Chapter 1

The lenses in the author’s glasses glittered in the candle-flame on the restaurant table. She shoved aside the empty desert plates that the wait-staff had yet to clear, and made space to open her notebook.

“Let me set the scene for you.”

“Please do,” I said. My phone was vibrating rhythmically inside my handbag. I ignored it, nudging the bag under the table with my foot. It wasn’t expecting a call, and it wouldn’t be anyone from work on Halloween night.

She tactfully pretended not to hear the phone, and put on a theatrical voice, almost losing it and laughing at herself.

“Imagine yourself, dressed in the Haunted Costume, a cursed fetish Halloween outfit that torments its wearers. The only way to escape its evil clutches, is to ensure that somebody else wears it on Halloween night.”

“The reader starts wearing it?” I asked.

She put her head on one side and looked directly at me. Unblinking, I stared back into those pretty grey eyes, not wanting the moment to end.

Blushing, she glanced down at the book. “Not really. It’s just a teaser line, don’t over think it.”

She turned the page of her notebook, glanced down, and declaimed again.

“It’s 2012, and in the Curious Case of the Haunted Costume, Aneka wins an online auction for a sexy rubber Halloween costume. When it arrives, unexpected erotic items are included. Come Halloween night, Aneka can’t resist the lure of the extras. Her work friends, Mandy and Jessica tease her, and force her into the armbinder that came with it. They leave her alone, and helpless, and while they’re away, the suit seems to change, blindfolds her, and molests her unseen, leaving her gasping in ecstasy. A passer-by glimpses something through a window, and dies of a heart-attack, hair turned white.”

She leaned forward, grinning. “It’s pure urban myth cheese right?”

She let the question hang.

My phone had stopped ringing, and the candlelight was making her deep red hair look like it was aflame.

“Eight years ago? Ok. Draws my attention to why it’s so specific. Cute,” I said, and reached for the wine bottle. I topped up our glasses draining the bottle down to the dregs. “Sorry. Ignore my babbling. Don’t let me interrupt.”

She put her hand on mine. “Thank you,” she added, as if referring to my courtesy with the bottle.

Her finger nails were white SNS, just like my own. I hadn’t noticed before, though it was nothing remarkable. Lots of people still had them, though there were probably nicer finishes now. Even so, it was funny we had that in common, as well as certain literary tastes.

She took a deep breath, and continued. “Seven years ago, the year is 2013, and in the Sinister Story of the Haunted Costume, changed by her experience on Halloween night, and promoted at work, Aneka has become cold and cruel. Throughout the year, she bullies Mandy and Jessica, intent on getting them sacked. When Halloween rolls around again, Aneka offers to reconcile with Jessica…”

She took a drink, and I was still thinking about her nails.Like her teeth, they were incredibly neat and even. She probably never broke one. Every little detail of her appearance was perfectly polished, revealing a habit of meticulous attention.

Her tone still humorously over-dramatic, she resumed the story.

“…but only if Jessica meets her in the deserted basement storeroom. Mandy suspects a trap. Jessica, desperate to repair relations with Aneka, decides to go anyway. Ultimately, Jessica’s guilt ends with her dressed in the same costume that changed Aneka the year before. Blackmailed, humiliated, and trapped in restraints, she makes her way to Aneka’s flat to be released and make amends. On arrival, bad turns to worse. Jessica refuses to believe that Aneka has been driven to monstrous acts by the rubber outfit, and they fight, with tragic consequences.”

She paused for dramatic effect, her expression questioning, eyes wide.

I’d waited months for this meeting. Began to doubt I’d ever get to interview her. It was funny that she’d finally been able to meet me for dinner on Halloween. Auspicious, and a little romantic. I hadn’t expected my interest to go beyond the professional, hadn’t anticipated her seductive positivity. Now, she was literally putting on a show for me, giving me a preview of a new short story that wasn’t even properly finished yet. I had a good feeling our meeting would go far beyond the interview. I reached for the glass again.

She chewed on her bottom lip in a way that made me heat up down below. I loved her teeth especially, so perfect and even. Maybe later, if I was lucky, I’d enjoy her nibbling on my nipple with them too. I’d never guessed she might swing my way. Nobody had warned me about it, yet surely it would have to be a worst-kept secret that everyone knew? Everyone except me, anyway.

“Do you want to go back to my place now? I mean, if you want?” I’d broached the idea earlier, and she’d seemed receptive, but what if she changed her mind? “You can tell me the story there, it’s quieter, and I have wine and chocolate.”

“I like that idea.” She hesitated and smiled. “But please indulge me, I want to finish reading now I’ve started. The mood is just right. Afterwards, we can decide where to go, and I’d love to see what you’ve done with your place, it sounds fantastic, but tonight is special. So many fun things happening.”

She put her hands together, as if pleading with me. “I want to show you something too.” She licked her sparkling, flawlessly glossed lips. “Anyway…The story, it’s just for the web site, it won’t be going in the collection. Oh, and it’s a long one, for a short. We might need another bottle to finish this.”

I gestured to the waitress, who gave me a disapproving look. It might take a while to get that extra bottle.

