had formed between the rods that pass between my legs. Rather hard to fully describe, as they were unlike any I'd experienced before. The nipples protruding from my breasts seemed to grow longer, thicker and harder. Though they didn't visibly move, it felt like they were being gently rubbed.

As my sensations in the two protuberances continued, I began to feel the same ones start in the clitoris at the top juncture of the rods. I wanted these to intensify - all of them. I wanted to touch myself and rub hard.

Only when I saw Roger did the rubbing feelings stop. I became apprehensive again. They resumed when he turned in to the store lot for his beer, at an intensified rate, which subsided as I volunteered to go into the store by myself.

Really strange and alien thoughts entered my mind when Roger had helped me out. I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted to be close to him and when I did, my large breasts and crotch developed a very satisfied feeling.

All the sensations were there throughout our evening together. At bedtime I became strongly motivated to have Roger, a man, share my bed and make love to me as a woman.

To say that lying on the middle of my bed on my back with my legs spread was pleasurable in itself would be an understatement. I wanted him!

I was no expert at satisfying a woman, Marci would tell you that, if she gave an honest answer. Now - I think she faked it and told little lies to make a male ego feel better. Roger was great, beginning slow - fondling my breasts. When his lips took the place of his fingers on my nipples and those fingers moved to my sex I began to writhe.

I had experienced, twice, what a terrific feeling an intense female orgasm was like before Roger tried to enter me.

"Stop! Stop!" I was screaming in pain. No, the pain was not from his hard rod popping my cherry. The rods on either side of my nether lips had moved together like the jaws of a vise as soon as his oozing head had made contact.

"It hurts. It hurts, Roger! Please, please make it stop?" I was writhing now for very opposite reasons than my pleasure. The pain was intense and unrelenting.

"Pam, talk to me. What's wrong?" Obvious concern was in his voice and on his face. Only when he got off of me did the rods spread and the pain subside gradually.


Sharing Marci's bed we had agreed, before we even cuddled, that we would not try intercourse that night. Though I feared that my suit had other ways of torturing me if it did not like what we attempted, I told Roger that I wanted to experiment to find some way to bring him the same degree of satisfaction that he was able to give to me with his fingers and mouth.

After he had again brought me to climax the third time that night, I gently pushed him away, though my body wanted still more.

"Lie on your back and let me try something, luv'." While he looked puzzled, Roger did as I asked and let me position him. I was afraid. I was not afraid that I was having sex with a man - that crap had been completely erased from my mind the first time. I was afraid that, in some way, my suit was going to punish me like it had when Roger had tried to place his dick into my pussy.

Beginning with gentle kisses, I hesitantly parted my lips and extended my coated tongue to lick his love pole. Nothing bad happened to me. Roger knew what had happened the previous time - he just lay still and let me proceed at my own rate, guessing that if I jerked away that the damned suit found something else that was unacceptable.

Soon I had him enveloped and was searching to find his hands. When I did, I moved them to my head and squeezed his fingers to grip my hair. I wanted Roger to use me, to pleasure himself in my mouth. When I worked my hands under his cheeks and pinched as hard as I could, is when the rest of Roger came into play, not just his hot organ.

I felt great, my pleasure started when his strong hands began to move my head up and down as I sucked and licked, then he exploded, moaning with his own orgasm.



--- MARCI ---


My house had a wine cellar that was at the end of the a short tunnel beyond the foundation wall. I guess that when I was occupied doing chores upstairs, Roger, with or without help, had cleared everything out of the wine cellar. This was going to be my cell.

"Roger, I don't like this and I did not agree to this." Roger had three fingers through my collar ring and led me to the tunnel door which he was unlocking.

"I understand, Marci. Still I want you out of sight and not to interfere with what is going on for a few days. End of discussion." He did not jerk or tug me as I was guided through the tunnel and Roger went slowly because of the short mining steps I was forced to take en-pointe. At the end of the tunnel a barred door could be closed to keep me inside the small, stone lined room.

When he turned on the lights inside the wine cellar, I saw the other preparations that had been made.

"Is all of this really necessary, Roger?" I sat on the thick rubber mat that had been placed inside as my bed. A heavy chain fastened to a ringbolt in the back wall was already locked to my collar ring and a spreader locked between my wrists. "Come on, Roger. The barred door and the other door to the basement are more than enough. All the rest of this is gross overkill.

Roger acted like he did not hear me, probably he just did not have an acceptable explanation as to why a spreader with a heavy iron ball chained to the center of the bar was being locked between my ankles. After double-checking that the cuffs and other locks were secure, he went out, closed the barred door and locked it.

"One bucket is your water, the other for your waste, Marci. Sherri will assure you are fed. I'll leave the lights on for now. They are hooked to a timer that will shut them off after one hour. Expect them to remain off until someone turns them on again." I watched Roger walk away, not looking back. The outer door closed and was locked then nothing but total silence.

My wine cellar, now my cell, was an underground room, twelve-foot square with walls and floor of stone and a ten-foot ceiling made of concrete. I had the two buckets and the rubber mat, nothing else occupied the cell except me.

Before the lights went out, I stood to examine my confinement discovering walking with a twenty inch spreader bar while wearing ballet boots was anything but easy, especially dragging a fifty pound ball behind. The chain between my collar and the corner furthest from the barred door did not let me reach the door. I'd never be able to touch the lock, nor stick my hands through to insert the key if it were handed to me. Any possible escape, as I saw it, was impossible.

I had no way of knowing how long I sat in total darkness before going to sleep nor how long I was awake before I heard the outer door being unlocked.

"It's me, Marci." I was so happy to hear Sherri's voice and her footsteps approach me in the tunnel. "I'm going to have to feel for the light switch. Better close your eyes before I turn them on, Marci." She smiled at me when I was able to focus.

"How are you holding up, Marci?"

"Best I can. You might guess it's pretty lonely and boring in here, Sherri. How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"I can't say. I don't know all that's being done. Pamela, Roger and two contractors are pretty busy."

"Can you tell me how long I've been here?"

"I'm sorry, Marci. Roger ordered me not to.

"Here, I brought your food and two fresh buckets. Push your others close to the door then go back to your corner." I was chained there and knew I'd not escape if I tried. Slowly I dragged the ball to the far corner and stood there. "You have to turn around and face it. Sorry." Sherri unlocked the door and I heard it lock not more than a half minute later.

"Marci, I had no part it this. I want you to believe me. I'll be back when I'm allowed to." As her footsteps retreated and the outer door closed and locked, I wanted to cry.



--- PAMELA ---


Roger and I worked to replace Marci's TV security systems with much higher quality cameras and full motion recorders. The plan was that there would be no place in the entire house that Marci could not be recorded on camera. He had Sherri already begin working on setting up a Website for Marci so that subscribers could see her anytime they wanted to.

Of course a certain amount of our own privacy would be sacrificed, but nothing like Marci's. She was going to be fitted with an electronic device so that only the cameras that she was in view of would be active and have their signals sent to the recorders and Web server. Roger and I would be equipped so that we could turn off any cameras that we wished, remotely and with wall switches for those in our rooms.

We had agreed that neither Sherri nor Marci would be told of the systems finer points. Marci was not to be told about her Website either.

Roger had hired two contractors to do the modifications to Marci's rooms. When John and Ricky were in the house, I confined myself to the upstairs working on all the electronics. We had decided that they simply did not need to see me or interact with me.

While that was valid in the house, I gained confidence going out with Roger, even in daylight. Having him by my side even gave me enough confidence, after other exposure in public, to go shopping for some of the things we needed at the place Peter had been employed, up until just a very short time ago.



--- MARCI ---


I was kept in the dungeon with minimal contact with even Sherri for eight days. She would bring me several plastic food containers, usually one of cereal and two or three of left overs from their meals. Each time I was told to stand in the corner and face it. I was to do this before she would turn on the lights and was told not to turn around while Sherri exchanged the buckets, placed the food containers and removed the empties.

In and out, a minute or two at the very most, with almost no conversation between us. Quickly, I had lost complete track of time.

"Stand still, Marci. You're getting out of here." I was blindfolded before she unlocked my bondage replacing the two spreader bars with cuffs. The ones on my wrists confided them behind my back. I was led out on my leash, not to the house, but to the garage and placed in one of the cars.

"You can talk with me, Marci. I just can't tell you where you are going or what's been going on." Sherri was still with me, driving. That she was there made me feel just a bit better.

"Why was I kept locked up so long?'' I wasn't bitter, it was over. I just wanted to know.

"They were doing a lot of work, the new TV cameras mostly and wanted not to worry about you or have you in the way, that's all."

"Hell, Sherri, I've seen cameras before. It's what I do for a living." She was stopping her car.

"OK, Marci, just relax you are in my house on familiar territory." Sherri removed my coat, blindfold and handcuffs, but left the cuffs connecting my ankles with their twelve-inch chain. "Relax and go freshen up while I fix us something to eat."

I did what she had suggested, feeling better inside knowing that I was clean outside again. In a way, it was good that I couldn't smell how dirty I must be, but I'd have exchanged that if given a choice. Lying on the bed in the guest room I'd used before, was a simple black latex dress. Even though I was completely encased in the suit, I felt better that my huge breasts, fat ass cheeks and obscenely protruding sex were not in full view.

"What's the drill, Sherri?' She was at the stove when I entered her kitchen.

"We get to spend the night together, get to play - if you want, Marci. Pam and Rog' will be here in the morning, very early if you can believe that."

"Roger, very early? What's his definition of that eight-thirty? Right, Sherri."

"He said five, Marci'."

"Right." I glanced at the clock, it was six in the evening. "If he thinks I'm getting up at four to be ready to model, call him now and tell him to sleep four more hours." I sat at the kitchen table with a big glass of water. Little else in Sherri's refrigerator was worth drinking without being able to enjoy the taste.

"I'm serious." She placed a steaming plate before me and sat with one for herself. "The plan is to be here all set up when you do wake up. Rog' wants the real thing on tape and film.

"You get up, do your morning things, like things were perfectly normal, only you look like you do. Go get the paper, read it with your coffee, find the ad for the maid's job and apply on the phone - getting a time for an interview, etc."

"Whatever. Wait - that came out wrong. Sounds fine. I'll be in the mood come morning - promise, Sherri."

"I know, you always come through. You are the tops, Marci."

After I helped Sherri clean up the kitchen, she took me to my room in her house. "We'll play here OK. My bedroom has been redecorated for the shoot and the equipment is set up. You get to sleep there tonight.

"I don't think you'll object to playing in here, will you?" Sherri was holding my shoulders, staring intently and wanting me to say I wanted to play.

"After all the time in my dungeon - understand it was pretty lonely - I'd play there if that was my option. Here is fine." I tried, but I knew Sherri couldn't see it on my face.

We wasted no time in stripping each other.

"You won't mind if I keep my boots on, Sherri? My feet really hurt if I try to stand without them anymore. I need the support."

"I don't mind. I always told you that they look sexy and many refer to heels like yours as bedroom shoes. Sure, keep them on."

