0 comments/ 43908 views/ 5 favorites Karla in Orgaplex By: tyer Prologue Master told me to gather my thoughts. When I am undressed and my body has recovered again, he wants me to begin writing about my experiences. He thinks that.... Oh my. It's starting again. This time at my pussy. It is spreading my lips and slowly pushing itself inside and expanding. The throbbing begins, slowly at first as it begins to press against my cervix. It grows still bigger and begins to move. It's like a cock, no, it's a fist. Oh, God. Yes. Yes. Faster. Please. Don't stop. More. More. Do it. Fuck me. Again and again. OOOOOOOOOOOH! Gradually decreasing in size, it slides out. Once again I feel luxuriously spent. How many times has it been today? Thirty? Fifty? A thousand? But then, what day is it? What week? Month? My sense of time is not what it once was. I am in an endless moment, modulated at random by exquisite orgasms. Depending upon how long until the stimulations again occur, I just might be able to think my story through. A New Garment It was July Fourth. Independence Day. A funny date for a slave to be remembering (giggle). I had just awakened from a nap in my capsule, naked but for my heels, when I saw my Master enter the library. Right on cue, the capsule opened. Once he was seated in the armchair, I crawled out and over to him. I knelt, my hands clasped in a worshipful way, my head bowed. "Karla! Good evening, my lovely slut. Have you had a pleasant day?" "Yes, Master." "How did you spend it, apart from the Standard Routine?" (The Standard Routine might sound like a name for something mindnumbing and monotonous, but it's actually quite wonderful. I know what to do at every moment of the day, so I don't have to make decisions of any consequence. Decisions make me anxious.) "I did manage to work in some transliterating. Erotica from the Tokugawa Shogunate, Master." "Ah, Tokugawa time. Excellent. Now what will you be serving? Something light for such a sultry day, no doubt." "Some ceviche to start followed by a cold curry chicken salad. A Pinot Noir to accompany and fresh fruit for desert.' "You learned your lessons at culinary school well. I am pleased." "Thank you, Master." With that I reached forward, unbuckled his belt and opened his trousers. I began to suck him. He stroked my head and told me what a good little slut I am. Some time back Master decided that a thank you from me should always be followed by a blow job or a pussy licking. Someone who receives this show of gratitude for the first time is impressed by my submissiveness and subjugation. What they do not know is that I was born to be a slave and a slut and revel in my state. My master triggered my realization. When he was dating me, he introduced me to sexual experiences I had never encountered with my clumsy, inexpert college boyfriends or that my rigidly regulated childhood could have even implied. I had never had an orgasm until I met him. He had taught me to enjoy sex, but I still do not think that even he intended the consequences. I loved sex with him most of all and still do, but I also came to exist for it in itself. It was as though my entire consciousness had centered in my crotch. What this man was doing to me was all I could think about. When we were apart, I masturbated compulsively. I was in an continuous sate of arousal. Out in the world every man I met made me damp. Women were becoming sexually attractive. Everything seemed erotic. It was as though the entire Universe was creating within me a bottomless pit of sexual craving. I was helpless and beginning to question my sanity. I left university after only a year (a freshman honors year, in case you are wondering) and took a succession of jobs, waitressing, cashiering, and the like, but was so often absent that I never lasted long at any of them. The tasks of everyday life, shopping, paying bills, housekeeping, had become obstacles to my need to cum without end.. Although the prospect terrified me, I was considering prostitution as my last option, hooking for some lowlife pimp in the hope that frequent although usually unpleasant sex could fill my perpetual need. Then one day on his way from somewhere to somewhere else (he is a very busy man) Neil came to town. We spent several happy days together. On the last night, after I had come enough that my hunger was momentarily assuaged and we were talking, I said apropos of nothing, "You can do anything you want with me. Anything that you are capable of imagining. Anywhere. Anytime. Anything." "Do you mean that? Really mean that? he asked, turning to look at me squarely. "Yes, Neil. Whatever you ask of me. Forever." The rest, as they say, is histoire. Some changes were made. I had died. Or had been made to appear to. My car fell over a cliff with horrible results. Burned beyond recognition. What was left was sent to my parents. Divorced and hateful of one another that they were, I am sure that they