“Let me take you back three years, not to Halloween, but to August the twenty-sixth, 2017.”

And so, she began. I had a tingling feeling it might be the start of something special.

August 26, 2017

Dan was resigned to his first fetish party attendance being a total failure, and then she walked into the room. There weren’t a lot of real women at the rubber party, but there was no confusing her with a man in a doll suit.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, though if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t terribly uncommon for him to have that thought about a woman.

His heart leaped at the sight of her. He would have gone straight over, except he was still trapped in these damned stocks. There was no way he could duck his head out through the rubber-lined hole unless somebody released him.

With his hands tightly buckled into heavy-rubber cuffs that held the inflatable ball-mittens on, there was no way he could pull them out of the stocks either. The mittens crushed his hands into useless fists and isolated them inside a tough rubber ball. He couldn’t use his fingers, and even if he could, he still couldn’t have reached the buckles on the cuffs. He had no hope of getting out without help.

The cuffs were padlocked part-way along a steel bar, that passed through the rear half of the wooden neck-stock. The bar was supported at either end by wooden posts, which themselves were bolted to the plywood base he was standing on. Held together with sturdy bolts, it looked like the whole thing could come apart for transport, but right now, it wasn’t going anywhere.

He couldn’t even look down to see his feet, though he could tell by listening, and by feel, that his ankles were cuffed to a spreader-bar, which was attached to the base by a short chain.

He’d been into it initially, and his cock had been straining inside his tight rubber pants, but this wasn’t the way he wanted her to first see him. He’d dreamed, but he’d never believed, that somebody like her would appear at a party like this.

Her face was the first thing to grab his attention, and when she’d looked straight at him, he’d been transfixed by those eyes.

She’d straightened her long blonde hair, so it fell like a cascade of gold around her face, and her eyes were a pale, luminous grey, he’d never seen before. Her features just a little too rounded, her chin a little weak, her mouth wide, and somehow her deviation from the ideal not a flaw at all, but instead a virtue, that made her, in his eyes, not merely conventionally pretty, but a unique beauty.

But if he was honest with himself, it wasn’t her eyes, magnetic as they were, that had his attention.

Tall, with a full figure, she wore a floor-length, black rubber hobble dress, polished to a mirror-like shine, and a glossy, light-brown rubber blouse, with plunging lapels framing a deep cleavage, that teased with glimpses of a black-and-burgundy, satin over-bust corset. Four small, pearl-capped press-studs closed her closely tailored top tight around her waist, giving it a business-like and professional touch. Her shoes were brown platforms, with tall, but chunky heels, the color matched her blouse. Black rubber opera gloves finished off her look, equally as shiny as the dress.

He couldn’t take his eyes away from her voluptuous hips, and shapely, curving thighs. They contrasted with her tiny waist and slender body, bursting back out into sizable and barely contained breasts. He knew he shouldn’t look at her so hungrily. It was probably creeping her out, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her.

She most likely thought he was a weirdo already, from the way he was staring at her, and his situation in the stocks could only confirm her suspicions. A leering submissive. Not a good combination.

His head would have sagged in despair, but he had to keep watching. Even knowing that he would never be with her, he couldn’t help himself trying to burn this image of her magnificence into his memory.

But that was all it was, an image. He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. She was on the other side of the room. It was less than ten meters, but it might as well have been a different country. She was on a different world. He would never be close to her, the scenario the exact definition of ‘out of his league.’ Of the single guys prowling the party, most of them were more experienced, cooler, better dressed, better looking, and probably richer, than he was. He had no chance against guys like that.

She had appeared out of nowhere, and it seemed like everyone in the room was intrigued. Even if they didn’t look directly, they had an eye on her. She must have arrived recently.

The lecherous single guys were already starting to home in. He couldn’t blame them. He would have done the same. In fact, right now, wasn’t he bemoaning that he couldn’t do that very thing? She was about to get a lot of attention. Would it be more than she’d bargained for?

Please, don’t let them drive her away. It would be heart-breaking to watch her leave immediately. He’d ache to see another getting her attention, or worse, gaining her affection, but at least he would still be able to gaze at her and dream.

Men outnumbered women at the party, though several of the men were dressed as rubber dolls. The mysterious Curator had organized it. He’d been running a rubber and doll forum for as long as there’d been an internet to run it on, and there were rumors that he’d been running something, even before that. Though the Curator had set up the party, he didn’t seem to be around. Surely, if he was, a crowd of admirers would be gathered around him, eager to remind him of how grateful they were to be invited to his exclusive get-togethers. Perhaps he was remaining elusive to avoid that exact scenario? It would be wonderful if he’d show up about now, to release Dan from his bondage.

Dan blinked, was she smiling at him? He smiled back, though it was probably more of a sheepish grin, and he was so happy, he probably looked like an idiot. He steeled himself for the moment of embarrassment, the feeling that comes after you think somebody is looking at you, and you react to them, but actually they’re looking past you, at somebody behind you. It had to be that. It had to be. There was no way she was really looking at him.