She helped me under the covers and climbed in after turning out the light.


"Wake up sleepy head." Sherri was shaking my breast, her favorite way to awaken me when we slept together.

"Let me sleep, it can't be time to get up, luv'. I just fell asleep."

"You did. That's why it's time to go in the other bed. Come on up." Sherri pulled me out of bed and pushed me into the bathroom.

"Bend so I can pull your plugs, empty out and I'll clean you up." As I came awake on the toilet, I realized that Sherri was fully dressed again. Sherri wasn't into latex, but looked great whenever she wore it. She'd on a long black maid's uniform with the requisite white trim and accessories.

"What's with your costume?"

"Your maid will put you to bed. I'll get you dressed here, go turn on the cameras then take you in the bedroom.

"Marci, please don't laugh, I've got a speaking part and it is pretty corny?"

"I'll try hard not to."

I was dressed in an almost normal, beige wool suit with a white blouse, necktie, stockings and ankle strap, seven and a half inch pumps. Sherri had even laced a white corset on me and somewhere found a lacy white bra to fit.

"Here's the script. It's not written, just ad lib if you need to. Marci comes home after a long hard day looking for a job." I interrupted with a giggle.

"Right, in this skirt and these heels guess I had interviews for the executive wing, whore? Sorry - couldn't resist."

"Whatever." Sherri smiled and went on. "You call for me as you go to your room, my bedroom. For the shoot, my name is now Elsa. I come in, you bitch and moan about no jobs, etc. As I said, ad-lib.

"Ask me to put you to bed and express hopes that something will come up in the morning, etc.

"There's a really pretty nightie for you. I tend you, put you to bed and fade until morning. The video cams will be rolling the entire time. We start outside when you are ready, Marci."

"I'm not going to walk in these shoes as well as I do now in my toe boots, Sherri."

"That's OK. You had a long hard day and they are killing you. Complain for the cameras if you want. Ready?"

Sherri helped me outside to my own car parked at the end of the driveway. I was handed my big black purse and car keys. About to ask about them, Sherri crouched and removed my ankle cuffs that had remained on me.

"I was told to use my judgment about those. Don't ask now." She placed the cuffs in my purse.

"Give me a couple of minutes to get all the lights and cameras on. Drive to the garage, park and get out. You'll need to use the key to open the door after you ring and I don't open it for you. Go in and call for 'Elsa'. Don't wait, but go to my bedroom. I'll be there shortly. Act annoyed at me."

I saw Sherri turn on a lot of camera lights outside as well as the tripod mounted video cams, before going inside and closing the door. After waiting a few minutes I drove my car up to the garage door and parked.

I've enough experience to know just what the readers and buyers want. I exited with lots of leg and a sexy display of my heels. In the bright lights I couldn't tell where Roger had placed the cameras, so I played it in general, as if putting on a show for a crowd.

Sherri's bedroom had been modern stark before, now it was ultra feminine - complete with a frilly, ruffled canopy bed, in latex no less. Roger was not sparing expenses on this, that was for certain.

'Elsa' (Sherri) surprised me. I was totally unprepared to see her head encased in a full-faced latex helmet. By her distended jaw and the slight bulge it was evident that she had a very big gag stuffed in her mouth beneath the rubber. I wondered if we were really alone in her house. In addition to her helmet, Elsa was locked in a set of very constraining, working chains. The five inch pumps she'd previously had on were now six inch, button topped boots.

I worked through a set of lines that I made up as I went along. The feeling of others being there was strong the entire time. I bitched about everything especially not finding a job as Elsa undressed me, taking her time (not that her restraints permitted her to hurry) putting away everything I'd been wearing.

When 'naked', she guided me to the bathroom and sat me on the toilet after pulling my two plugs. Without any control, of course, I peed.

Replugged, Elsa guided me back in 'my' bedroom. Sitting on the bed, the nightie that I was put into was absolutely ridiculous!

It was a fuchsia and white latex baby doll, of sorts. So full with the fused in, huge petticoats, I wondered if I could begin to sleep in it. Once on, with the built in bonnet covering my head, Elsa handed me a full baby bottle, moving the nipple to my lips to suck as she knelt to lace on white ballet boots.

Oh well. If this is what Roger thought was going to sell, I was too tired to worry about it. Elsa tucked me between the black latex sheets and covered me with a white leather blanket. Once she did the straps down the side of this and buckled the straps, I knew I was staying in bed until she released me.

The damn old fashioned alarm clock wakened me at six. Surprise, surprise, Roger and Pamela were both there and Roger started to direct his sleepy model - me!

"Rub your eyes, Marci. Rub the sleep away and shut off the alarm." It ran out before I reached it. Elsa entered, dressed as the night before and still gagged, to release me from my bed. "Marci, get up. Just sit on your bed and your maid will take off your nightie. You'll go in the bathroom, but leave the door open. Pose so the cameras see you pull out your plugs then sit on the toilet.

"Elsa will start your bath, but I want you to bathe yourself." I did as he instructed and positioned my feet so Elsa could put on a foot show when unlacing my boots. They'd go back on when she came in to dry me.

With me covered by a short, see-through rubber robe, the action moved downstairs.

"Go out and get your morning newspaper." Roger directed.

"Roger, you want me to go out, leaving the door open. Should I wait on the porch so you can go out and catch me walking toward the camera?" My mind was in its modeling mode and I was thinking of nothing other than posing for the cameras, cognizant of the angles, lighting etc. All other thoughts were locked away.

We continued as I sipped from a cup, read the want ads and circled one. I called and pretended to make an appointment for the interview. Roger decided that since it was an interview for a maid's position I should wear one of my uniforms. I argued for a dress or suit, but lost.

After Elsa dressed me in a very abbreviated black and white French styled uniforms, I was to drive to my house for the interview. I helped Sherri change. Indeed her gag was huge.

"Bastard! Roger put me in this damn uniform last night and I've been in it since, Marci. I don't know why you like wearing this damned latex stuff so much." I kept refilling her water glass as I removed everything and didn't offer comment that she never has gotten in touch with latex clothing.



--- PAMELA ---


Marci continues to amaze me with the way she accepts things. Once we had discovered that these suits were permanent and what they were doing to change us, Marci just pressed forward and accepted it, even though the changes to her were far greater than to me, sex change aside.

Well - perhaps I shouldn't set it aside and perhaps that's a key to Marci's positive attitude. I never thought of myself having sex with a guy, it was abhorrent for me. I'm not a bigoted homophobic, it just wasn't my thing and I'd no problem if it is yours. Now, as Pamela - I've discovered that sex with Roger is far better than any sex Peter ever had, even sex with a doll like Marci.

I digress.

I rode with Roger as he drove to Marci's house to set up for her arrival there. Sherri was riding with Marci, I never realized until I became Pamela and saw her with Sherri that Marci's orientation was toward other attractive girls. She's told me in no uncertain terms that she has no use for guys in a sexual way any longer. Marci's suit did not do a thing to change her there.

With Sherri now helping Roger and me with the cameras and lights, we set up quickly to capture Marci's arrival for her job interview.

"OK. Marci take a break while Sherri helps Pam get into her 'Mistress of the Manor' mode." Roger asked Marci not to go to her quarters when she said she was going to be there and to call her when all were ready again.

"Marci, we redecorated for you and want it to be a surprise." Roger explained and she just accepted.

In 'my' bedroom, Sherri changed me into a nice black leather suit with a white blouse of silk, very classy looking. They had gotten me flesh colored tights so that my black legs are hidden and my shapely feminine legs look real under the stockings. Marci had pairs of these waiting for her use as needed.

"I think you'll look better with your hair up, Pam. OK?"

"Do what you think best, remember I'm more than a bit new to this, Sherri."

"You feel confident with your lines?" Sherri was pinning my long hair up on top of my head with a fall in back to below my collar.

"Yes. You've been a big help there. Sherri - maybe a silly question - how come we don't have any script for Marci? She is the star of this. I'm just a supporting actor." Quickly I corrected myself, old habits die hard. "actress."

"Couple of reasons. We tried them in her first video and Marci did terrible. It was toward the end, when Marci threw a fit and tore up her script. She said that it was too phony to be believed. That's when, even for her still shot work, she and Roger agreed to make it as real for her as possible. It was a mutual thing between them.

"This is as real, today, as we can make it. Young, out of work girl goes for a job interview. How much script does any real person have for really doing that. You are completely on your own in a strange environment talking to strangers trying to convince them to hire you." Sherri worked a few more minutes with my hair before pronouncing me ready.

"Sherri, you said Marci doesn't have a script for a 'couple of reasons'. You only told me one?"

"Marci performs at her best when we stress her. You only worked with her in front of the cameras once, Pam. I'll bet you thought that Marci made what you thought difficult seem like child's play for her. She's a real pro, one of the best in the business. She does her very best when we really push and make it harder. Trust me.

"Marci earns her obscenely high pay."



--- MARCI ---


I put my mind to the job again, thinking how I wanted to play this. Roger had me pull my car out onto the street and wait for his signal. One there, he just waved. I drove away, made a Uie and reapproached the entrance to my drive then pulled up slowly.

Roger was working the cameras with Sherri. From the silly little girl's white purse I took out a compact, pretended to check my makeup, touch up my lips and brush my horrid red hair into place. I hated this hair, but couldn't change back.

Making a big show of it, with my legs and ballet boots, I exited my car and primped my uniform, smoothing my dress, fluffing the white petticoats, straightening the apron and tugging it to show how my erect nipples contoured the shiny latex. I even shook the bell on my collar - I hated this too. I couldn't move without ringing it.

Glancing at the 'directions' I'd written as I had 'talked' on the phone to arrange for the interview, I tucked them in the little white purse.

Roger wanted me to walk on the path around the to back of the house and use the 'servants' entrance, not the front door. Several times I paused to allow him to set up new camera angles. From previous video shoots, I knew he'd use almost a hundred hours of tape for a one-hour production. Still shoots had almost a four hundred to one ratio to find just the right ones for publication. This one promised that it was going to consume a lot more tape and film.

After a long wait, Pamela opened the door. I curtseyed and Roger called cut.

"Take a break, Marci."

I really did not need a break yet. It was necessary to gather up all of the gear outside and relocate most of it in the house. No, I did not offer to help. When I had in the past, I'd gotten it wrong anyway. Roger knew to conserve my energy to perform before the cameras, not moving them about. He told Pamela the same when she started to help.

Strangely, Pamela kept herself distant from me. More than her physical appearance had changed since the first time we met wearing our suits. Pamela was no longer the terrified little girl that had been a man just a short time before.



--- PAMELA ---


We worked several minutes at the door exchanging introductions.

"You might have a small potential to be a maid. Come in." I stepped aside to hear Roger call 'Cut'.

"From the top girls. Pam, you need to speak up and put a lot more rich bitch in your part.


We had to retake this four times until he was satisfied. Before the last one, Sherri called, "Ad lib, Pam!"

"Come in, you little slut!" Roger liked that.