nonetheless observed all of the appropriate conventions and then put me behind them in short order. It hurt me to know that I was just a detail to dispense with. Neil arranged for an autopsy result and a death certificate. Within the space of a few days I now longer existed so far as the world was concerned. We observed the event with a somber dinner. After a meal that I had merely picked at was removed, Neil said, "Get on your knees and give your assent to each statement I make." I knelt before him. "You exist only because I allow it. "I own you, body and soul. "Henceforth, you will do nothing unless I tell you to. "You will refer to me forever more as Master. "You will never again ask a question of me. "You will never again use the word No in my presence" I agreed to each statement. Then he asked me to rise. "Slut, you are about to become one of the happiest women who have ever strode the earth." A year or so later after one of my Master's sumptuous dinner parties, Master Hideo, my Master's best friend and physician, told me how lucky I was. "You have a sexual obsessive-compulsive condition more severe than any I have seen, with the possible exception of my slave Michiko. If Neil had not acquired you, the prognosis would have been bleak. Sent to an institution and given much medication for your own safety. Left on your own, either disease or violence would surely have killed you. You are highly intelligent. Stultifying such an otherwise fine mind with pharmaceuticals would have been a pity. And you are so beautiful. Your death would have been a waste. By allowing you to become an utter slut, Neil has given you emotional stability, an outlet for your compulsions, and a structure for your life, actually. Without the control he exerts over you, the things that you have come to appreciate, music, literature, languages, and all of the other components of a rich, fulfilled life would have been forever beyond your reach." Then he fastened the ball gag and the blindfold, and I began writhing happily in my chains while he probed me everywhere with Heaven only knows what. Master came with his usual explosive force. I rose and left to get dinner. During dinner we talked about my cello lessons and his recent lab experiments - the physical sciences being one of his many interests. At meals I can speak freely, not waiting for him to talk. Even so, I still cannot ask questions or use the word no in his presence. Uh oh. It's beginning to move. More orgasms. No, wait. I'm just changing position. I've gone from my hands and knees to the Lotus position. As I was saying.... "I practiced a piece by Scarlatti this afternoon. I think that Melissa will be pleased with the improvement in my bowing," I said, refilling our wine glasses. Master chewed thoughtfully. "Music from that period is so rich and elegant, I think. You must play it for me soon. Or better yet, I will arrange for Michiko to come over and have Melissa work it out as a duet. That way you may entertain Hideo and I. That would be pleasant." "That would be fun, Master." "Things went very well at the lab today. The prototype I have been designing is finally ready for a test. I would like you to help me." His enthusiasm was evident and his excitement can be contagious. "I'm always happy when I am of use to you in addition to being used by you, Master." "Fetch the box on the desk in the library." I placed it on the table. I was dying to ask him what was in it. "It is not a very big box, Master." "No, Karla. But this, you little cocksucking fiend, is one of those instances in which size doesn't matter." Smiling, he took off the lid. First he removed a small device that looked a bit like a pager. Then he took out some kind of malleable black mass, hefted it in his hand, and held it out for me to inspect. "What do you think?" "What a nice, shiny, black, uh, blob, Master." He laughed. "This 'blob,' as you put it, may well have a major impact on you. Now clean up and when you are finished, join me in the library." "Yes, Master." He was running some calculations on a laptop when I entered and squatted down on my stilettos next to the chair. "There you are, Karla. Take the 'blob,' and place it on the floor a few feet from me." Once I did so, I stood aside. He took the pager thing and pressed a button. The blob began to change shape until it formed a flat disk about two feet round. Then it stopped. "Master, it seems to be alive." "Only seems to be. In fact it is a machine. Or more to the point tens of millions of machines. Each one the size of a molecule. They function in concert to change the shape of the experimental polymer in which they are embedded. I call it Orgaplex." "I suppose it has lots of potential applications, Master." "To be sure. But for the moment I am interested in only one. Step into the center of the disk." Once I was in position, Master manipulated what I now realized was a controller. The disk began to contract. Then it