She was walking in his direction. If there was somebody standing behind him, there was no way he could turn to check. He’d already made a fool of himself, in so many ways, there was no point backing down now.

She walked right up to him.

“In the stocks huh?” she said.

His mouth moved, but no words would come out.

“Don’t tell me you’re not allowed to speak either?”

He tried again. “Um… No. Sorry. I just. Wow. You’re speaking to me.”

She laughed, rolled her eyes sideways, as if checking for somebody standing next to him. “I think so. Shouldn’t I be?”

Her voice was… It was perfectly ordinary. She could have been the girl next door. For some reason, he’d expected her to sound arrogant, or coldly seductive, but she wasn’t like that at all.

“Well, I mean. I am kind of in the stocks, and there are all these guys here that look like body-builders and movie stars. Why would you talk to me?”

She gave a quick little nod, pointed down towards his belt-buckle. “Yeah. But you’re not bad yourself. And you’re the only one in the stocks, which makes you the most interesting. How did you end up here? Are you with somebody?”

He was in such a hurry to get the words out that they got mixed up with each other.

“I didn’t plan… Um, didn’t come…. Not with any… Uh, sorry.” He took a deep breath. “No. I’m not here with anyone, not with a domme, if that’s what you mean. This guy Zeb kind of dared me to do this, then ran off and left me. So, I’m not interesting, not really. I’m just an idiot that got tricked.”

She nodded, slower this time, slid her hands down her waist, tracing the lines of her blouse. Her fingers came to rest on her hips, just for a moment. Did she even know she was doing it?

“You don’t seem to mind too much. Hey, is it ok if I tell you a secret?”

“What? Uh… Sure. I’d be honored.”

“No need to be so nervous. I won’t bite. Or spank. Though, with you bound up like this, I ought to. I could do just about anything, if I wanted, couldn’t I?” She gave a wicked little grin. “But I was going to say that this is my first time at something like this. The outfit, the party, all new. You’re probably more used to this than me. So, don’t tell anyone alright?”

“I won’t say a word,” he said.

She put her hand on the steel bar that extended from the side of the stocks, which his mitten was cuffed to, and leaned in a little, her mouth close to his ear.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this. Is it ok for me to play with you? I should ask for your permission. That’s the polite thing to do, right?”

“I guess so. Nobody else has. They just roll up, whack me a couple of times with that crop over there, then laugh and walk off again. It hasn’t been as much fun as... I appreciate you asking though. Please, do whatever you like. Whatever you do, if it’s you, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She leaned even closer, and his lips were close enough to touch her ear, if he dared. He exhaled a heavy breath. Her hair fluttered, tickling his nose.

She made a quiet humming sound, then sighed. “I can’t believe they’d do that. You seem a nice guy. That’s so unfair of them. They should either play properly or leave you alone.” She brushed his lips with her finger nail. “Shouldn’t they?”

Her other hand, the one not resting on the bar near his head, stroked the crotch of his rubber pants.

“Ooh. That’s quite something you’ve got there. I think I’m glad you’re tied up. I wouldn’t want that thing just coming at me.”

“If you don’t take your hand away, I think I might come right now anyway.”

She made a clicking noise with her tongue, “Now, now. Don’t be naughty. No coming anywhere without my permission.” She took her hand away. “You promise, right? To do as I say?”

He gasped for air. He’d forgotten to breathe. “Right. Yes. Yes. I promise.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning her head. She kissed him on the lips. Very soft, just a touch, but it wasn’t a nervous peck, she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Wow,” he said, between breaths, he was panting like a dog, dizzy from lack of air, but she hadn’t really done anything. Yet.

She leaned down and kissed him again, longer and harder. Her hand shifted, settling on his buttocks, the opera-gloved fingers sliding smoothly over his rubber pants. As the kiss continued, she gently squeezed, and he tensed the muscles in his behind. She pressed back harder, and her tongue explored his mouth. Her lip-gloss had a slightly sticky feel to it, and a faintly bitter taste, but her tongue was sweet.

She broke the kiss, and her finger traced a path from his buttock, around, over his crotch, and then up his abdomen and chest, until it rested on a nipple. She pressed playfully, then circled, drawing little circles on his extra-tight black rubber t-shirt.

“You’d look the part in a hood. You know the kind with a zip to close the mouth? But I like to look at your face too, so it’s ok this way.” She smiled, then laughed, then smiled again, her cheeks flushing.

He’d been so intent on her, focused so close, that he hadn’t noticed until now, that almost everyone in the room was looking their way, while pretending not to. A wave of panic washed over him.

No. He had to calm down. Ignoring the cold, sinking feeling in his gut, he looked back at her, seeking reassurance. Had she also noticed how much attention they were drawing?

She leaned in close again, and whispered, “Cordy92. You can call me Mistress Cordelia.”

What did she mean? Wait. That had to be her forum name. “Mine’s Dan9000, and I’m not always a sub you know? He hissed back.”

She seemed to have noticed the onlookers too, and though her face had flushed a deep red, she didn’t hesitate. Moving confidently, she circled around behind him, picked up the crop, and smacked it loudly into her palm.