The den had been set up as an office to do the interview. I sat behind the desk and was surprised to see Marci actually flop into a chair opposite. She bounced a few times like a little child.

"Hey this is a really neat place ya' gots here. I'm goin' like this. Real class." OK, she was acting.

"Get your ass up, girl! The maid does not go cluttering the furniture with her butt. How do I know you even wipe it? Up!"

"OK. I'm up." Standing with her head lowered, Marci traced circles with her toe for a few seconds. "I'm sorry, Miss." I'd all I could do not to laugh. I interviewed Marci for close to an hour, being as tough as I could with my questioning. Continuously I had to keep reminding myself not to giggle or to burst out laughing at the answers she gave and the way she acted.

"All right then, I'll offer you the job on a probationary basis, Marci."

"Oh, thank you ma'am. I'm ever so grateful, you don't know how important this is to me and how very happy you've made me." Marci started to bounce up and down on her toes, setting her huge breasts bouncing and her bell ringing merrily.

"Simmer down and stand still, now!" She did stop bouncing.

"As a probationary maid, you will be on call twenty-four hours a day, seven days per week and on duty at least ten hours a day. During your duty time, you are required to be properly uniformed, groomed and working." I paused to give her time to digest that before continuing. "Your pay is five-fifty an hour from which your uniforms, room and board will be deducted.

"Is this clear, Marci?"

"Oh yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

"Should, for any reason, we find you less than pleasing, you will be punished." I moved a contract toward her to sign, which Marci did without reading (I'd not read it either, figuring it was just show for the cameras). Marci signed it and I signed with my new name.

"Very well." I stood. "Come, I'll introduce you to Sherri, my housekeeper."

"Cut. Very good, both of you. Marci, take a break while we move things around."



--- MARCI ---


Pamela escorted me to the kitchen where we found Sherri. She had a new and much cuter uniform. Very surprising to me was that Sherri was fitted with a life-like helmet to give her a similar artificial look to ours. Sherri's new face though, was as different as Pamela's and mine now were. Of the three of us, I was the most artificial by far.

"Sherri this is Marci, the girl that called earlier that I told you about. I've taken her on as a twenty-four, seven, probationary maid.

"Marci, this is Sherri my housekeeper. Sherri will assure that you understand all of what will be required. You will obey her." Pamela moved to the doorway as I curtseyed.

"Do assure the girl is made fully aware of what standards are required and her status now, Sherri." I was just beginning to suspect that something more than Roger's pictures and video were happening in my house.

"Yes, ma'am." Even Sherri was curtseying.

"Get her in proper uniform and put her to work, Sherri."

"Yes, ma'am." Pamela left and I turned to curtsey to Sherri.

"Come along, Marci, I'll show you your quarters."

I'd been told that the rooms had been redecorated while I was locked in my dungeon. Redecorated was an understatement, starting with the door off the hallway. This was now steel with all of the hardware, one-way observation panel, etc. befitting a prison. Sherri unlocked it and pulled it open.

The laundry room was about the same, with the addition of my sewing center on the opposite wall. The biggest change was in the bedroom. Its door was now steel bars and bars had been installed inside the windows. To prevent me from seeing out or anyone peeking in, all the glazing had been replaced with frosted wire glass.

"This looks like a prison cell now, Sherri." I was annoyed seeing the steel cot in the middle of the room and noting it was now bolted to the floor. That wasn't all - open cuffs for hands and ankles were chained to each corner and a chain was connected to the center of the headboard.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"This wasn't my idea, Marci."

"Seems I've heard that before. Want to tell me what this is all about, Sherri?"

"The story line has you in the part of a slave. That's all." She helped me out of the black uniform I had been wearing. Sherri did something in back of my permanent collar, but I really didn't give the collar any thought.

"What's with the chains, Sherri?" She approached me with cuffs for both my wrists and ankles and a central chain that would run from my collar ring to the connecting chain between my ankles.

"Part of the maid's required uniform. I'm afraid you'll have to wear them most of the time, Marci." I just sighed, enough was enough. Meekly, I extended my hands for the wrist cuffs.

These were not regular handcuffs. Of thick chrome plated metal, the weight of these belied the size of the bands. I guess they must be aluminum and not steel. I've been told they are actually titanium. Sherri mated the hinged halves and pushed a separate pin in from the edge of the joint. It clicked before she withdrew the tool to do the other cuff.

"How do you unlock these, Sherri?" I saw no keyhole. The hinge and joint were nearly invisible.

"You don't. Don't ask silly questions. I just told you, you'll be wearing them most of the time." My ankles received a similar pair. A chain of twelve inches long connected those and my hands by a similar length that had a center ring free to slide up and down on the vertical chain from center ankle chain to my collar ring.

Someone, probably Roger, was thoughtful enough to fit the ring with a bell like the one on my collar ring, as was the center of my ankle chain. I have come to really hate these annoying bells. I can't move without making noise!

The uniform that Sherri dressed me in was of pale gray latex with a mass of white petticoats filling its ridiculously abbreviated skirt. I'd learn that most all of my new wardrobe had been made to close with two side zippers from hem to sleeve cuffs so they could be put on and taken off with no need to remove my working chain set.

"Gray uniform with white boots for days. Change to black with black boots after four in the afternoon." A white headpiece completed my uniform.

"Here is a list of chores, get to work, Marci."



--- PAMELA ---


"How's the video looking, Rog'?" I entered the control room that we'd assembled to tape Marci. Roger was watching the monitors there.

"The device Sherri placed on Marci's collar seems to be working as advertised, Pam." He pointed to one of the monitors showing Marci slowly going up the stairs. The camera moved to keep her image centered on the display.

"Shouldn't the camera in the upstairs hall be picking her up too, by now, Pam?" Roger pointed to an adjacent screen that was displaying the hall, but pointed in the opposite direction.

"Yes, I'll need to check it. Could be anything. You didn't give me a chance, like I asked, to move around and test everything before the homing unit was fitted to Marci, Rog'."

"How many times are you going to remind me of that?"

"Well, you didn't!" Roger just gave me an annoyed glare and turned back to the display.

"At least the bedroom one is working.

"How are you coming with the Streaming Video for her site?" Roger reminded me that it was my job to get all of her site on-line. I did have an answer for him.

"Marci's site is up and I've been debugging it, Roger.

"We are waiting for our server to get their end straight and the pay-for-view account to clear with the credit card companies. American Express is up, but not Visa, MasterCard, Discover or EuroCard yet, Rog'." Roger turned his attention to the monitors to watch Marci begin to make up our bed.

"Rog', do you really think people are going to pay thirty bucks a months to look at a rubber slave like Marci?"

"Yup. There are plenty out there who are paying that to see far less. Don't forget Pam, you are going to be before the cameras a lot too. Just like Marci - you can never tell which cameras are sending out your image to the Web too."

"You had to remind me." Still, I had to laugh about it. I was confident that the device I carried could disable any camera at anytime. In fact, it no longer functioned - Roger had seen to that early on.

It was not so much that he was deceiving and taking advantage of his rubber bedmate - me, Roger just wanted total control now that it was available and he wanted to maximize the returns on the not inconsiderable investment he had made in promoting Marci. Offering up Pamela to the public was just a further incitement to the suckers who would be providing for his retirement.



--- MARCI ---


I soon hated being chained as I was. The one bell that had originally come with the collar to my suit was bad enough, now I'd been fitted with two more - there was no way that I could control all three to quiet them.

The chores that Sherri has assigned were simple and straight forward housework: make up the bedrooms, clean the bathrooms, change the linens, straighten, dust, vacuum then move downstairs with the laundry and start it in the washing machine. Straightforward and simple if the maid was not severely constricted by an ultra-tight and stiff corset, wearing ballet boots and now wearing very restrictive, working chains!

To just make Pamela and Roger's bed took me nearly a half hour. I tried to do it standing, but was unable to bend forward to reach the mattress. I tried to crouch, just bending my knees. I was able then to pull on the sheet to smooth it into place, but when I moved to the side in order to grasp another handful I started to loose my precarious balance.

Moving my right foot quickly, to maintain stability, the ankle chain snapped tight and denied that move. I fell hard on my fat ass - unable to put my hands out and break the fall - they were chained preventing that maneuver too. I finished doing the bed on my knees, crawling around it until I had it made-up.

I knew, well enough, that cleaning the bathroom properly included not leaving any water droplets anywhere. When I knelt in the tub to clean it, I discovered that my uniform was going to be another hindrance. The full, latex petticoats that fluffed the short skirt nearly horizontal prevented me from seeing everywhere that I wanted and needed to. Combine this with my eyes being unmoving and limiting my vision to only straight ahead of where my head pointed - well you can imagine I can't see that well any longer.

I was doing Sherri's bathroom when she came up to check on my progress - sitting on the rim wiping the faucets and spigot.

"Three and a half hours and this is all you have accomplished!" Sherri was doing a good job of feigning her anger - or was she faking it? "Stand up, girl!" I did so and curtseyed.

"Sherri, I'm doing the best that I can. These damn chains," I raised my hands and shook them, causing the bell to ring loudly. "are too fucking short to do anything fast."

"Silence! You are earning yourself a lot of punishment, girl!" Sherri turned from the small bathroom. "Come, Marci. We do not wish to delay your punishment until you have earned so much that it will take forever to be worked off." Wisely I kept quiet and followed her to the basement.

Roger and crew had been very busy while I was kept in my dungeon cell. My playroom had been converted into a completely different sort of playroom. It was now a modern torture chamber, fully equipped with Roger's concept of what a B&D dungeon should have.

"As this is your first day on the job, Marci, I can see that you need motivation to do your chores in a timely fashion." Sherri pulled me by the collar chain to a wall filled with gags of all types. "Open." The gag she selected for me was an inflatable plug. I saw nothing to be gained by arguing or resisting. If Sherri were intent on gagging me then I would be gagged.

"That is for arguing with me and complaining about your chains, Marci." I was next fitted with a gas mask that had two hoses dangling in front.

"Over here." Fixed to the floor was what I call a 'bend over pillory' - a set of stocks to trap the victim's ankles and wrists at the same level. It would keep me bent over until released. Sherri clamped my ankles then pulled the chain to force me down.

"Straighten your knees! No bending them!" The corset constriction of my suit protested and I protested around the gag in my mouth. "OK. I'll just fix you so you'll want to keep your legs straight, since it is obvious that you are not motivated to do so now."

The motivation to keep my legs straight was in the form of clamps affixed to my protruding lips and connected to a hoist in the ceiling. Yes, as Sherri tightened the cable running up between my cheeks, I wanted to keep my legs as straight as she desired them.

"I've had to talk to you once about sitting when you are on duty. I saw that just talking does not penetrate that little maid's brain of yours, Marci." I'd no idea what it was she used to inflict the first painful welt on my upraised ass. "This will provide you a degree of motivation not to be sitting when I have told you to work."

"You are going to receive fifty now and another twenty from the cane each morning to remind you of the orders you have been given. If that proves to be insufficient motivation, Marci, then the number will be doubled until you are properly motivated."