began to rise up over my heels and climb up my legs. It continued its upward advance until it reached the top of my neck. For a few moments it sort of quivered as it distributed itself evenly over me, finally coming to rest. I was perfectly encased. "Move around a bit and tell me how it feels." I walked around the library. It was the strangest sensation. I was conscious of wearing something. Orgaplex, I found, is never truly still. There was this almost imperceptible humming. All of those miniscule machines thrumming away. But were it not for that, it was almost like wearing nothing at all. It moved as I did. The fit was so perfect that when I looked down even the rings on my labia and clit hood were perfectly covered, their centers still open. I touched myself there and felt a slight though seemingly impermeable cleft between my lips. "Well, my latex slave, may I have your expert opinion?" "This is a marvelous material, Master. It is incredibly comfortable. And it fits much better than any latex outfit you have ever given me. Thank you so much for letting me wear it." While I finished my show of appreciation, Master continued to talk, almost to himself "It is still of limited functionality. But there will be improvements over time. More programming to do. Perhaps dabble with the polymer's coefficient of elasticity..." Then he looked on me as I swallowed and licked my lips. "It is getting late, he said. "Wear it to sleep to night. We'll talk more in the morning." I went to wash up, not there was much of me left exposed to clean. Returning to the library my capsule opened. Just before I got in my Master told me that since my holes were covered, I could not penetrate myself. So he gave me a vibrator for my evening's toy and bade me goodnight. I crawled into my capsule which promptly sealed itself. Soon after Master left the library. I was alone, if you overlooked the millions of invisible devices covering my body. Running my hands across the Orgaplex, I thought that it was the smoothest thing ever to exist. Somewhat like polished marble but flexible. Smoothness has been a thrill to me for a long time. My Master knows this, but then, what doesn't he know about me at this point? One of the first things he did after I became his slave was to have every hair on my body removed save for my eyebrows, lashes, and of course my crown of auburn hair. So my body is as smooth as it can be, especially with the Spa regimen that is part of the Standard Routine. But even hairless skin has some texture, while Orgaplex is intoxicatingly devoid of any. I continued to marvel at the fit and feel. It hugged me so closely that when I tried to pinch it and pull it away from my skin, I couldn't. I wondered if it was bonded to me. The smoothness and the idea that I had almost been transformed into a new kind of creature, part human, part machine, were very arousing. OK, I admit it. I am never very far from being very aroused. Mere arousal is my basic state of being, slut that I am. But these were new stimuli, and I drank them in. I reached for the vibrator and for about an hour 'gasmed myself to near exhaustion. As I nodded off I noticed that all of the cum that had shot out of me (I'm a really juicy girl) had not made a puddle in my crotch. It instead was being distributed all over me. The machines at work? Pondering this new and pleasant sensation, I drifted off. The Music Lesson The bed's vibration signal went off, stirring me to wakefulness. The capsule unsealed, and another day began. Getting ready to crawl out I noticed that my skin was almost dry, although the capsule definitely smelled like pussy. More mechanical magic? I had a lot to tell my Master at breakfast. But once I stood up I had a nasty surprise. Houston, we have a problem. My bladder was bursting. I hadn't peed since yesterday before dinner. I didn't have the controller, and even if I did, I wouldn't have used it (some things slaves just know they shouldn't do). And it was still half an hour at least before my Master came down for breakfast. I don't have an aversion to water sports. Wetting myself has its pleasures when I'm wearing a diaper, as Master had me do once for a time. But this was something else. Walking around jacketed in piss had no appeal whatsoever. I resolved to wait. All during breakfast preparations, I practiced Kegel exercises. Squeeze. Squeeze. Fortunately, all of the muscles are strong down there (my Master jokes that I could crack a walnut.) The sound of the water I drew and poured into the coffeemaker nearly made me lose it. While I tended to the rest of breakfast, I recited prime numbers. Got only as far as 97. What do guys do when they try to postpone cumming? Laundry list? Baseball statistics? Oh, Master, please come downstairs! Finally, he arrived, settling in at the table in the solarium. I rapidly walked over and knelt, waiting for his greeting. He lowered the morning paper and peered down at