A man’s face, cheeks shadowed with stubble appeared in front of him. “Hey, Doof! My man.”

Suddenly Zeb was there, right in his face, at the worst possible moment. Here was the dick who had lured him into the stocks, and then added the ball-mittens, as if they were even necessary. Why hadn’t Dan realized that this guy was nothing but a mobile nuisance right away? He’d seemed helpful at first, but clearly, that was all an act. More likely, he just liked to mess with naïve newbies.

“Hey Doofus. Let me help you out here. You’re not in the moment. You need to get deep into the sub-space.” He held up a well-padded blindfold. “This ought to help.”

Before Dan could protest, Zeb had pulled the blindfold into place, and turned his world into almost total darkness. As if that weren’t enough, then he adjusted it, and tightened the strap, making the darkness absolute.

“Hey. Cut that out,” Dan said.

“What’s that?” Zeb responded.

At that moment, Cordy92 landed a stinging glow across both his buttocks.

Dan let out a squawk of surprise.

“Shit Doofus. I think you need this too, or you’re going to embarrass yourself,” Zeb said.

Dan felt something being forced into his mouth. It turned out to be a large panel gag, with a stubby penis protrusion that, fortunately, concealed a breathing tube.

He tried to resist, to push the hated thing out, but it was useless. And then his tongue was trapped under the cock, and there was nothing more he could do about it. Straps tightened, pulling the panel tight against his face, and he lost the ability to make any sound that didn’t fit through that tiny breathing hole.

As the next blow landed, hard, on his left buttock, he could only whimper. The drive-bys who’d hit him with the crop must have just been teasing him, giving him token blows, out of a kind of obligation not to leave a willing sub-participant ignored.

She struck him again, and he hissed in a sharp gasp of air though the breathing hole. It was possible that Mistress Cordelia was painfully conscious of everyone in the room watching her. After her gentle teasing, he hadn’t expected her to be so ferocious.

He didn’t hear another word from Zeb, as she reduced him to jelly. His cock a tight agony of frustrated desire. It had to be standing up rigid and obvious in his pants.

Something about her seriousness was getting to him. He was glad she was going so hard, happy that she was putting so much into it, even though her blows were bringing tears to his eyes. She had asked his permission, and he’d given it, and he didn’t regret it, even if it meant he’d be rubbing soothing ointment into his tender, burning, backside for a week.

Despite the pain, the blows stopped too soon, and he felt a warm breath on his ear. “Dan, you’re making me so wet. I’m wearing rubber panties, and it’s just squelching out of me. Squelching, and running down my leg, every time I move. But there’s no way to get you inside me with this stupid dress on. I never thought…” Her words trailed off into a soft moan.

Dan made a feeble whistle through the gag. Please let her release him. He needed to be free, free to hold her, free to kiss her, free to… His thoughts moved so fast that they got caught in a tangle, trying to work out how to get around the problem of her skirt.

Her voice in the darkness. “Shit, that guy is coming back. I think I’m going to leave before he tries to molest me again. Grabby pest.”

And then she was gone, and Zeb was back, laughing in his ear. It was like falling into hell.

“Hey Doofus, my man, thanks to me, you’re the fucking hit of the party. You better show some appreciation for what I did for you there. Man… Man, would have been so sweet if she’d pegged you up the ass. Imagine that huh? Makes you hard right? I see your little thing, all fired up there.”

Dan gave silent thanks that his trousers were padlocked in place.

* * * * *

Zeb congratulated himself on having got the competition out of the way so neatly at the start of the night. That babe would definitely be his. As reward, he finished another bottle and dropped it lazily onto the floor in front of him. The sound of it landing on the carpet was masked by pounding music. He felt dizzy. It would pass.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and almost turned too fast, only just regaining his balance.

In front of him was a hot rubber babe. Perfect height. Perfect curves. Sealed in rubber, like a shrink-wrapped snack in a pack, sealed, but ready to eat.

“Fuck me,” Zeb said, in surprise at her sudden appearance. He struggled to take her all in. She was quite an eyeful.

“I would, but no go.” She pointed down to her crotch, where a heavy rubber panel came down from under the corset and covered her crotch. She grabbed his hand and pressed it against her pussy.

No soft hot pussy there, instead the solidity of metal beneath the rubber. Probably a stainless-steel chastity belt under the rubber coating. Nobody would be banging this slutty babe tonight. Not unless she really wanted them to. She probably had the key right with her.

Her full body cat-suit was glistening rubber, with long lace-up vinyl boots, and a shiny black vinyl under-bust corset, with brazen tit shelves that pushed up her ample flesh. The vinyl was the good stuff, more like rubber with a liquid shine than plastic. The front of the suit was tailored to show off her bulging assets, not flatten them, and she had plenty of assets to show.

Her face was hidden under a full-face cat-mask, more black rubber, with white whiskers painted on. There was a little spot for the nose. It looked childish, playful, yet somehow sinister. A long tail of bright-red hair poked out from the back of her hood.