Before she was halfway through, Sherri became tired of hearing my screams. She paused in her steady rhythm long enough to over inflate the gag in my mouth. My jaws hurt almost as much as my smarting ass before she stopped pumping.

It was hours later, I don't know how many, before I was finally released to be punished more.

"Let's see if you want to sit now, Marci." Sherri pulled me over to a rigidly constructed chair. The thought of sitting in a normal chair was bad enough, but this one was horrifying. The seat on this was a surface of closely placed pyramids. Roughly, she trust me back and down. I had no strength to resist.

Like a chair in a beauty salon, the chair could be raised by stepping on a foot pedal until my toes and heels were clear of the floor. Sherri quickly clamped my ankles to the tubes in front and my collar to the back of the chair. Only held to the chair by these three points, I could not lift my butt clear of the seat.

"Now Marci, you can just sit there and think about sitting down on the job."



--- PAMELA ---


"What are we going to do about Marci's e-mail, Rog'? This is just the first week and we've obtained ninety-three subscribers and at last count there are one hundred thirty-two e-mails to her." I sat across from Roger and presented the facts. "So far there have been almost five hundred visitors and the daily number is going up every time I check.

"You sound like there's a problem. What's the problem, Pam?"

"A couple of problems, not just one." I started to explain, but he interrupted me. "The whole idea here is to make money, isn't it? The more visitors, the more people will be induced to subscribe then the more money."

I tried to explain about bandwidth, downloads, number of computers logged on at once and the limitations of our server. The only point that got through to him was that her e-mail needed to be responded to. The other problems were handled just a little differently.

"Pam, none of these, so called, problems are things that can not be dealt with by a few phone calls and checks. Do so. I do not expect to be bothered again with them or you'll find your ass making regular trips downstairs. Is this clear to you?"

"Yes. Now what about Marci's mail?" Roger's attention had returned to the papers on the desk

"It really needs to be answered. Those are fans, in a way. If we want subscribers then we must keep her fans happy." Roger raised his head to stare at me a few moments before he answered.

"Yes - can't ignore her fans. Seems like you have a lot of e-mail to answer then, Pam. I don't want Marci to know anything about her Website - at least not for some time. Sherri has more than enough to keep her occupied tending Marci, doing all of the cooking for us and running the house. That leaves you." Roger's look seemed to challenge me to disagree or argue. In all honesty, I had the least to do, now that all of the electronics and the Internet business were up and running fairly smoothly.

"But - how can I answer some of the questions?"

"Such as?"

"Well, Rog'. How am I supposed to know what it feels like to be whipped and other things like that?" I knew by the grin on his face I should have never asked that question. His response was not what I wanted to hear.

"In the morning, arrange with Sherri for her to give you the exact same punishment that was given to Marci a few weeks ago - on her first day, Pam. Any other questions regarding similar topics I want you to have answered by Sherri in the same fashion." I wanted to blurt out that Roger couldn't be serious, but I'd already concluded that he was.

"I'll see to taking care of the e-mail, Roger." What else could I say?


The punishment that Sherri administered to me was exactly the same as what I'd seen given to Marci on the tapes and posted to her site, including sitting in that chair for twenty-four hours. I knew that it could be worse, but I never wanted to receive anything even close - ever again! I could not sit again, for three days and could not sit comfortably for a week after those!

Marci was receiving twenty cuts on her sensitive bottom after Sherri placed her in the bent over pillory, before being sent to do her chores - every morning! I found I had wanted to cry real tears from the pain, yet couldn't. Marci had told me she wanted to cry many times, but our suits seemed programmed to prevent that - denying us of the comfort, or relief, that a good cry would bring.

When I could finally sit before a computer again, I was far more uncomfortable. Prior to receiving my punishment, my suit had stopped any further corseting constriction of my torso. While it was uncomfortable when first placed in the pillory, it started to constrict me more once I was in position.

I was in considerable pain - both from the posture I was forced to maintain and the tightening of the suit. Gagged, I could not complain about being fitted in a suit I could neither remove nor stop. I was helpless and could nothing to stop it!

The suit is continuing to slowly reduce my waist and crush my chest. Marci's suit did the same for weeks after she first put hers on and seems to have stopped now. It has left her with a perfect pipe-stem waist (as she calls it) that is just thirteen inches around and perfectly straight for a length of nearly six. Marci says it is constant torture and I can begin to appreciate that it is, as my own waist is beginning to achieve a pipestem silhouette also.




--- MARCI ---


Despite the promises I was given when the project started, Roger has turned my existence into living hell. I'm his slave now and see little hope for a reprieve from this.

It is Sherri who sees to the administration of my torments, but I know it is not her motivation to do this. I know that it is Roger and quite probably Pamela too - at least during the first few weeks. I seldom see her now. She has changed.

I am not referring to her change from Peter to Pamela and all of the details to affect that. Pamela's torso has been shrinking in the past few weeks. It has started to reshape Pamela to give her similar lines to those that I now have. With this gradual change, her personality has been shifting.

In the beginning, there was the mental shock of no longer being a male with no possibility of ever going back. Next were the changes evident from accepting that she was Pamela and never again Peter. With that, Pamela was able to begin to enjoy the advantages she now had as a female and experience the joy of sex.

I know that she and Roger sleep together and there is frequent sex enjoyed by both. I do not have to see it before my eyes to know it occurs almost nightly - I'm the maid and my first task each morning is changing the soiled sheets on her bed and making it up.

Lately, with the changes her suit is making to her body now, Pamela's personality is softening. At first she was a bit harsh and mildly sadistic toward me. That is no longer true. No longer does she seem to find pleasure with my discomfort, status and punishments. Pamela has started to seem almost sympathetic to my plight, though she has not offered me any relief from it.

About the only time that I see her and Roger is in the evenings when I serve them before and during dinner. Pamela just ordered me to do things in the beginning, now she asks me, always adding 'please' and 'please, Marci' to her requests. Some of this is rubbing off on Roger and his orders are just beginning to turn into requests also, but not as frequently. Things are a bit better.



--- PAMELA ---


"Rog' hun. Don't you think that we could ease up a bit on Marci? It is starting to really bother me seeing all that she has to put up with." I had to ask. Watching Marci mince delicately on her toes and struggle to do her chores while constantly wearing her chains was really getting to me lately.

"How many subscribers do we have on her site now?" Roger pulled me deeper into his arms, as we snuggled together in my bed.

"My last count was Saturday. It was just under twenty-three hundred. All the equipment has long been paid for and she's providing us with over eight hundred and twenty thousand dollars a year, gross. Deduct all the expenses and we're still pulling in over three quarters of a million just from her site and you have the magazines and videos ready to sell.

"I put them on line this morning so we should be seeing the results of those soon, too. I vote we take her chains off and tell Sherri to stop caning her bottom every morning."

It has been seven months since Marci and I have been changed by the suits we each had put on. I was pushing for some changes and trying to make Marci's lot a bit better and more comfortable. I didn't know how my boyfriend was going to accept the idea, but I wanted to try.

Sherri and I had discussed the same topic earlier that day. I concluded that Sherri was neutral to my suggests.

"I'll neither support you on this, Pam, nor argue to maintain the status quo. If you want anything to change you'll have to convince your lover, not me. Roger treats me very well and I'm not going to do a thing to upset his apple cart. As far as referring to any discussions on this with me. This discussion never occurred."

Sherri was correct, the discussion between us never occurred - to say we discussed it is incorrect. I'd told her what I wanted and outlined where I was heading. That is when Sherri cut me off, stated her position and returned to the kitchen. She had made it clear that I'd be on my own with Roger on this.

"Don't you feel her being in chains day and night and being given her morning beating have gained us subscribers and keeping more of them coming as they spread the word, Pam?"?"

"Maybe the chain's, Rog', but I doubt her being caned is gaining us much at all. I've reviewed the site hits continuously and have them all graphed by different parameters. One of those is the time of day and less than four percent are logged on when Sherri canes her. If they cancel, it's not that big a deal and we're adding new ones at about twenty per month." I had done my homework and given this thought.

"When are most logged on? I assume you have that, Pam?" He began fingering my slit again. I moved to make myself more available before I answered. Roger preferred to take the initiative and lead in our bedroom fun.

"Two times, actually, may even be largely the same group. When Marci changes into her evening uniform and serves then, for whatever reason, when Sherri puts her to bed and does Marci's night chains." I haven't figured the second peak out yet."

"Perhaps it is the chains, Pam. I'm not going to give you any answers now - I'll think on it.

"Right now I'm going to fuck your brains out." Roger roughly rolled me on my back and spread my legs.

Since we had started enjoying sex together - and we both do, Roger liked to use me for his first orgasm with very little or no foreplay. Other than the first time he had tried to penetrate my sex, the rods bordering it had no longer closed and caused me pain if he used me first.. It had been three months before that I invited him to a second time. Invite is the wrong word - I had begged him to screw me! Once he shot that then he would play with me to bring me mine or we would mutually pleasure each other for the second and subsequent ones, if they were to be.

We talked about this - I did not feel it was right. I wanted the foreplay and to feel loved. Though Roger's words did not say it in so many, it was clear that I was 'to be available for his use - first!'

We discovered, in our sexual experiments, that neither of us had a say in this. My damned suit controlled it! If Roger satisfied me in anyway and then tried to penetrate my hot love hole, the rods would painfully come together and cause me a lot of pure pain, only relieved when I worked to bring him to orgasm. Even after that, if he attempted to penetrate me there, during that session of love making, the rods would again come together.

It was by chance that I knelt between his legs and sucked him to a full blown state of ecstasy one evening that we discovered he could enter me where I most wanted him to and satisfy me in doing so. The rods did not draw together that night.

They did not draw together any night until his or my use of my holes and my services satisfied his first orgasm, before I was brought to Pleasure!



--- MARCI ---


"What, Sherri? No caning this morning?" I was more than surprised to not see her cane, even in my cell, when she unchained me one morning.

"If you want me to, but you must ask, I'll give you your usual twenty, Marci. Pamela is up early and instructed that they will no longer be required." Sherri gave a shrug. "I never had it explained to me why they were 'necessary' in the first place."

Sherri, as she did normally, helped me through my full toilette. After I fed on my usual breakfast of juice and cereal with milk, she set me to doing my chores. Another hard day of nothing but exhausting work, made extra difficult by the chains I'd been wearing for months now. Never once had any attempt been offered to remove them.

Another day, just like all of the others, making their beds, cleaning bathrooms, vacuuming, laundry and whatever else needed doing. It had been beaten into me in the first several days that Marci the maid was there to work and for no other real purpose. If I questioned - I was gagged and caned more.

About once a week, seldom more, Roger would do a photo shoot. Scenes of me doing maid things, pictures of Sherri dressing and tending me, ones of her punishing me, Marci serving Pamela, etc. These became boring too. Gone was the excitement I had always felt when modeling.

My existence was without any warmth, love, affection and fun. I was punished and I worked - little else, but to be fed and fall asleep exhausted even before Sherri had closed the last lock to chain me to my cot at night.