me. "Good morning, Karla. The morning is as beautiful as my stunning slave in her new outfit.." I looked up. "I suppose it is, Master." His face became concerned. "You certainly look distressed and uncomfortable." "I have to pee, Master. Really bad." He began to laugh. You haven't peed since yesterday?" "No, Master." More laughter. "I don't know why I find your predicament so funny. Where did I put that controller? On the desk? Or was it the nightstand. Hahaha." He left the solarium, still laughing heartily. Finally, after what seemed forever, he returned. He gestured with the controller. The Orgaplex slid down my body to the floor. "Than.." "No Karla, save the thanks for later. Off you go." I made it to the bathroom about a millisecond before the dam burst. "I slept well in the Orgaplex," I said later while nibbling on some toast. "But a curious thing did occur." He cracked the top of an egg. "Tell me." I explained about the disappearing cum. "And now your capsule smells of cunt. Elementary, my dear slut. Orgaplex can become semipermeable. When the machines are programmed to sense moisture, as they currently are, they fashion what amount to micropores in the material. It allows you to respirate normally. So unlike latex, there isn't that clammy feeling, and you can wear it for long periods of time, indefinitely, I suppose." We finished breakfast, chatting amiably about this and that. Then he said, "Come here, Booful." I got up. He lifted me into his arms and carried me upstairs to the master bedroom. He lay me on the bed and began to undress. He lay down next to me, embraced me, and gave me a long, delectable kiss. I looked into his slate gray eyes. "Master, I haven't thanked you yet." "You have a rare one time exemption. Your capsule isn't the only thing that reeks of sex. I can only control myself so long when you smell like that. With that he began to kiss, lick, suck, and fuck me thoroughly for the rest of the morning. The time seemed only too short. "Now it's off to the lab to see if I can get some modifications to the Orgaplex finished in time. And it's time for you to get a late start on a truncated Standard Routine. Omit everything but the jogging and the cello lesson. And of course I don't want you to miss your nap. Anon then." One last kiss and he left. In time for what, I wondered? Oh, well, on with the Spandex and the running shoes. I rushed out to the grounds surrounding the mansion and started jogging. It was not long before I had my usual company. Loping up to either side of me were Lancer and Hugo, Master's Alsatian shepherds. Large, gorgeous animals with fur white as snow. They were devoted to Master. They liked me well enough, I guess. When I gave them a command they obeyed, and when I petted them they wagged their tails. But they responded to me in a subtly different way. When they looked at me, their intent, alert faces made me wonder if they were in some sense thinking and about only one thing. (Don't be surprised, you must have realized how my mind works by now). But any new sexual exploration had to be introduced by Master. I had never sensed that his tastes ran in that direction, either with the shepherds or the occupants of the stables that I was now rounding on the way back to the mansion. But, if he ever did desire it, his dutiful slave would go at it with her typical enthusiasm. Teehee. I am just such a slut. I made it back, changed into a black latex skirt with red halter and 4-inch stilettos and entered the music room with no time to spare. "You were very nearly late, slave." Melissa was standing at the grand piano, her impatience evident. All of the instructors, masseurs, masseuses, beauticians, or designers I encounter have been selected by Master only after exhaustive vetting. Personal histories, full medical exams, and psychological profiles are required. And I am required to obey them in all things. However, should I come to any harm, they will be dealt with severely. "I am sorry, Ma'am," I replied in the most demure voice I could muster. Melissa was an imperious, demanding woman. At a muscular five feet 10 inches with ebony skin and braids, she cut an imposing figure. When it came to cello and to a lesser extent violin, she was among the best in the world, having been a guest soloist in most of the quartets worth listening to. It was a mark of the esteem in which she, as many others, held my Master and Master Hideo that she consented to accept me and Michiko as her only students. I began to play the Scarlatti. Melissa listened. When I finished, she took the cello and sat. "Slave, that was about as interesting as watching paint dry. You played it, but you did not express it. A piece of music is not like a recipe. It's worthless unless you give it a piece of yourself." She began to play. It seemed that she was playing a different composition. There were passages that I had never realized could twist your heart in knots. Karla in Orgaplex "Now," she said, "Again. And don't try to copy my technique. That never works." How could I put myself into the music? I did not know. But I started to play, resigned to yet another dour review when I finished. Then a few bars into it, I thought of being fucked by Master. I imagined the rhythm and tempo of the music to be him pressing into me, licking my nipples, biting my clit. I gave myself over to those images and combined them with the music. When I finished, I looked at Melissa. She wore a dreamy expression that was a sharp departure from her usual demeanor. I waited for her to speak. "Uh, that was better. Much better. How you managed it is beyond me. But whatever you're doing, keep it up. Now I believe that it is time for you to take your nap." "Yes, ma'am." Playing with that kind of intensity was emotionally draining, and I yearned to curl up in my capsule and masturbate myself to sleep. I left the music room and headed for the library. Upon entering the library the capsule was unsealed, the open end beckoning. The capsule is about six feet long and four in diameter. It is made of transparent lucite and rests on a plinth. Master keeps it in the library as a kind of display. Sometimes he will sit in the armchair nearby and simply watch me play with myself and sleep. Like so much else in the mansion it operates automatically, opening in the evening and sealing me in for the night and doing likewise each afternoon for my nap. Along with my passion for smoothness, I like being confined. Anyway, I have a proprietary attitude toward the capsule. It is my private space. No one has ever entered it but me. Stripping off my clothes, I headed toward its inviting opening. But just as I was about to enter, I heard Melissa, who apparently had followed me instead of leaving as she usually did. "What is that, slave?" It is my sleeping capsule, Ma'am." Approaching it and me, she said, "I want to see." "It is just where I sleep, Ma'am. Nothing more." I began to crawl inside. Then, just as I was almost in, Melissa followed. Once she was completely inside, the capsule sealed itself. It's probably obvious, when you think about it, that slaves do not express anger. Isn't really consistent with the idiom. But at that moment I felt like being idiomatically inconsistent. She had invaded my Space, and I was Fucking Pissed. Excuse me, Master hates that kind of vulgarity. The capsule was expressly designed for one occupant, namely moi. It fitted me perfectly. Room enough to stretch out my full five feet and an inch or sit up if I choose. Adding a five-foot, ten-inch Amazonian music teacher made it more than a bit cramped. I arranged myself as best as I could and contained my pique. How was I supposed to frig myself to sleep with her in here? She looked around and began to grow uneasy. "OK, I have seen enough, slave. Open it." I turned my back to her and muttered, "I can't, ma'am. It's remotely controlled. It will not open again for three hours." She grabbed me and turned me around violently. "I said open it, Godammit! Open it now!" "It is an impossibility ma'am." "Break it open." "Sorry, ma'am." Not even our combined strength could make so much as a dent in it." Her face had become a mask of terror. Hmm. Melissa was a claustrophobe. She feared confinement as much as I loved it. Interesting. The realization gave me a sensation I had never had, that of power. "Ma'am, with all due respect (was I ever relishing this), there is nothing to be done about it. The capsule will open when it is supposed to. Now it is time for me to sleep. My Master requires it. And I think that you know only too well that he will not be pleased if you prevent me. I closed my eyes, doing all that I could to keep from smiling. "Slave. Slave. Listen to me." I could hear her choking up. "Slave. Karla. Please talk to me. I'm so scared. When I was small and misbehaved my Mother would lock me in a steamer trunk and leave me there for as much as a day. It smelled of mothballs and one time a spider was inside and it crawled under my clothes and I could feel it crawling over me. I can't be confined, it's like being dead. Oh, please, please say something." She continued to beg piteously for me to acknowledge her. It did not take long before my heart began to give in. My career as a dominant had lasted for about five minutes. I opened my eyes. "Melissa, don't be afraid. I spend hours on end in here, happy as a clam. This is not exactly a steamer trunk you know." It surely was not. Orgaplex was not the only polymer that my master had whipped up. He also invented the material for my mattress. It conformed to your contours and adjusted its temperature to yours so that you were always comfortable. The capsule is soundproof so there is nothing to disturb your slumber. But what was perfect for me was anything but for poor Melissa. "Now calm down. We have less than three hours now before the capsule unseals. I know you're scared. But