“What you after cat-babe? Come to offer yourself to Zeb here? You better have the key to that thing.”

“Not tonight. No. Probably not ever. I saw you with that girl. The blonde with the big arse.”

“Yeah. High times. But don’t let that put you off. The way she beat that newbie sub was fucking sweetness, eh?”

She flashed him a smile. Perfect teeth too. “That cow was literally dripping for you. Believe me, a woman knows.”

“Yeah. Thought as much. The way she was looking at me, dead give away.”

The woman nodded, and stepped up close, really close. “She was acting all tough on the outside, but I know her kind. What she is. Afraid to put herself in the hands of a real man. Afraid to give up control. Afraid, of how you might make her feel. How you might take her places she could never go alone, and wouldn’t dare to, even if she could. Know what I mean?”

“Yeah. I’ve seen ‘em. Uppity bitches. All bullshit about respect and no means no. When we all know fucking well, when she says no, it really means‘ make-me.’ Right?”

“I think you summed it up. A frigid cow like that, you get through to her, and she’s yours for keeps. No matter what you do, she’ll always come wobbling back for that thing she needs but daren’t admit to.”

“I can get behind that. Or her. Or you. Basically, I’m behind shit.”

“A couple of months, come Halloween, there’ll be a much bigger party. Much bigger. You know which one I mean?”

“Yeah. I know exact-a-mundo.”

“The Curator goes all out for that one. Nobody with an invite will miss it. I’ll be there. She’ll be there. A hundred bucks says that pathetic piece of fresh man-meat she was playing with will be there too. You see where I’m headed?”

“Sure, I do,” he said. He grabbed her breast and squeezed, catching the nipple.

She just grinned at him, as if he’d told a dirty joke she liked, then gently pushed his hand away. As if to say, ok, but I’m bored now.

“I’ll help you get her alone. Helpless. In a private room full of restraints…If… If you return the favor with that pathetic example of a wanna-be slave. He’s such a piece of shit, I’ve just got to teach him a lesson. One he won’t forget. Who knows? He might want to stay my pet full-time when he finds out what a real mistress is like.”

Zeb nodded, overdoing it a bit. He grabbed the wall to stave off the dizziness. Stupid room, shouldn’t spin like that.

She fixed him with a stare. Creepy. “We have a deal?”

“Yeah. We definitely have a deal. Shake on it?”

She grabbed his nipple and twisted. “Sure.”

Zeb almost choked from the shock, but he managed not to let out a sound of pain.

He slapped her hand down, and their hands met, clasping. He yanked her towards him, pulling her in. His other hand slapped her ass and pulled her crotch against his with a bump.

“Deal,” he said.

She shoved him away, laughing. “You’re an asshole. A real arsehole. I like that.”

“Want to do it then? I’d take you over that chubby blonde any time.”

“I’m afraid it’s impossible for me to have sex with someone who still uses the words ‘babe’ and ‘high times.’ I wouldn’t do it, even if I could travel back in time to whenever people talked like that, if they ever did. Which I doubt, except maybe on planet A-Hole.”

“Fuck, you’re a hard one to please.” A sudden pain in the gut doubled him up, and the room span like a crazy thing.

While Zeb was vomiting, she walked off. Pity. He’d been in with a chance there.

September 22, 2017

Dan waited for Cordelia at the famous coffee shop in the airport. It had been three weeks since the party, and they’d been passing messages back and forth on the forum, and then chatting in Whaschat. They’d been doing that quite a lot, in fact, and sexting too. Some of the sexts had surprised him.

He didn’t recognize her at first. She was wearing glasses, heavy frames, lenses large and rounded, eighties-style, and her hair was up in some kind of ‘do’, like a bun made from a fancy braid. She looked very different from the party. Shorter, in a grey wool business suit, with a sensible skirt and flat pumps. He might never have realized she was the same person, if he hadn’t been waiting for her. He must look different too, but she’d spotted him with no trouble anyway.

She sat down opposite him. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here?” Her voice was exactly the same. All of a sudden, his heart was thumping in his ears.

Dan chuckled. “Yeah. You’d almost think we hadn’t arranged this a week ago.” He had to keep his cool, not mess this up. It was impossible, his cool had disintegrated at the first word from her.

“It’s pretty lucky that we both have business trips that cross paths here. I’ve got an hour before I have to board.”

“Yeah. I guess we both do a lot of travelling for work,” he said. He nodded towards the shop counter. “You want a coffee? Anything else?”

“I’ll just get a fizzy water, but not the San Pedro, it’s H-M.”

“You sure?” He hadn’t known that brand was H-M. They had so many companies, it seemed impossible to avoid them. And then there was a question, why? Why would she avoid H-M products? He daren’t ask, as it would reveal his shocking ignorance of some key social issue. Child slavery probably, or destruction of lemur habitats. He didn’t want bad things like that to happen, but he didn’t spend much time thinking about them either.

Dan scanned the code on the table-menu and used his phone to order. He added a large latte for himself.

While he was busy, she took her suit jacket off, folded it, and hung it over the extended handle of her wheelie case.