"We're here. No more talking for now." On my leash and still wearing the cuffs, I was led inside wherever 'here' was. I wished I could still smell. Just like all sense of taste, my suit had deprived me of that sense too.

It wasn't Sherri who moved close in front of me. Sherri was right beside, still holding my leash. Her hands were small, yet strong, when she fondled first my lips then moved them to my breasts to fondle there. I knew whose hands were touching me! She was very special.

"Hi, Mieko." I dropped a curtsey as I heard her delightful giggles.

"Hi ya, yerseff Marci." I felt her take my leash from Sherri. "You weren't supposed to know.

"Tonight you are going to have a very nice and very special massage." She tugged my leash to guide me to the tub room. "Mieko must keep you cuffs on, not have key - so solly, Miss Marci." At least Mieko did remove my boots before helping me into the hot water.

I was laying on her table an hour later when she began to work on me.

"Mieko, if you want, you may walk my back again. That was good the last time." My little friend slapped my cheek hard.

"Want, like I'm really going to give you choices, Marci. Don't be silly ritter slavegirl rike me. You have no choices, but obedience or punishment. Tonight you not have to worry about being obedient so you won't be punished. You be punished anyway, but - you also going to be pleasured until you are screaming for me to stop, but rear-ry wanting more while you do."

I felt her place the spreader between my booted ankles then hoist me up until only my shoulders and head were still supporting me on the padded table.

"This so ritter Mieko can rorr you over by herseff, Marci." She lifted my shoulders and seemed to flip me over easily. "There you are." My feet were lowered until I was flat on the table.

Mieko began to massage my left breast with her hands and my nipple and aureole with her mouth, continuing this until I was squirming. This was the first time since I'd put this cursed thing on - that anyone had seriously fondled my breasts, including myself. She was soon driving me wild as I helplessly squirmed to get away.

"Stop, Mieko. Please stop?" I began to beg her.

"If I stop pleasuring you then I must punish you, Marci." She had paused only long enough to remove her lips to say that then resumed. Mieko knew her business, she knew exactly how to give a girl pleasure.

I just could not take it any more. It was not enough to bring me off, but enough to keep me riding right on the very edge of the ridge. I started begging and pleading for her to stop. While her fingers continued to keep me on the top, Mieko again spoke.

"Be sure Marci, if I stop pleasuring your big tit, I'll have to punish it instead. I'll continue to please this lovely tit until you beg me to punish it. Then - Mieko will start on your other one. Don't worry Marci, you will be mine until I finish what I was told to do. No one will disturb us." Her lips resumed their attack.

I hated it, I absolutely hated to be driven so wild with pleasure from what she was doing and to be forced to beg my friend to punish me. I can no longer cry tears, but I was still sobbing from frustration when her fingers and lips stopped.

"OK, you asked me nice. I will punish your tit for driving you to it, Marci."

My blindfold was securely in place, I could not see her preparations. Seeing and feeling the results, I'm not sure I would really want to. Mieko encircled the nipple she had recently been sucking to please me with something near its tip. When she pulled on this, of course stretching my nipple and breast, I felt something rigid being forced down with my nipple through its center.

Nothing hurt that much, at first, just being a presence about my nipple and about the base of my aureole. She must have fastened whatever and continued to stretch me to something overhead. Feeling both of Mieko's hands assured that she was no longer pulling on it.

Something hard and wide, a collar-like band wrapped around the base of my breast right next to the wall of my chest. Its tight fit forced Mieko to pull, push and work around my breast until it finally clicked together forming a hard encirclement, smaller around than my breast at that point.

By the time Mieko's attention returned to my nipple and what she had placed there, the area was a bit numb and I could not figure any of what she did for the next several minutes.

"All finished, Marci. While that bad tit is being punished, I will pleasure your other until you beg me to punish it also." Mieko kissed my lips. "If you would prefer, I will skip the pleasure and go right to punishing there, Marci."

"No, no, please don't punish me anymore, Mieko." I begged.


Mieko's pleasurable tongue and nimble fingers continued to drive me to the edge, but never over it, until I begged her to punish my other breast, each of my sensitive nether lips and lastly my clit. She finally pronounced that there would be no more punishments and proceeded to drive me through a series of one orgasm after another, wracking my body with sexual pleasures.

I still wore the cuffs and the blindfold when Sherri took me home. Though I was in pain - more discomfort and soreness than real pain, I was so fatigued, I slept the entire way. Sherri only awakened me to help me into the cot in my room where I quickly fell asleep - again chained and helpless.





As time had progressed, something significant was taking place. It was very gradual, of course, and at first I didn't even notice it. But I found myself craving sex, more and more. Even back when I first started sleeping with Roger, the suit had started 'lighting up' my pleasure centers (as I now called them) - my nipples, my clitoris, my labia, my sphincter and a whole lot more erogenous zones that I'd never known I had. It would light up for awhile and then stop, leaving me yearning for more. I was feeling generally horny, every minute of the day. But it would particularly 'light me up' whenever a man would walk into the room or when I'd see a hunky guy on the television. Despite the fact that I had been solely interested in women before, this was totally supplanting my orientation. What's more, I would 'light up' more intensely and for a longer time at any suggestion of debasement or servicing men.

When I had made a plea for clemency on Marci's behalf, Roger joked that I could always take her place - and I lit up for quite some time. I started to dream about humiliation and servicing others. I was wracked with need. The only problem was that I could not masturbate. The suit saw to that! The first time I'd attempted it, the rods closed tightly and caused me excruciating pain. It also pinched the finger that had been caught in the act.

More recently, I'd tried to masturbate by clenching my legs together and rubbing, but the same painful result was achieved. I was desperate.

At first, Roger was enjoying this, of course. Who wouldn't? A voluptuous body draped around his body, playing, begging, providing endless attentions for him - that's most men's’ dream. But it was becoming intrusive. Roger would become so annoyed with me that he'd push me away and leave me alone for the night.

Once he took me to bed, used me quickly and abruptly and then, after his orgasm, when the rods would allow me my own, he deserted me for the night. I tried to get away with fingering myself at this point, thinking I might be allowed. To my horror, the rods once again clenched my protruding puss. This is why I had made the suggestion to him. I was desperate.

"I have an idea, Rog’, Hun." He was adjusting some of the cameras that morning. "Since the Website has been running, there have been two main concerns that visitors have voiced. One is that things become quiet when everyone turns in to sleep. Viewers want to be able to come in at any hour and find something happening here." He watched me closely, mulling over my comments.

"The second complaint," I continued, "is that there needs to be more sex. Watching chores is fascinating, but a lot of our visitors want a quick thrill, which they feel we don't have often enough."

"Interesting. You have something in mind?" He cocked his eyebrows.

"Roger, this suit is driving me mad. I need it all the time. And you drive me crazy and all, but..., it's just not enough," I pleaded. I didn't want to hurt him nor offend him, but I knew I was going to have to make him understand: my desperation could never be filled by one person. "Rog, honey, if we wanted to move my sleep schedule around and have me entertain guests and the Website visitors during the off-hours, I'll do it. I really need more than what I've got right now." He had stopped his work. I had thought he would become upset or possessive, but his comment made me realize that he was giving the request some thought.

"What do you mean? Where would we get these guests?"

"I don't care. Rent me out, or something. Or advertise to film porn movies. The point is, I need it all the time, now. And I know I'm only distracting you and that you'd never be able to keep up. I really need relief." He stroked his chin for a few moments and it seemed to me that he was almost relishing this turn.

"Well, I don't want you becoming subordinate to Marci or Sherri, it just wouldn't suit what we're doing. But...," he paused, and I could see ideas turning in his eyes "we've never really explained to viewers what you do for a living. You could be a porn queen. Or a high-class prostitute." The suggestion of becoming a whore had a bitter ring to my ears, but my body lit up like crazy. Impulsively, I responded.

"Oh, Rog' honey, that would be fabulous." I knew that slutdom was something I was being pushed toward and although I was uncomfortable with that, I knew that the consequences of resisting were quite painful and the rewards of obeying were pure ecstasy. I have to admit, though, I was a little hurt by Roger's quick agreement to the idea. Maybe I'd secretly hoped he cared enough about me to be possessive. Maybe I hoped he'd vow to fulfill my every need, himself, as impossible as I knew that would be. The thought of multiple partners wasn't exactly enticing - I was still only becoming comfortable with being seen in public, let alone showing myself intimately to strangers. But he didn't protest. In fact, he seemed fond of the idea. Such was our relationship that we served mostly as companions to each other, not quite as intimates.

Rog' went to work right away, making calls to friends and associates, eventually settling on four men and two other women to participate in the making of a porn movie. He'd also arranged to have ads placed offering my services to men in the off-hours. I was filled with an apprehension surpassed only by the tingling and intense need, which spurred me on.




A few days had passed since Pamela began her stint as a porn star. I was flabbergasted at the news and was only then beginning to see how much she had changed. When she explained it all to me, I was dumbfounded at the amount of control that was being exerted over her. Until now, I had felt somewhat abandoned to everyone's whims. Now, I could see that I wasn't alone. But the knowledge of this only made me feel more helpless. If Peter could be changed this radically, what was to happen to me? Significantly, I did not experience a 'lighting up' like Pamela described. Like the material which coated my mouth and deprived me of taste and some sensation of touch, my lower regions were also deprived of sensation. I felt little excitement there, no matter what was done to me. I could feel pain there, surely enough, but stimulation seemed unlikely. Obviously, we would be subject only to whatever sensations our suits had in mind for us.

I rarely saw Pamela at all now, with our sleep schedules no longer coinciding. I only saw Roger for eight hours a day, as well. I went about my chores feeling neglected, aside from Sherri, who was taking a more pro-active role with me. I was thankful that it was her, though - I could trust her. This was the state of things when she pulled me aside one afternoon, leading me by the ring in my collar to her bedroom.

"Do you have any idea how this got here, Marci?" she'd asked. She wasn't angry, only puzzled. On her bed, in a box, was a suit similar to the one I'd found that fateful evening, months ago. There was a note addressed to her, inviting her to 'share a very special bond with your love.' My heart leapt, fitfully.

"You're not going to try it on, are you?" I began to panic a little. I feared for Sherri and wanted to warn her away. Instantly, the collar constricted and I had to choke back my protests.

"Of course not. I'm well aware of how much you've been forced to change, my sweet. I know better than that. Besides, I don't like latex in the same way you do." She studied the box. The suit was shimmering and, unlike ours, it appeared solid, with no transparent regions. It was a chestnut brown in color and I thought she'd look beautiful in it. She must have thought so too, because she added: "Although, from what you've told me, it would probably be okay as long as I don't get wet." My collar was now relaxing around my throat and I tried to picture Sherri and I as two freakish rubber goddesses. Instantly, I felt a little tingling in my nipples and clit. Was this what Pamela had meant by 'lighting up'? It felt good, certainly.

