The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Returning from the court to The Guesthouse like a driven woman, Sophia found a small man waiting for her in the dining room. He was probably in his forties, though could have been younger. His features were sharp and his hair was dark and cut tightly. He had a soft voice, though even before he had spoken Sophia had guessed he was a clerk; the leather satchel he carried had already suggested that view.

“Miss de Herillosor? I am Arnal Merton.”

“Yes. Are you here regarding the ship to take me to Jarator?”

“Indeed. I have a berth on the ‘Angelina’ leaving in seven days. It is a fine ship, at least as good as the ‘Tanith’.” Merton pulled a document from his satchel.

“No, that is no good. I must leave immediately. Today, if you can, tomorrow at the latest.”

“Oh, you are not enjoying staying in Serafold?”

Sophia gave a harsh laugh. “How could anyone?”

“Well…” Merton seemed reluctant to be disloyal to his city.

Sophia wondered at a man who would work in a place run by dominant women who had seemingly no interest in men. Perhaps she was being harsh on the man, maybe, like her, he had been washed up here and had lacked the means or money to escape.

“Have you not got something sooner?”

“There are always ships leaving for Jarator.”

“But, this time of the year they are busy.” Sophia provided what she expected would be Merton’s excuse.

“Yes, yes, that is the case.” Merton seemed surprised at Sophia’s knowledge. “There are berths, but on lower class ships, not what you would be used to travelling on.”

“I was brought here on the ‘Lance’, it is a warship. I think I can tolerate some second-rate merchant cog for a few days.”

“But I believe that you have two bondwomen assigned to you for protection. Captain Tricorus, I know, cannot leave before next week as the Ensign is now going through the procedure to make her a full bondwoman.”

“That was not supposed to happen until after they had taken me to Jarator.”

“But they were in Serafold and it soon became clear you would be here for some days.”

“No, they gave no thought to me. They have violated their contract. Bringing me to Serafold put me in more danger than if they had left me on an islet off Inicio.”

“Are you claiming they have broken their contract?” Merton asked, seemingly incredulous.

“Oh, I daren’t do that: I’ve seen how your legal system works here. There is no justice for anyone who is not a bondwoman. Just let that contract go, they’ll be too busy to notice that I have left.”

“I think you will find that those views are mistaken.”

“Humph! I am not going to argue with you Mr. Merton. Do your job, have a berth on any ship leaving here before noon tomorrow, even if it is a fishing vessel sailing to the Zeyev Islands.”

“If that is how you feel Miss de Herillosor, then you have a berth on the ‘Fair Winds’ tomorrow, at dawn.” Merton scribbled on various pieces of paper.

“Have the porters ready. I have three trunks and three personal bags.”

“Ah.”

“There is room for those on board this ship?”

“In the hold, I am sure.”

“Well, you can have the porters take two of the bags and two of the trunks now and have them stowed. The rest will come with me or is the cabin too small?”

“No, no, that is satisfactory.”

“Good, then we are resolved. Your fee?”

Merton named it and the amount of money which went to the captain of the ‘Fair Winds’. The fee was surprisingly small, but Sophia imagined that that reflected the quality of the ship she was sailing on. Was she being petulant? Was she going to rue having rushed off on the first ship she could take? No, she told herself, it was a question of her security and there seemed less risk leaving on a poor ship than remaining in this city any longer to get caught up in the perverse lusts and legal methods of the bondwomen.

The rest of the day passed quickly. By two hours after noon, Constance and Sabetha’s belongings had been put on board ship. Sophia had been down to see the vessel: it was small but seemed sea worthy. She could tell why it might not be the most popular ship to take because its cargo was a mixture of leathers and sheets of rubber which had a strong aroma. Sophia’s cabin was close to the captain’s and had windows, so the smell of the harbour and, she imagined, of the Latchader when they had left port, was far more dominant than that of the hold’s contents.

Sophia found that the stress and her efforts that morning left her tired and she was glad to find refuge back in her room. She was too weary to even consider how feeble that refuge had been in terms of protecting Amelia. However, she kept saying that she had avoided bondwomen and had even been careful to hire a closed sedan chair to take her to and from the dock so that she might not even catch the eye of a bondwoman by accident. However, she realised, that, in fact, she was looking forward to being aboard the ‘Fair Winds’ and finally reaching Jarator. With these thoughts in her mind she fell asleep even though it was only mid-afternoon.