“Sorry. Just water. Got to watch the calories. Sales lunches are murder. Can’t eat for a week every time I do one. Right now, it looks like I’m starving until Christmas.”

“I envy your determination. I’d never cut it in sales, but maybe that’s a good thing, if it’s as tough as you say.”

She nodded. “Competitive, and nice commissions.” She hesitated. “But I do it because I like to meet people, the money’s just a bonus.” She leaned in closer, speaking more quietly. “Anyway, how’re you doing? Got your invite for Halloween yet?”

“Yes. Yes, I have. I probably have you to thank for that. Much as that session in the stocks wasn’t how I’d imagined meeting someone, it wasn’t just a good icebreaker. The Curator messaged me personally, with a thank you for my ‘contribution to a fun party’.”

She smiled at that. “Have you met him yet? The Curator?”

“No. But he seems to know who I am. Now. With your help.”

“I wonder if he’s really a man though?”

“I hadn’t thought of that. But he probably is, right?”

“Yeah. Probably. I mean, I hope so. I didn’t feel good talking to the women at the party. There aren’t too many of them, and the ones there are… Kind of intense, right? One, she was really odd. So many questions, really intrusive.”

“It’s seems, as a rule, there just aren’t as many women into rubber fetish as men.”

“Their loss. They’d have their pick of all those hunky rubber covered men.”

He didn’t respond right away, and in the moment of silence, she blushed, dramatically.

Dan took another second to realize why. “Can I take that as a compliment?”

“Only if you give me one back.” She toyed nervously with the condiment rack.

“I can’t believe that someone like you would pick me from that crowd of people. I really feel unworthy. You know?”

She flushed an even deeper shade of red. “Someone like me?”

“I mean… So funny. And pretty. And clever. Considerate too, and…”

“Kinky?” She finished his sentence, still blushing, and laughed, a little too loud. The people at the next table glanced across at both of them.

The awkward moment was defused as their drinks arrived.

“So, you’re not always a sub?” she said, stirring the ice in her water. “I know, in the chats… We played… You know? I like that too. I want to try it for real.” She adjusted her glasses and gave him a look. “When I’m ready. Not just yet. I’m not as confident as I pretend, you know?”

Dan was eager to answer. “That was my first time as anything, except by myself. When I’m doing self-bondage, it’s just me. It’s different. Being at someone’s mercy… It takes your breath away, but I want to try the other side too. But when you were in control, it was like I could read your feelings, somehow. What about you?”

She started to answer before he’d finished asking. “I guess I’m naturally bossy, but… I mean, talking about numbers. More people are subs than doms, aren’t they? I think. I’m just guessing. Most people want that thrill of something happening to them. No matter what you do alone, it’s not like being in somebody else’s power. You don’t have to trust.”

He nodded. “You’re probably right. I hadn’t thought about it that way. I just assumed most guys want to be on top. But if you look at so many of the stories the Curator has collected on his site, thousands of stories, it’s not true, is it? Only a fraction of those stories are about the satisfaction of being on top. Most of them are about what it feels like to be on the bottom, even if they’re written from the top point of view.” He took a drink of his coffee, sneaking a glance at her chest as he did so.

Even here, in an airport coffee shop, the way her white cotton blouse stretched over her curves was making him hard.

“Exactly.”

“So, you’re going to dress as a domme for the party?”

“Definitely. I have to. If I showed up as an unattached sub, it would be like a feeding frenzy. And… I guess I’m not ready to go as your slave yet.”

He blinked. What did she mean? ‘Yet?’ He’d been dreaming of that scenario, but had never imagined she’d ever considered it a possibility. Never.

It was his turn to flush red.

“I’m not confident I could keep you safe either,” he said. “Some of the characters there are a pretty full-on pushy. That guy Zeb. He was messing with me all night. I think I’d still be there if that old guy hadn’t released me.”

She tried to hide the smile, but he could see it in her eyes.

“That much attention… Perhaps he fancies you too?”

“I hope not.”

She nodded slowly, grinning now. “It’s kind of hot. Two guys.” She was laughing. He couldn’t take her seriously.

“Please,” he said, acting dumb.

“I’m joking,” she said, but they both knew it already.

“So, it looks like I’m going to be your sub again?” he kept his voice level. “I’m fine with that. Actually, more than fine. I mean, really grateful. And I can imagine a lot of jealous guys, wishing they were in my place.”

“Thanks. I’m looking forward to it, and I promise, I won’t put anything up your bum. But I would like to see your cock out, in all its glory. I would like to touch it, and your thingies… Balls? Would that be ok?”

Dan almost sprayed his coffee.

October 31, 2017

Halloween night was here and Cordelia was dizzy with excitement. She didn’t need to drink, and she certainly didn’t need any other substances. She was floating on a natural high of anticipation.

She was at the party. The time. The place. It was happening. Dan. Everything.

Her body felt numb, detached, as if it belonged to somebody else, and she was just along for the ride. She was wearing most of the outfit she’d worn last time, but she’d left off the panties, and the skirt was different. This one had zips, front and back, for easy access. Closed up tight, like she was now, it was as slinky as the other one, but it only took a moment and she could split it right up to her crotch.