"You..., you could always just try it on," I whispered, growing more excited. Sherri pulled it from the box, looking it over curiously. She was brought up short by the helmet portion. There was a visible zipper built into the lips. She didn't like the looks of that. Abruptly, she thrust it all back into the box.

"I'm not that crazy," she growled. "Besides, that color is just not me. I knew Sherri wasn't particularly racist, but that she did feel intimidated by black people. I didn't know if there was an experience there, which she hadn't told me about or what, but there was a bit of an aversion. I was surprised that it popped up now, though. I was happy to have her put the costume away and never look at it again. But as I turned to leave, the rods of my chastity closed around my nether lips in the same way that Pamela had described. She was right! It was excruciating!

I fell to the floor, clutching my crotch. I would have cried, were it possible. "Marci? Marci, are you alright?" Sherri's voice filtered through the fog.

"Try the suit on," I croaked. "Please? I think it wants me to get you to try the suit on. Hurry! This hurts so much!"

While I writhed, Sherri retrieved the brown latex contraption. "Okay, but I'm not getting it wet. I don't care what happens, I'm only doing this much to relieve your pain." She started fitting her toes into the leggings and my pain eased. As she began to don the garment, she suggested that her maid assist her, which I did without a word. We rolled the latex over her legs, over her hips, over her waist, over her breasts. She fitted the sleeves and I did up the Ziploc-style fastening in the back. My heart was pounding, afraid for Sherri and afraid for me. Aside from her white face, Sherri now looked dark Jamaican black. The skin looked authentic, and beautiful. She stopped there. The rods on my belt started to squeeze my lips again, while she paused.

"The helmet too, Sherri, please?" I begged. Reluctantly, she complied. Soon, that blonde hair was tucked up underneath, leaving a bald mask with slightly Negroid features and dark, burnt almond eyes. I could barely recognize her. After adjustments, the catch was closed in back. She knew then that she had to continue, donning the collar and chastity belt. Her chastity was different from ours in that it shielded her entire crotch. She slipped her fingers along the smooth polished steel of its surface.

"Boy, I don't think I'd be able to feel a thing with this on." She placed it about her waist slowly, locked the bands and the crotch-shield in place then stroked the front, her hand shaking with fear. "No, nothing at all." The rods were beginning to close, again. I began to suspect what they wanted.

"Sherri, you have to take a shower."

"What? No way! I'm not going to end up like this. I'm only doing this to...," I missed the remainder of the comment. I collapsed to the floor screaming in pain. Not only were the rods closing on me, the collar was also tightening. Sherri became afraid for me and pulled up close to my squirming form on the floor.

"Are you alright? What is it?" She could hear me wheezing. She tried to grab the rods of my chastity and pull them apart, but couldn't budge them. She looked at me helplessly and began to cry. "I can't do it..." she wept. "I can't...!" But the suit wouldn't let up. Suddenly, she screamed. "Stop hurting her! I'll do it!" It didn't abate. She had to let her actions speak. She raced to the bathroom and I could hear the rushing of water. Only then did the pain subside.




I have to admit, if it had been up to me to ready myself for what followed, I'd have spent most of the night cowering like a shy schoolgirl. Fortunately, I didn't have that luxury. It's amazing how quickly a person can adapt to a change in their lifestyle when they simply have to, and don't have time to dwell on thinking about it. Roger had a good sense of this from the start, and, so when my first evening rolled around, he took charge, giving orders right away, directing the scenes without giving me time to worry myself silly about them.

I dove right in. I had to. The process was intense. I was barely introduced to my partners, I was simply given a script and thrust into the role. For the first film, I played a fetishistic cheerleader who, along with two of my latex-clad squad-mates, set out to seduce some of the hunks on the football team. We shot for six hours per night, wrapping up the film in three nights. After the shoots, I would service men that'd responded to the ads placed in the adult personals on my behalf. I'd make out until I was exhausted, drained by a litany of oral service and body moves. I hadn't known that the process could be so grueling. As far as fulfillment, I found that my own pleasure was directly proportional to the amount of submission and humiliation that took place. The more I debased myself, the more I was rewarded.

I mentioned this to Roger. "Well, we could always move filming from the bedroom to the basement dungeon, Pamela," he suggested. "There's more opportunity for a fetish submissive than there is for one playing the mainstream. After all, who's going to believe in cheerleaders with latex uniforms? And there are a lot of johns who'd pay good money to whip your ass." I was appalled at the suggestion and lit up at the same time.

I tried to argue, "I'm not..." but the collar closed in on me. I stopped, and silently nodded my head to the suggestion. My tingling returned. I shivered to think what this would mean for me. Things were getting worse, not better.





Sherri looked like a goddess from deepest Africa. Her suit didn't look like latex at all, but like authentic flesh. The only thing that stood out differently was the zipper of her lips. The suit had extended deep into her mouth as it had mine, but the silver zipper bordered those full, thick lips looking like some freakish punk-style surgical modification. Her face was as unnerving as Pamela's and my own and she was deprived of her abilities to smell, taste and cry. I'm sure she would have wept deeply if she could have. Instead, she slipped into a deep melancholy, to an almost catatonic state.

Her breasts had ballooned beyond DD size, while her waist was pulling in dramatically. She had always been slim, but was quickly down to eighteen inches. I had no doubt that she'd be reduced even more. Her feet, like Pamela's, were forced to the equivalent of seven-inch heels. Her hips and buttocks rounded, looking full and spankable. She too, had talon-like nails and enlarged nipples. She was deprived of erotic touch, however. Her actual nipples were shielded from sensation by the suit and the chastity effectively barred any entry aside from her rear passage.

She said she still felt like her vagina was intact underneath, insulated by the skin of the suit, which crept into every crevice and installed itself there. But her entire lower region was off-limits, with only the tiniest of urinary holes. There didn't seem to be any risk of infection, though. Pamela and I are exempted from periods in our suits. Presumably, the suit regulates our inner workings for us.

"Oh god," Sherry mumbled. "I'm black. I can't believe it. I'm black!" She had been on like this for hours. Finally, I reached for the zipper and pulled her lips closed. She looked up at me, as if glaring. She reached up for the zipper and suddenly buckled, in pain. Wide-eyed, she looked up at me, seemingly afraid. The suit wasn't going to let her release her mouth. She looked up at me, begging.

For my part, I was afraid that it might seal itself shut, so I reached back and unzipped the orifice.

"Oh god!" She trembled. "What next?" I wrapped my arms around her, not anywhere near as indifferent as I was when I discovered Pamela's predicament. I never wanted this to happen to Sherri! Not my Sherri! She slipped her fingers to the polished steel sentinel preventing her pleasure.

"This can't be happening! I can't do without sex, I can't!"

"Maybe the suit will let you feel something elsewhere," I suggested. It looked unlikely, but I still wanted Sherri to at least have some enjoyment out of life. We had to hope. We cuddled, tenderly touching each other, kissing, but not being able to taste each other’s lips. Pretty soon, we were strewn on the floor, curled in each other's arms. Whatever we tried, Sherri felt nothing.



When Roger and Pamela discovered us that evening, they were taken aback by this turn of events. By this time, Sherri and I had located a wig for her, the only logical one (as it would only make sense to find a black one) being a huge Cher wig. It was incredibly thick, curly and full, and came down to her waist. I had worn the thing in a few photo shoots and found I was always fighting with it, brushing it away, trying to keep my arms from getting tangled in it. On Sherri, it looked fabulous, and bonded to her suit right away.

She hadn't realized, until it was already on, how obtrusive it could be. So the sight that greeted Roger was nothing like he had ever expected from Sherri. He reviewed the tape, to try to find out what happened or how the suit found its way into her room. There was still no clue as to why this was happening. The only thing to do, he decided, was to determine how we were going to cope with the change in events.

"Well, I suppose we still need to have Sherri in her housekeeper role. We need someone to maintain proper discipline during the day and I have to admit, you are one hell of a cook." He paced, then paused in front of Sherri. "But from a visual perspective, this turn of events leaves some interesting possibilities that would be a shame to go unexplored." At this, he zipped her mouth shut. Reflexively, she raised her arms to her mouth, then winced in pain.

"You say the suit won't let her undo this herself? That's interesting. Marci, if Sherri is zipped, you are not to release her mouth unless it's an emergency, understand?" I began to protest, but felt the familiar choke. I nodded my head. I doubted that I'd be able to defy him, anyway. Meanwhile, Sherri whined and Roger smiled back at her.

"Oh, Sherri, about those things we discussed for Marci? Have a second set made." Her eyes seemed to widen and she argued a muffled protest, shortened by more pain. I was unsure what was being discussed, but had a feeling that it would be bad news for both of us. My lover looked back at me.



Sherri's predicament had been unexpected, but had become welcomed by our Website audience, our number of hits practically doubling. This wasn't due to Sherri so much as it was from the viewers taking notice of what had happened when she donned the suit. Capitalizing on members' puzzlement, we explained how the suits were in control, how they were driving us on or denying us release, all depending on some unknown whim. Few people really believed it - most thought of it as a publicity stunt, but it garnered a lot of attention for us anyway.

Roger wanted me to look into the possibilities of developing an on-line multimedia program by which members could perceive that they were 'controlling' us to some extent. The only concern would be whether or not to tell Marci about the site and the full scope of what she was participating in. We knew that we might have to, in order to get her compliance. One thing was for sure, though: we were now proving so successful that there was no chance that Roger would end the status quo, now.

We would have to continue and hope that people grew tired of our site. And that was unlikely for the next while. Over time, we had amassed several video sequences that had become favorites and customers could come to the site anytime to select from a live feed or highlights of the previous day's activities. Members were finding more and more to keep them coming back.

In the nights that followed, I became better acquainted with the dungeon. I was becoming used to feeling steel or leather shackles on my wrists, ankles, thighs, elbows and waist. I was finding myself lighting up during the whippings, the stinging tingle in my buttocks almost seeming like an agonized pleasure to be savored. And although I was fortunate that the suit didn't deprive me of erotic sensation, my on-camera companions often drew things out, making me wait and beg, enjoying my desperation.

Often, I'd be used several times, licking a woman to ecstasy while a previous lover's come dribbled down my chin, before they would see fit to let me have some. There were new things, too. I discovered the discomfort of being stretched on a rack, the agonizing hours of being bent over in a pillory, the terror of being spun upside down on a St. Andrews' cross so that my lower regions could be more easily flogged or toyed with.

It seemed like Roger had a steady stream of dungeon implements being built for the place. But then, he certainly wasn't short on cash to obtain them or the opportunity to use them. It was in this time that Justine became a part of our lives. Just barely twenty, Justine was one of the regular actresses we'd picked up for our nighttime filming. Roger had originally contacted her through an adult contact magazine and ours were the first porn movies she'd done. She was actually a shy girl, but insatiably curious. She had a spirit that made her stand out from the other non-descript people we'd worked with (and who rarely ever spoke to me, almost as though they despised me or were too good for me).