As Sophia looked around she saw she was back in The Court. However, in a different position to where she had previously been. It was just as intimidating as it had been before. As she concentrated, she made out what the magistra was saying and it appeared that the case was coming to an end.

“… so, that seems clear and this case is over. Take her down to receive her sentence. I must say that her passivity is to be commended; she will make an excellent slave. This court session is ended.”

The Magistra was looking at her, and Sophia now realised that she was behind bars. Her mind panicked. How could it be her who was being sentenced? Where was Amelia? Sophia wondered if the court had changed its mind and had realised it had forgotten to question her. She had barely met Jacqueline or maybe this was about her working with Amelia. Whatever the case, it seemed too late now. Why had she been so passive? Did she somehow accept that the court’s judgement against her was correct? Suddenly, as the officials began filing from the court, Sophia realisrf the floor below her was lowering and in moments she was halfway through it. She looked around frantically for some escape, but there was no way back. Soon she was coming down into a brightly-lit room beneath the court chamber.

“Stop, stop this, let me go!” Sophia bellowed.

A court guard guided her forward and Sophia found that she could not struggle free. In front of her stood two women in slightly different outfits but in the same court colours. They smiled at Sophia and she was reminded of going for a dress fitting. Then she realised that effectively what it was but rather than the loose cloth dress of a lady-in-waiting, one held a black rubber catsuit and the other thigh-length boots.

“What is going to happen?” Sophia asked urgently.

“You know that. You are going to become a slave. Now take off those clothes, this is what you wear from now on.” The woman holding the catsuit said.

“No, this can’t be right.”

“You heard the court’s ruling. You stole a slave, you must replace her. You are now Phia.”

“No, this is not happening.”

“Collar her, that’ll calm her down; she’ll begin to want what we’re doing to her.” The woman with the boots said.

The Sophia felt something at her throat and her fingers reached up to feel a slippery collar around her neck that the guard had to have put there. She felt all will to struggle fade from her. Then as she looked up she saw her reflection and now she resembled Amelia, her body coated in skin-tight glistening black rubber.

“Excellent, just excellent. Now come to me, my Phia, my slave.”

It was the voice of a young woman and as she turned to it, Sophia saw the newcomer was Netali. She had no power but to walk towards her stepping on the sharp heels of her new boots.

Sophia woke with a start. Her heart was hammering and her breathing laboured. Her bed was soaked with sweat. She sat up with no idea of how much time had passed. It still seemed to be dark, but she had no desire to try to return to sleep. Slowly she crossed to the window and sat gazing out at the empty street beyond trying to recall happy memories from her youth until dawn came.

Sophia had been the first at breakfast and had left The Guesthouse as soon as she could hire porters to take the remainder of her luggage down to the dock. The captain of the ‘Fair Winds’ seemed pleased that she had arrived so promptly and in fact the ship left dock ahead of schedule. Sophia found her way to her cabin and sat gazing from its windows as they left the port quickly behind them. It was only when she could see only the sea whichever way she looked that Sophia felt relaxed. Then suddenly, tiredness took her and she fell into a deep sleep.

When Sophia awoke it was the next morning and the Zeyev Islands were already visible as misty grey shapes in the distance. Sophia realised that in the back of her mind there was a constant concern that some bondwoman ship would come in pursuit of her and she found increasingly that she was standing at the stern of the ship looking back the way they had come, nervous lest she should catch sight of a black sail. However, the journey proved to be uneventful with no sign of either bondwomen or pirates.