there is nothing to fear." "I am really scared." I started to feel a bit devilish. Melissa was a very attractive woman. "Tell you what, Melissa. Can you keep a secret?" "What kind of secret?" "I'll stay awake and if we're lucky the capsule will pop open before Master gets home. You can go on your way and no one will be the wiser. In the meantime I have something we can do to take your mind off things." I kissed her full lips, paused, then kissed her again, this time longer. My fingers moved down and unbuttoned her slacks slid inside. I reached her panties (nice material) and gently began to probe. Melissa responded in no time at all. It was a bit difficult to get her clothes off - she was longer than the capsule - but we managed. She was the best toy I had ever had in the capsule. Her breasts were pendulous and so suckable. And her pussy, though completely in proportion to the rest of her, seemed huge. She was so big and I was so little that I thought for a moment that I was having sex with Gulliver's sister. I nimbly moved around to position my mouth and hand just where I wanted them and went to town. While I sucked and licked her swelling clit my fingers were busy pressing inside. She was slippery and soaking wet and her former sobs were now moans of pleasure. Finger by finger I pressed on and with a sharp shove, drove my hand into her. She began to shudder and press her cunt against me. I was still fucking her when the capsule popped open. She did not even notice. I slipped my hand out and lay back down next to her. Her face was that of a happy woman. I hugged her and rested my head against her breasts, thinking that we would be getting up soon. She fell asleep. Enough. I had been the compassionate slave, but I had to get dinner ready. "Melissa. Time to get up now." No response. I grabbed a nipple and squeezed hard. She jumped. "Melissa, the capsule is open now." Yawn. "Oh, that's nice." Slowly she roused herself. We extracted ourselves from the capsule and she dressed. I walked her to the door, her arm around my shoulders. As she left, she kissed me, smiled, and said, "You know, that old steamer trunk would not have been so bad if a slut like you had been in there with me." I could not help feeling pleased with myself. I am good. Really good. Needless to say, the whole secret subterfuge was false. Over a dinner of Caesar salad, (the genuine article by the way, raw egg and all) followed by linguine with white clam sauce, a Valpolicello, and sorbet, I related the whole tale, chapter and verse. Master twirled a bit more pasta against his spoon. "So you liked having a little power over someone, did you?" "It was a novel experience, entirely new to me. But in the end I did not like playing with someone in pain." "So many people seem to thrive on it. Think of all the masters and mistresses we know that devote most of their time to coming up with ever more lurid ways to keep their slaves in agony. And then think of all the slaves who need to be treated that way. Cruelty is definitely one of the pigments on the palette of human desire, but I have never been able to understand its appeal. I enjoy having a slave and I derive great pleasure from putting you through all sorts of physical and psychological contortions. But the experience is not complete for me unless you end up cumming by the bucket. I like knowing that no matter how much you cum, you always want to cum even more. That you live to cum. It is the most erotic thing I have ever experienced. And after all providing satisfaction is what a slave is for. You do your job well." "I know that I am just an obsessive-compulsive nymphomaniac, master. But I am so grateful to you for making me express it in so many different ways. Thank you so much." "Let's have our sorbet in the music room. I am in the mood for some Haydn. Afterward you may finish thanking me." "As you wish, Master." The Party of 100 It had been several days since Master had mentioned that he wanted to get the Orgaplex ready in time, but I still had no clue what it had to be ready in time for. What could it be? He was coming home late, too late even for dinner, and I do so hate to dine alone. The Standard Routine kept me busy. But I missed him. He wasn't fucking me enough. It wasn't that my urges were being neglected. Left to my own devices I can keep myself satisfied. And of course, while I was picking flowers, Carlo, the gardener, gave me a nice, long fuck. And then at the beautician, Marie, the manicurist, was kind enough to strap on her preposterously large dildo and ream my ass, while Joan, the stylist, did a creditable job of keeping my clit throbbing with her tongue. At the Spa, John gave a whole new meaning to total body massage. But then there is sex and then there is sex with my Master. Actually, what I mean is that there is sex and then there is making love with my master. Love is not a word he ever has used, and it would be rank presumption