Justine was fascinated with the torture instruments and quickly became my sister in bondage. Other actors and actresses came and went, but Justine was soon a constant, asking to be a part of all our upcoming projects. She was fascinated by my suit and was eager to believe that their mysterious origins and abilities to control us were true. She wanted to know how she could get one, but of course, we had no idea. I told her that the reality of it might be more frightening than she'd hoped and that she may be better off without one.

Nevertheless, Roger introduced her to latex and she loved it. She was also fascinated by bondage mittens and arm binders and let us know that she loved having her fingers encased. There were plenty of opportunities to take advantage of this. I became worried that all of this would spiral beyond our control, though. The dimensions of this project were becoming too big too fast. I had no way of putting on the brakes.





The 'things we discussed for Marci' would live up to my fears upon hearing the comment. Roger had learned about some of the bands used during my last visit to Mieko and it had inspired several ideas from him. I discovered this one afternoon after scrubbing down one of the bathrooms.

"I have some things for you," Sherri stated. Having become a little more lilting and a touch huskier, although far from masculine, her voice unnerved me. She led me to the dungeon and with my descent down each step, my apprehension grew. Sherri proceeded to chain my arms and legs wide, my back against the stone wall of the hateful room, several instruments polished by the sweat of the night before. She then opened a canvas bag and I could see several bands and chains inside.

"This wasn't my choice, Marci, I want you to know that. I only mentioned what Mieko had done. I didn't think he'd take inspiration from it."

"Do you have to endure this too?" I asked, remembering Roger's words to her.

"Yes, except for the thimble," she answered.

"Thimble? What's that?" I was nervous as hell.

"You'll find out," she answered and I could sense a bit of sadness behind her voice. Then, she retrieved a circular steel band from the bag. "I'm going to need your assistance to put mine on, so please watch what I'm doing." The band was open at one end, and Sherri proceeded to wrap it around the base of my breast, gathering all the flesh she could through it and then bringing the open portion together at the top of my chest. She closed it, painfully constricting my breast, making it stand outward and full from my body. It appeared virtually seamless.

"How do you open it again?" I asked. Sherri looked up at me with regretful eyes.

"I'm sorry, Marci," was all she'd answered. My eyes must have widened quite a bit. They can't lock shut permanently! I didn't think I could live with the discomfort and I knew that I'd never be able to pull the globe of my breast through the tight opening. I knew this would be even less possible when I studied the second breast band as Sherri removed it from the bag. Lining the inside of the band were several small hooks. I could barely feel them on the band that was already in place, but I knew that if I attempted to pull the band off, the hooks would dig into my flesh, anchoring themselves there.

I also noted that the outside of the bands had D-rings in the top, bottom and outside, conceivably to anchor things to. I thought of what it would feel like to have a tugging at the breast bands and moaned a little whimper. Soon, there was the dreaded click of the other breast band trapping my orb. Sherri went back to the bag and retrieved two smaller devices. They looked like intricate little golden rings built into a cylindrical column, with a flared base. I soon found out their purpose. Sherri pinched one of my nipples and began to feed it into the wire-like cylindrical device. The rings all had a protrusion on the underside and there was an open ring on the outside of the cylinder as well, dangling loose and looking like it could clamp shut. But I was too terrified to focus on wondering at their purpose.

Sherri slid the column down my nipple until the base pressed into my aureoles. She started to press inward on four pins at the top, bottom, left and right, at the base of the thing. There was a spark and a loud snap, which made Sherri jump back with a startled gasp. Smoke rose in wisps from the device. Afraid, I pressed my back tightly against the wall, as though I could pull away from the thing. There was a sharp pain in the base of the nipple and then the smoke dissipated.

Sherri moved back slowly, cautiously and studied what had happened. "Oh, wow. We didn't think that we could pierce through the suit, so we were just planning to have the pointy ends dig inward as much as we could."

"What? What happened?" I was panicked and in no mood for long discussion. "The pins have pushed right into your nipple. It went right into the suit! It's pierced on," she answered. Perhaps unaware of it, she put her hands over her own nipples protectively. At that gesture, I knew that there would be a pair in the canvas bag for her as well.

Carefully, she returned to work. The protrusions at each ring turned out to be little levers, which she could use to tighten them. She started at the base and constricted my nipple, ensuring that they wouldn't come off. She then started tightening the rest of them in outward progression and as she did, she pulled gently on my nipples. The result of this was that my nubbin was not only constricted, they were also stretched outward from me, elongated and forming a spherical bulb on its end.

By the time she reached the outer ring, I was amazed at their length. The only other puzzle was the open, dangling ring at the end, but that would have to wait. Sherri then did the other nipple, being very cautious and standing back when pushing the four pins into the base of the nipple. I couldn't help emit a whine as I anticipated the spark and sharp pain that inevitably came. After tightening down the other nipple stretcher, she retrieved a chain from the bag. There were two links about a third from each end which were marked and she put one of these up to the open ring dangling from my left nipple. She closed it on the link with the same click of finality of the breast cinchers. The other marked link was locked to the other nipple stretcher by closing down the other open ring around it, leaving about a foot of chain hanging between them. There was also about eighteen inches of chain hanging free on each side, with open rings at the end of each.

When Sherri started to release my cuffs, I realized where these chains would be locked. Sure enough, the rings were fixed to the cuffs on my wrists. This meant I had about a foot and a half of play in the chain for movement, but if I tried to stretch out my arms completely, I'd be brought short with a sharp tug on my nipples.

"These can be removed, whenever we need to, at least," she commented and I breathed a sigh of relief until the implication sunk in that everything else would be permanent. Sherri then undid my ankle cuffs and led me to a table. She had me lay down on it and tied my ankles and thighs wide apart.

"There isn't more, is there?" I complained.

"Afraid so, Marci," she answered, and retrieved something from the bag. Returning, she showed me a small thimble-like cover, with tiny holes in its base. "This was supposed to use pins at the base like the nipple stretchers, because we didn't know any other way to fix it to you. But I want to try the lock, instead. Given what just happened, it might work.

I wasn't sure what she meant, until she started reaching into my covered slit, her fingers navigating the little folds she found there. Then, she reached my clit and I realized the intended target of the thimble. But first, she leaned in and licked at it, slowly, lovingly. Although I could feel no friction or moisture, the gentle pressure of Sherri's tongue and a buzzing that began within the suit began to turn me into a quivering mass of flesh. Deprived for so long, my pussy felt electrified, turbocharged and desperate for orgasm.

Sherri must have noticed a response from me, because she doubled her efforts and I writhed first, then was near to exploding with pleasure. It would be a massive release - or would have been, if the suit would have permitted it. The rods of the chastity closed down on my pussy lips tightly, catching Sherri's tongue in there as well. I screamed, and Sherri also cried out in muffled pain. Perhaps the same rule that applied to Pam would also apply to me: that I would have to serve another’s pleasure before being allowed my own.

Eventually, the rods released us and with our extremities throbbing, Sherri went back to work. Reverently, she stroked my clitoris, then placed the cup of the thimble over it. She then took a tiny lock with a wire-like hasp and threaded it through a hole at the base of the thimble. There was again a spark and some smoke. More intense this time was the pain. I could feel the hasp of the lock burrowing through the base of my pleasure center. I became scared and bucked a little, making her job that much more difficult. But eventually, the hasp came through the other side. She then flipped the lock shut, while I whimpered.

"Don't be sad, Marci," she tried to console me. "At least we were able to get the lock to go in. This way, Roger can unlock it from time to time. Which is more than the pins would allow you, I'd bet." I thought of what it would be like to be permanently chastised in such a way and shivered. Yes, the lock was better. Sherri removed my restraints.

"It's..., it's my turn," she said softly. "I think you'd better restrain me, too. I don't think I'll be able to keep myself from struggling." She walked willingly to the wall, paused and then put her back to it, stretching her arms out for the cuffs. I locked her wrists then her ankles wide. The breast cinchers closed with some resistance around her mounds, which were now at massive proportions. The nipple stretchers were a little tougher to do, given that I was intimidated by the spark that I anticipated from each (and which happened). I had to zip Sherri's mouth closed for those, though, because as soon as I pulled them from the bag, she had second thoughts and started screaming and begging me not to put them on her.

I knew that there would be severe punishment from Roger and possibly from the suit as well if I were to back down. So she screamed a muffled protest into her sealed mouth, obviously not as used to pain as I had become. There was a pair of leather cuffs inside the canvas bag for Sherri's wrists, so that I'd have something to attach the ends of her breast chain to. Soon, her ordeal was over.





Everyone was enchanted by the new jewelry Marci and Sherri wore. They were particularly happy about the lock, which Roger had gone ahead and purchased, expecting me to discover a way to pierce through the suit. When I hadn't, he had been somewhat disappointed, but it had worked out the way he'd wanted, anyway. Justine particularly fawned over the decorations and requested some of her own, which Roger made a note of, amused.

As for me, I kept silent, knowing that voicing anything, whether a compliment or a protest, would only get Roger to thinking about having a set made for me. That thought terrified me. Fortunately, no one had brought it up, or at least for the moment.

We were becoming stars, at this point, recognizable names in the adult market. Videos of Marci's ordeals were selling well and my movies were hot commodities. Requests from other filmmakers to work with us were coming in, but we declined. For now, we had to focus on our own projects.

Justine had almost moved in, staying with Roger and I at least three nights a week. She clearly wanted to be a part of our clan and had arrived one day with a rich brown wig with long, delicate cascading curls, saying "This is the wig I want to wear, when my suit arrives."

Of course, we didn't know if one would come for her and we tried to reason with her that it might never happen. But obviously, whoever was running things decided to answer her prayers. One night, after she had arrived for a new movie, she came racing into the dungeon, bouncing and squealing with glee, carrying a box similar to the ones had brought our fates to us.

"Thank you! Thank you! This is so wonderful!" We let her know once again, of course, that we had nothing to do with it and I think her fateful error was to not believe that. She still trusted that Roger or another of our clan was master minding the whole thing. Either way, she opened up the box and pulled out the contents excitedly, to look at it.

Her suit spilled over the floor. She knelt to pick it up, and noted happily that instead of gloves, the hands ended in mittens which would keep her fingers curled up inside. They looked like little paws. She had loved being prevented from using her fingers and loved that helplessness, so she was quite pleased with this feature. Her excitement was brought to a halt when she looked at the mask, though. It extended in a slight snout and was clearly canine in appearance.

"A dog? I'm going to be a dog?"

"Justine, honey," I reasoned with her, "we really have nothing to do with this. I recommend that you don..," The collar, of course, stopped any further communication from me. I'd have to let the girl make her own choice. She studied it more carefully, a little frightened and then proceeded to thread her toes into the legs. She was going to proceed. Roger got the cameras and started filming it all. When she reached her waist, there was a tube that was to go into her backside and a long accompanying tail that projected from the suit. She giggled and proceeded to put it on. I noticed a hole underneath the tail to funnel out her wastes.

As Justine pulled the rubbery garment up over her breasts, the stretchy sensation made her gasp. But she barely hesitated and proceeded to pull it on to her collarbone. She threaded one arm then the other into the sleeves, pulling her closed fists into the paws at the end of them.