The ship arrived in Jarator early on the fourth day. It was unsurprising that no-one was waiting for Sophia to come ashore, but the captain of the ‘Fair Winds’ was as good as his word and unloaded all of Sophia’s luggage and one of his sailors even helped her hire a carter to ferry it all up to the Marquis of Jarator’s residence: an imposing building which stood on the nearest hill that came as a spur almost into the city itself. Sophia was met by the Matron of the house, Hester, the woman who managed all the ladies-in-waiting for her ladyship the Marquesa. The matron was little different from the one she had left behind in Kerans. At first she was put out at the loss of Sabetha and Constance, it seemed the Marchioness was rather intolerant of the challenges living in Jarator presented and had been eager to have ladies-in-waiting trained in the mother’s house. However, Matron Hester was heartened by the fact that their belongings had arrived with Sophia and within a couple of days she had found two replacement ladies-in-waiting from among the daughters of two of the town’s burgeoning merchant families who were soon kitted out in the two lost women’s things.

Life in Jarator was different to the capital, but the day-to-day activities of serving the Marchioness were pretty similar to how they had been serving her mother, especially as Sophia was still quite junior among the Marchioness’s ladies. Within days the events of the journey were just a memory made more distant by how strange they appeared now that she was back into a normal routine. Then, one morning, Matron Hester summoned Sophia.

“Sophia, there you are. How are you settling in to the Marquis’s household?”

“Erm, very well, Matron Hester, thank you.”

“Oh.”

The matron responded coolly as if it had not been the response she had expected.

“The house here will be closed up for some months. His lordship the Marquis has to travel inland, North to Fort Jaratinn the current limit of his territory; the Marchioness will accompany him and she cannot take all her household, just some select ladies.”

“Will I be loaned to another house?”

Sophia asked; it was a common procedure if a noblewoman was going to be absent from her property for some time.

“Perhaps, we are in negotiations, with, erm other people.”

Sophia began thinking through the great ladies established in Jarator. As yet there were not that many and of course none with a household the size of that of the Marquis, the leading noble in the region.

“Anyway,” Matron Hester continued, “don’t worry about that for now. Today I have a job for you. Do you know the bondwoman’s holding on Gasel Street?”

“Erm, I have seen it, from a distance.”

Sophia did not want to admit to what seemed now to be irrational concerns that meant that she always intentionally skirted the district.

“Good, good. Well, you have been asked there to answer some questions about what happened on your voyage here.”

“I thought that was all sorted out.”

“Oh, the Marchioness is satisfied, but these bondwomen, you know, they are very thorough. The bondwomen have given good service to both the Marchioness and the Duchess and we expect to use them again in the future. Remember, if it were not for them you’d either be a prisoner of pirates or marooned on one of the Rees Islands.” Matron Hester explained. “But I am sure it is only routine.” She added as some consolation, Sophia felt, as a result of seeing her concerned expression.

“Can they not come here and ask me any questions?”

“I am sure her ladyship’s Secretary would have asked that. I have been simply told you have to go to their building.”

It was clear that to someone like Matron Hester such a request from one of the Marchioness’s aides should be more than sufficient explanation for someone like Sophia.

“Here is the token. Show this at the front door and they will take you to whoever they have dealing with this. I am sure it will not take long.”

“Yes, Matron Hester.”

Sophia took the proffered token which was a bronze disc with a hole in the centre through which was laced shiny black cords. As she walked from the matron’s room and through the house towards the main gates, Sophia told herself that her concerns were unfounded. Though she had seen rather alarming things in Serafold, she sought to convince herself that nothing like that could happen in the streets of an ordinary, well-established town like Jarator. Sophia took a palanquin to the bondwomen’s headquarters. It resembled some kind of fort. That style, however, was not out of step with the other buildings on the street which generally held the offices of Jarator’s own military forces and various mercenary companies.

As she stepped down from the palanquin and paid the bearers, one of the heavy wooden doors was opened for Sophia by the bondwoman on guard duty. Sophia stepped into a gloomy lobby lit by lanterns even at this time of day. With a shudder she was reminded of the architecture of so many of the buildings in Serafold, particularly the courthouse. There seemed to be no-one about, but, as she walked forwards she heard footsteps and looked up to see a familiarly dressed bondwomen.

“Sophia?”

“Sophia de Herillosor, lady-in-waiting of the third order for the Marchioness of Jarator.”

Sophia responded feeling that she had on to hold to some sort of pride in the face of the peculiar way in which the bondwomen ran their affairs. The bondwoman inclined her head.

“Will you follow me, please?”