for his slave to talk to him about such a thing. But the truth is that I love him so much. All the other sex is just fun, a way to scratch my perpetual itch, please Master with my erotic capacity, and see how far it is possible to go. With my Master it satisfies another need. I know he loves me. He never needs to say so. Finally, after four days of his being occupied with work I emerged from the capsule after my nap to find Master sitting in the library watching me. He was looking quite satisfied with himself. "Karla, my dear slut, it is done." "I am glad that whatever is done is done, Master." "I will tell you after dinner. Get along now." After dinner we returned to the library. "Tomorrow there will be a Party of the Hundred." "That's wonderful, Master." The Party of the Hundred was a gathering of 100 masters and mistresses and their slaves. Quite an illustrious list of people. Scientists, judges, academics, artists. All of whom shared the common interests of dominance and submission. The parties occurred according to no schedule, happening whenever it was possible to bring everyone together. The parties usually followed the same form. They began with a reception, a grand banquet, some dancing, and then entertainment in the form of one slave who would have the challenge of satisfying the rest. One hundred ninety-nine people to service. From time to time the entertainment would be a male, but by and large it was a female. More orifices to work with. Some of the slaves that have done it have told me that being the center of a gang bang of that magnitude is truly an unique experience. "I wanted you to look your best, and I wanted to show off a little as well. So I have been working hard to get the Orgaplex modifications finished. You will wear it to the party." "That's so exciting! Thank you Master." I finished my thanks with especial zeal. I had wanted to wear the Orgaplex again. Since the first time I had worn it, regular old latex seemed to be running a poor second. Form fitting though it may be, there are still folds when you bend and you can get clammy at times. I couldn't wait to get those millions of machines covering my body again. "Once people see it, everyone will want one, Master. Rubber fashions are so popular among the 100." "I have no intention of going into the clothing business, Karla. Being a merchant is so plebian. Besides, I do not think that Orgaplex fashions would move off the shelves. Too pricey. Your suit represents nine million dollars of work and most of that is materials alone. I do not plan to make another. Like the capsule and the Standard Routine, it is for you and you alone." I was dumbstruck. The amount of money that my Master lavished on his slut was never lost on me. But this was unbelievable. "Words fail me, Master. A mere thank you would be inadequate." "Just as well, slave. I haven't yet bounced back from your last expression of gratitude. Now off to bed." I performed my ablutions and returned to the library, where the capsule was waiting unsealed. In I went. Master remained in the armchair, watching me. But I was oblivious to his gaze once I began pleasuring myself with my dildo and then went to sleep. It was hard to concentrate on the Standard Routine the next day, so excited was I about wearing the Orgaplex. Finally evening came, and Master covered me in that wonderful material. At my feet, it shaped itself into a pair of especially tall heels that put me almost on tiptoe. Oddly, though the Orgaplex felt the same as it did before. I wondered what the modifications were. He threw on his tuxedo jacket, wrapped me in a black cape, and we walked out to the limosine. The ride to the mansion of the master hosting the party was brief and quiet. Master was not especially talkative. When we arrived, he turned to me and said, "it's time to finish your outfit." "I thought it was finished, Master." "Not quite." My arms began to move, but I wasn't moving them. The Orgaplex was. They went behind my back, bending at the elbows. The material, instead of covering each arm separately changed shape and spread over them. I was more effectively bound than ever before. "Open your mouth." I did so and he sprayed something into it that tingled. "Just a local anasthetic to paralyze your vocal cords. It will wear off by tomorrow. But tonight I want you to be silent. The Hundred will be astonished by the entertainment you will be providing, for tonight you will be a living doll. Now close your eyes." The Orgaplex which had stopped at my neck began to rise until my entire head was covered. I turned my head and could still feel my hair moving. "That's right, the Orgaplex has covered each individual hair. You are completely encased. Don't worry about breathing. You will have no difficulty with that. But you might be a bit apprehensive about the sensory deprivation at first. Just relax. I am sure that you will adapt well. And anyway you will be receiving