"I think I'm going to need help with the rest of it," she smiled. Roger indicated that I should assist. As much as I hated to get involved, I realized that I would have to.

"I can't imagine being this excited about long-term bondage, girl. Do you realize your fingers are probably going to be trapped in those paws for the rest of your life?" The collar had given me back my throat and voice, but I knew I had to be careful. She simply smiled back at me.

"All my life, I've dreamed of bondage and being dominated. Maybe it's not your thing, but it's always been mine. I don't even care if there's a chastity belt in there like Sherri's. Even if I'm denied, that's okay, because it's not a sexual thing, for me, it's an emotional one. I want this." She was determined, so I proceeded.

There were straps around her wrists, designed to pull tight and ensure she couldn't pull her hands back out. I buckled these. I did up the back of the suit to her shoulders and brought out the mask.

"Do you still want that wig with this?" I asked.

"I..., yes, I think so. If I have to be a dog, let's make me a pretty little poodle." The small snout fit right over her face, tubes running into her nostrils and another small feeding tube going into her mouth.

"Justine," I noted, "there's no way for the mouth to open. This is a permanent muzzle. Are you absolutely sure you want to?" She nodded her head impatiently. I pushed all of her hair inside - not an easy task, with the floppy doggie ears hanging in the way and fastened the helmet and suit closures.

Her chastity belt came next and despite her words earlier, I could tell that she was relieved to see that it wasn't solid like Sherri's, only rods like Marci's and mine. I locked it on and then got her collar.

"You're crazy, you know that?" I stated, as I locked it shut. There was a little tag dangling from it, which read 'Misty.' There were other pieces to her uniform as well. I found three steel rings and a drawing at the bottom of the box, which showed how they were to be placed on her. Two of the rings were to be used to lock her ankles to her upper thighs. She seemed bewildered, then stunned by the arrangement. She obviously had second thoughts, but not enough to protest. Once both legs were secured, keeping her on all fours, the third ring was all that was needed to finish her predicament. Her entire buttocks fit through this, over the small of her back, around the sides, and under her bum. A rod slid through the center of the ring, in front of her waist, fastening it there and locking. This ring would keep her hunched over, unable to straighten at the waist. She would remain on all fours.

Roger had turned on a hose sometimes used to rinse us after play sessions and filming. He whistled at Justine half-playfully. "Here, girl!" I put my hand on Justine's shoulder as a final caution. She looked at me a little scared then at the spray. She took a deep breath, and bounded over to the shower.



"Ilexka-ze how are your game pieces getting on, if I may ask?" My sister entered my study chamber as I turned. With her lilac eyes focused on the large screen before me, her lips widened into a large smile. "Playing with them - the inhabitants, I see. Looks like they are providing some degree of amusement for you."

"So far, it has been quite entertaining, Zeeletana-ka." Zeeletana-ka is my only sister, ten solars younger than I. She raised her short green dress to sit next to me before the displays and console and crossed her booted knees.

"What's been happening with them, Sister?" Zeeletana-ka had not seen either Marci or Pamela since shortly after Peter had become Pamela. I brought her up to the present. "Switch the displays to show me all of the players of your game, please?" She asked that I brief her on all that had transpired. It took considerable time to do so.

"This one," Zeeletana-ka touched the tip of her long lilac nail to Roger on one of the ten screens that were now illuminated. "He seems arrogant and selfish. He has taken advantage of the one called Marci. I would send him one of the suits and make his ordeal the worst." Easily, I slid over on the bench.

"If you'd like to play with my game, Sister, you are welcome." Zeeletana-ka smiled broadly, taking my place before the large control panel.

"It will be a pleasure." She set the various dials and switches, depressing the control button when satisfied.

"Tell me about this one, Ilexka-ze? She appears most interesting,"

"That one is named Mieko. She is a slavegirl. I conclude that, of all the players, Marci would be happiest to have her as a life mate, Zeeletana-ka."

"You seem to have inflicted the most torment on the one named Marci. With your permission, Ilexka-ze, may I bring her some of the happiness she desires?" I laughed.

"I had had the same thoughts regarding Marci and Mieko. Please? Make it so, Zeeletana-ka." My sister transmitted another suit to Mieko in her cage.

"The one named Marci will be much happier soon, Ilexka-ze."

"Yes, I also conclude she will be, Zeeletana-ka."



The suit had taken a long time to get used to. Now, there were other things in my life that I had to adjust to. Sherri's change was hard on me. I was as much attracted to her as I was in love with her, but now she'd become a plastic creature like Pamela and myself. Worse, we found we couldn't be too expressive with each other or the suits would punish us. We could get away with play in which Sherri's face was buried within me, until I was near orgasm. But that was the only significant contact we could have.

We were either incapable of feeling other touches or we were zapped for them. I was becoming starved for her love, but my heart ached, because I could never have it. I could only imagine what agony Sherri was going through behind that chastity shield of hers. Something equally unexpected was adjusting to the presence of Justine - or 'Misty,' as we're apparently supposed to call her.

I hadn't even known the girl and yet she became a part of our circle. I felt sorry for the dog-girl. I didn't think she really knew what she was in for. She had no way of communicating aside from whines and little primitive sounds: her mouth was kept shut by her mask and she was unable to write with her hands. She couldn't stand upright and couldn't revert to human life, even for a moment. The suit was also changing her in other ways.

She was literally changing, in the same way that Pamela did. Her curled up fingers really did seem to morph into forepaws. Her thighs and lower legs fused together (along with the metal bands) to become single hind-paws. She was sprouting the faintest of body fur, which grew a little thicker over her breasts. She seemed to be developing an incredible sense of smell. She got sick if she ate anything other than dog food or doggie treats.

Most surprisingly, she was becoming able to move her tail, through manipulation of her buttock muscles. If she clenched, the tail would tuck down between her legs. It was entirely unexpected. Misty had also been given body jewelry like Sherri and I had. The chain between her nipple stretchers was most often where her leashes were attached and she was quite a sight, when being urged along by Roger or Pamela. Our household was metamorphoizing. So there was a lot to adjust to already, when Roger had made his announcement.




I could hear the heated discussion as I awoke one afternoon. It came from downstairs and I went to investigate - a man was yelling at Roger.

"This is your doing! I demand payment for her and you can have her. She's no damn good to me now, you son of a bitch!" I did not recognize the voice.

"How much do you want?" After being yelled at and cursed, Roger was surprisingly calm as I entered the living room. The stranger was short and fat, but impeccably dressed. Nothing about him was attractive to me, but my suit began to light my fires, quickly intensifying my lust.

"Rog', honey, what's all the noise?" I went over to him and he wrapped his arm about me, pulling me close. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off of the man and growing hunger by the second.

"This is Raul Gonzalez, he's Meiko's owner, Pam." I remembered that Meiko was Marci's masseuse. "It seems that his slavegirl received one of the suits and foolishly put it on."

As I stood there, I decided that I wanted him to use me. No sooner had I thought this than my collar constricted and the rods on my chastity belt painfully clamped on my protruding lips.

"Yes, you and your suits have ruined Meiko, no customers want her and if she tries to entice them, it causes her pain. I demand that you buy her!" The man's hard eyes were scanning me as I sank to my knees and started to crawl toward him - I wanted him to use me badly and my suit wanted me to take him.

"I asked you how much?" Roger still talked calmly. With my hands cupping his fat cheeks, I used my mouth to unzip his fly and nuzzled his member out. No attempt was made to stop me from enveloping the flaccid shaft and starting to suck.

"Fifty grand. Pay me and you can have the worthless trash."

"If she is worthless, why should I pay for her?" He was gradually growing longer, fatter and harder in response to what my tongue and lips were doing. I just could not stop though my mind was fully aware of my activities and how disgusting I felt about it. "Tell you what, I'll give you twenty grand, cash on delivery."

As his pudgy fingers entangled themselves in my hair, I felt a sharp sting in my tongue and inside my mouth. It disappeared as quickly as it had occurred and I could suddenly taste. I could taste his hot flesh and stale urine. It was startling, I'd tasted nothing since putting my suit on - months before. The intensity of my newly restored sense caused me to double my efforts to suck him off.

I could feel him drawing closer and closer to orgasm and tasted his fluid as it emerged. When his hands began to work my head to his rhythm, pumping it up and down, I began to dig my claws into his butt and synchronize his hips to each stroke that my bobbing head made. With a loud growl, the volcano in my mouth erupted, filling me with the salty, sticky fluid that I eagerly swallowed.

It was over quickly.

"Clean me slut! Lick all of it clean," he ordered. Once he had climaxed in me, I was repulsed and I tried to back away only to feel my collar and the rods tighten as my muscles tensioned. His grip on my hair added to forcing me to do as I'd been told



"Who are you." IT was a big surprise that awaited me when I returned to my room after doing my chores. In the corner of my room was a small, barred cage containing a petite female form - fitted with a suit similar to mine, but distinctly different.

"Hey yerseff, Marci."

"Mieko..., is that you?" It was definitely my friend's voice. Like the rest of us, Meiko's suit had radically altered her appearance.

"Yeah, it's me, Marci. The key to my cage is on you bed. Ret me out, prease?" I minced to retrieve it then knelt to unlock the door.






Three years have passed since I first put on this suit. I am again in control of my own house and what goes on here, but things will never be as they were before and we know nothing more about the origin of our suits than the note that was fixed to the box that Roger found on his bed one afternoon.


It is our desire for you to enjoy the same delights that suits have

provided to the others do. You will put this on yourself.

Disobey and your fate will be far beyond your most vivid imagination..

Wear these and try to be happy about it.'

From where I was chained in my cell that night I had heard him screaming than all went quiet in the house for a while. I had guessed it had been just a nightmare and returned to sleep.

Yes, it had been a nightmare all right but not simply a horrid dream. Rogetta has taken my place as the maid in my house and the chief attraction on my Website. Though she can speak, using the same little girl voice that the rest of us have, she is either unwilling or incapable of explaining what ever compelled her to put on the suit that she was provided and then go for a swim in my pool.

My appearance has not changed and I'm resigned that it probable never will. Meiko's hasn't either, but Sherri looks much like her former self and poor Justine is still the family pet. Our breast rings and those horrid thimbles vanished when Rogetta curtseyed to us that first morning. We assumed it was the same power that had applied them which removed them.

Rogetta and Pamela are identical in every way, but for the color of their hair and makeup. Rogetta is the one with silvery blue hair and bizarre metallic make-up to compliment it. Oh, almost forgot, that Rogetta is the one on her toes too.

So long as they behave and perform their assigned chores, I permit them to share the same cage at night and are free to do what they want in that small barred cube, but long ago we decided to stop whoring them out. Pamela begs for a guy still, but I'm never going to permit that. Rogetta is terrified by the threat of it.


"Ilexka-ze, I'm enjoying your game. Thank you for allowing me to play."

"You play well, Zeeletana-ka."


Le Fin



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