The lack of underwear was liberating and scary at the same time. Tonight, a lot of people might see her do something she preferred to keep private. Could she really go through with something so drastic?

She’d flown interstate to attend, but it was going be worth it. This was the event of the year. The Curator’s Halloween parties were legendary. Admittedly, only legendary on the Curator’s own forum, but a lot of people there seemed to be excited about the event.

Unlike the previous party, back in August, which was in a regular suburban house, this was at a function center, with one big room, and a dozen smaller ones around it. The whole place had been taken over by the Curator, and all the regular staff replaced for the night. She’d like to know how he got the center to agree to that, assuming he really was a man.

She drifted around the edge of the main room, searching for Dan. She was a little late, and he’d said he would be early, so he was probably already here somewhere. He better not have got himself into trouble again.

There was a man approaching her in a rubber t-shirt, muscular and lean, long rubber shorts, and legs like a cyclist. In the dim light, he somewhat resembled Dan. Her eyes traced upwards, past the bulging package, past the broad chest, and up to the face. Their eyes met.

She cursed silently. It was the nuisance Zeb, and she’d made eye contact. Even though she looked away immediately, he was already heading towards her with a filthy grin on his face.

A woman in a black rubber catsuit, vinyl corset and boots, stepped in Zeb’s way, heading him off. Catsuit was exactly the word for what she was wearing, because she had a Halloween costume mask, with white cat-whiskers painted on.

The woman was wearing shiny vinyl boots that laced all the way up her legs, with five-inch stiletto heels. Cordelia’s platforms had five-inch heels too, but they had an inch and a half of platform, so it was more like wearing a three-and-a-half-inch heel, not far off the fashion heels she was used to. This woman was considerably more … hardcore … but even with her heels, she was still several inches shorter than Cordelia, who was five-nine in her bare feet.

For whatever reason, this woman’s appearance caused Zeb to veer off, and instead of approaching, he vanished into the shadows at the edge of the room.

“Thanks,” Cordelia said. “I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“No worries,” said the woman. “Nobody does,” she left a long pause, that almost became awkward. “Want to talk to him, that is.”

Cordelia glanced around again, looking for Dan. “Thanks again.”

“I saw you at the last party. You made quite an entrance.”

“Thanks. I wasn’t late on purpose.”

“Yeah. You and that guy put on a good show. Looking for him?”

“Yes. I guess. It’s not important.” For some reason, she didn’t want this woman to know they had a connection beyond that night.

“I saw him earlier. He might need you to rescue him, in fact. Got himself in a sticky situation again.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He was in one of the side rooms, last I saw. I’ll show you.”

“There’s no need, really.”

“It’s no problem. I insist.”

The woman took Cordelia’s arm and began to lead her into the shadows at the edge of the room. She didn’t really want to follow, but it would be awkward to pull away from her.

“I like your outfit by the way. Classy.”

“Your outfit looks like you mean business, and the mask is very seasonal,” Cordelia replied.

“Yes. It’s not so good the rest of the year, but I make do.”

“Sorry?”

“I always wear this same old suit. I guess you could call it my kink.”

“Different,” Cordelia answered.

The woman steered her though a doorway into a small, almost claustrophobic room. It was edged all around with upholstered seats. Taking up a good part of the available space was a clothes rack, like one might find in a department store, but this one was stocked with rubber clothes, leather straps, chains, cuffs, and kinky vinyl costumes. There was a wide, shallow tray at the bottom, filled with gags, sex toys, bottles of lube, locks, keys, and of course condoms.

In the corner, a carpet tile had been removed and a double winch bolted to the concrete floor, its drums wound with thin chain.

While Cordelia stared in amazement at the arrangement of the room. The woman closed the door behind her. She regained Cordelia’s attention the moment the door clicked shut.

“What are you doing? Where’s Dan?”

“Not here yet.” The woman flipped closed a new-looking hasp and dropped a padlock through it, sealing the door.

“Sorry? Why did you do that?”

The woman tilted her head, examining Cordelia with a predator’s stare. Even though she was shorter, and looked considerably lighter than she was herself, Cordelia felt a chill of fear trickle down her spine.

“So you can’t run away, of course. Cordelia. Darling.”

“How do you know my name? What’s going on?”

“My name is Jessica by the way. You can call me Mistress Jessica. Not that you’ll get much opportunity.”

“Jessica, why are you doing this? Did I do something to upset you?”

Jessica continued to stare.

Cordelia was frozen. It was if she was pinned, helpless, unable to move, like an insect arranged for display. She tried to open her mouth to scream for help, but it her muscles wouldn’t obey. She couldn’t even ask how the woman was doing this to her. Realistically, she couldn’t, it was simply Cordelia’s own fear, wasn’t it?

“No, no, no, that’s Mistress Jessica to you, Cordelia. But I’m not settling a grudge. Rather, I really like you. I like you so much that I want to be you. And tonight… Tonight is the night I can give the costume to somebody else, you see? Well, if I was just going to get rid of it and be free, you’d have to accept it of your own free will, which might be tricky. So, I’m going to force it onto you. It’s been a few years now, and learned some things. I know some new tricks. A lot of good tricks.” Her words dissolved into laughter.