quite a lot of sensory input in a few hours. The last thing that happened is that the Orgaplex began to expand into my ears, shutting out all sound. I was blind, deaf and mute. Truly a doll. My master attached a collar and leash and guided me out of the car and into the mansion, I suppose. We seemed to walk for a few minutes and then came to a stop. The Orgaplex around my legs began to shift and as it had with my arms and surrounded them as one. Then it became completely rigid. I was immobilized, a sleek, black statue. As I mentioned, I have always liked being confined, but I had never been confined like this before. Nor come to think of it had anyone. This was a first. I pondered my situation. I was not uncomfortable. But I was completely alone in a room full of people, many of whom were probably looking at me in complete wonder. They could even be running their hands over my smooth surface. The Orgaplex seemed thicker than it had been when I had first worn it. Then I could feel things through it. Now it was more like armor. More movement. The material began to compress my waist more than any corset ever had. I felt as though it was shrinking to the diameter of the neck of a brandy bottle. Then it stopped. It was impossibly tight. What did I look like? I waited. I decided to try to sleep. I drifted off and began to dream. All sorts of images drifted through my consciousness. But slowly, eerily, I began to realize that I was not asleep, but I was wideawake dreaming. Lacking any sensory input my brain was still generating images without any stimulus. I supposed they were more properly hallucinations. I simply let them occur. Occasionally I would interrupt them by trying to maintain a train of thought. Let's see, we got here at about 8. The entertainment should begin at about 11 or so. That's three hours. And I have been standing here for what, 15 minutes, half an hour. There is no way to tell. I was conscious of my heartbeat and started counting beats. Using 70 beats for a minute, I attempted to keep track of the time. I started to play melodies in my brain. The Haydn from yesterday. Beethoven's Sixth Symphony. Yes. Good. That should take up some time. I was beginning to sense that sensory deprivation could be somewhat uncomfortable. But I just had to ride it out. The images my brain was generating finally carried me away into a kind of madness for lack of a better word. I felt disembodied, more of an idea of a person than a real one. Then, finally, the Orgaplex began to move. My limbs were freed and I was walking, then kneeling, then lying on my side. Bending at the waist. Finally I lay on my back. My legs began to move up toward my head until my feet were crossed behind it. My hands extended down along my breasts and seem to be resting on the backs of my thighs. Then I felt as though I was being turned over and lifted. It was so hard to tell. At least the activity provided some sensory input. There would be so much to tell Master tomorrow. I was bracing myself for the return of the hallucinations when I felt air against my skin. Parts of me were coming uncovered. Five parts. My mouth, breasts, pussy and ass. The entertainment was about to begin. A cock entered my mouth. Another entered my ass. Mouths fastened to my breasts and pussy. I devoured the sensations. I felt cum filling my mouth. I swallowed. Another cock pressed in. Someone was shooting into my ass. I felt as though I was swinging. I must be suspended in some sort of sling, positioned to make all my openings available. The idea of what was occurring started to excite me. Soon, the first cascade of orgasms passed through me. And then another. Again and again. It was spectacular. More cocks. More cum. A pussy pressed against my mouth. One enormous cock entered my pussy. Hands fondled my nipples. I could feel the growing abundance of cum mixed with my own considerable juices flowing out of my pussy every time a cock was withdrawn. My ass was completely dilated. Any hunger I had from not eating was being sated by the loads of semen I was swallowing. x The orgasms were endless by now. The pendulum had swung from no stimulation to more stimulation than I had ever experienced. I was not thinking anymore, only feeling more and more pleasure. This is what I had been seeking. This is the state I had so long wanted to be in. I was ecstatic. The penetrations and sucking began to slow down. Finally, the last cock erupted in my mouth and my ass and pussy were empty. The openings in the Orgaplex closed. It enfolded my body. I could feel twin rivers of cum flowing from my ass and pussy, causing the Orgaplex to accommodate it. I passed out, bathed in cum from head to toe. When I returned to consciousness, I was lying in my Master's bed in my Master's arms. The Orgaplex was gone. I had never felt so naked. He stroked my hair. Karla in Orgaplex "Karla, can you hear me?" I nodded. "Try to say something." "Master, I want more."