Cordelia wanted to tell Jessica that she was insane, but she couldn’t form any words. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she speak? Why couldn’t she stop this?

Jessica flowed forward, her movement smooth, fluid, practiced, yet casual, as if five-inch spike heeled boots were the most natural thing in the world to wear. It was if she made a habit of advancing on victims, in a spooky way, all the time, and had turned it into an art, a kind of dance, that she delighted in performing.

Jessica put her hand on Cordelia’s shoulder, and she couldn’t help but sink to her knees. Now she was looking up at Jessica, and not the other way around.

“I will show them to you,” Jessica whispered, close to her ear.

Jessica wasted no time, quickly cuffing Cordelia’s hands behind her back, with a pair of solid, but otherwise vanilla, handcuffs. Then Jessica forced a gag-ball into Cordelia’s mouth. Still, she found herself unable to fight back. No matter how desperately she wanted to struggle, her body simply refused to respond.

The gag-ball had a lot of sturdy leather straps hanging from it, and Cordelia guessed it was a full trainer gag. There were steel rings either side of her mouth. A strap buckled between the rings, under her chin, so she couldn’t push the ball up and over her bottom teeth, another pair of straps, one from either ring, reached back behind her head, ultimately joined together, cinching the ball back deep into her mouth. Another pair of straps went up from each ring, either side of her face and were riveted into an inverted Y just above her nose. The strap from the Y reached up and buckled to a pair of straps coming up from behind her head. There was a d-ring on the top of it all, where the three head-straps were riveted together. She had seen similar gags in pictures, and even in real life at the previous party, but none quite as sturdy, or with the three-strap arrangement over the head, which made it very secure. Her plans for the night had definitely not involved wearing one.

Jessica dragged a light chain across from the winch and clipped it onto a d-ring at the top of the gag-trainer, then threw the chain over a large hook installed in the ceiling. Despite this, the chain was still loose, sagging into a curve.

Cordelia could move again, and tried to get to her feet. Jessica punched her in the gut, as if it were a regular thing to do. The corset-busk spread the blow, but Jessica hit harder than Cordelia had imagined possible. She was thrown backwards, off-balance, stunned and gasping for air. Knocked from a kneeling position, she momentarily swung from the chain, every muscle in her neck burning, before she could get her knees under her again.

“Next time, I’ll hit you harder. And afterwards, I’ll take my irritation out on your little friend with benefits, Dan.”

Cordelia tried to tell Jessica she was crazy, but being gagged and barely able to breathe after a blow to the solar-plexus, she wasn’t in the best situation to make herself understood.

Jessica undid the zips on Cordelia’s skirt, almost to the top, then folded Cordelia’s left calf up against the back of her left thigh, and cinched it in place with a leather strap. It cut into the soft parts of Cordelia’s thigh, digging deep into her defenseless flesh. Then Jessica repeated the process with the other leg.

Cordelia was obliged to kneel, while relying on the chain for support. Jessica went to the winch and tightened the chain, lifting Cordelia’s head, dragging it irresistibly upwards until her kneecaps were only part of her resting on the ground. Gagged, and with her hands cuffed behind her, Cordelia was now frightened, helpless, and unsure how long she could hold this position before her neck muscles gave out. Even if she dared put up a fight, there was nothing she could do. She had no choice but to use her knees for support, and hope that her neck could keep on supporting her weight.

“You just wait here like a good girl, while I go and fetch your idiot boyfriend.”

Jessica unfastened the padlock and slipped out of the room, closing the door behind her. It seemed likely that she had locked it again from the outside, somehow. Or perhaps, there was somebody else outside guarding it?

Cordelia struggled to free her legs. It might have been easier if she hadn’t inherited a tendency to slightly chubby thighs, bum, and boobs from her mother. Since puberty, she’d longed to be skinny, yet no amount of dieting or exercise ever seemed to change things. Even if she starved herself until her ribs stood out like a greyhound, she couldn’t seem to get the padding off her hips and thighs.

This was no time to beat herself up over her body shape. Reaching the straps might have been easier if she wasn’t wearing a stiff corset that made it difficult to bend, because her hands couldn’t reach the straps around the top of her thighs. And it would definitely have been easier if her hands weren’t cuffed behind her back in the first place. How on Earth had she let that woman Jessica do this to her? Why hadn’t she been able to fight? It was as if something inside her had wanted it to happen.

It wasn’t time to beat herself up over her own stupidity either. Hopping about from knee to knee, all her weight on her neck, it felt like her spine would eventually pop. And she was only exhausting herself. Even when she managed to push against the strap, it wouldn’t move. Her thighs swelled thicker further down, and then her calves, plus the straps were much too tight. She wouldn’t be able to get them over that swell of flesh without undoing them, even if she wasn’t in the corset. She cursed and cursed. She’d always thought those business lunches were going to be her downfall, but not like this.

30.10.17