The bondwomen asked in a tone that gave no indication about how she felt about Sophia’s response. It irritated Sophia a little but she imagined that such behaviour was how the bondwomen dealt with diplomatically challenging situations. Sophia found that her irritation faded quickly and as she walked behind the bondwoman her fascination with the glistening tight clothes she wore returned. Sophia found herself walking closer than would be usual, just to hear the gentle squeal of the rubber as the woman moved and to take in a little of its aroma. Sophia was rather shocked at her own behaviour and slowed to establish a little more distance between them. Soon however the bondwoman stopped before a door.

“Lieutenant-Major Tricorus is awaiting you.” The bondwoman knocked and opened the door.

“Erm, thank you.”

Sophia said and stepped in. The door was closed behind her, but Sophia was pretty oblivious, she was focused on the woman sitting in a bowl chair before her, it was Anya from the journey.

“Erm, good morning, erm, Lieutenant, erm, Major, Tricorus.”

“Sophia, it is so good to see you.” Anya said warmly, rising and indicating the matching chair across from her own. Between them stood a polished wooden trunk.

“Erm, thank you, but I will remain standing.”

Sophia replied nervously. After what she had seen in Serafold she was concerned that whatever a bondwoman would suggest would be some kind of trap. Her uncertainty was doubled, however, by her dawning recognition that not only did she feel a growing thrill to be among bondwoman again, but that some part of her yearned to be trapped in some way and not permitted to leave here.

“Matron Hester said that you had questions about what happened on the voyage.” Sophia pressed on, hoping to be able to keep this formal and that it would be finished with as soon as possible.

Anya smiled. “She was mistaken in that. My message made it clear what I wished to discuss with you, but I imagine that that would have been something your matron would have found difficult to explain.”

“So there is no need for me to be here. You know all that happened on the ‘Tanith’ better than me.”

“Perhaps. However, there are some questions I still need to ask, these may be different questions to what you might expect, they may though, quite possibly, be questions that you have been asking yourself.”

“Yes?”

Sophia was curious but a little reassured. All of this seemed to be moving into the realms of an intellectual exercise.

“Yes, let me explain: you are in a rare position, usually if a bondwoman sees a woman she wants to enslave then she just takes her.”

“You want to take me? Enslave me?” Sophia blurted, all her fears rushing back at once.

Anya laughed. “No, I told you, for me, for now, one slave is enough. However, there is another bondwoman without a slave who is interested in you.”

“Netali.” The name seemed obvious.

“You know it. Well, that makes my job easier. She will not take you. She is a new bondwoman and so adheres to our rules. You are free for her to take because her contract to protect you ended the moment you arrived in Jarator. However, she feels it would be dishonourable to have found you while protecting you and then snatch you once the contract is ended. So, I am offering you the choice of whether you will make yourself available to Netali or whether you will walk away and I will console her that she can find many other women in the world who could come to serve her.”

Sophia took in Anya’s words then looked sharply at her. “You’re suggesting I offer myself to Netali to become her slave?”

“Not quite, but yes, it would have that effect. With the majority of freewomen I know would not even consider making this suggestion, but you are different. Sharee noticed it first, how you looked at her. Most freewomen do not even ever notice a slave and some that do, simply disapprove. With you it was different. There was a curiosity in you from the start, almost a jealousy of Sharee.” Anya walked slowly around to Sophia as if signalling a shift in her argument. “Do you know why more ladies-in-waiting become enslaved by bondwomen than daughters of merchants or craftsmen?”

Sophia shook her head.

“Because there are so many parallels: you may be of noble birth but you are effectively no better than servants, serving strong women; your lives are as constrained as that of a slave – how you dress, where you go, the tasks you must complete. You are already halfway there to being a slave but slave to a woman who will never love you.”

“You are not the first to have drawn out the similarities.”

“No, so, surely that suggests it is an accurate picture.”

Sophia wanted to protest that there were many differences between a lady-in-waiting in her flowing robes and a bondwoman’s slave collared and leashed like a pet, but for some reason she did not find the strength to make these points.

Anya had returned to her position directly opposite Sophia across the trunk. “There was further evidence in your case. Do you remember when we were imprisoned in the cage on the ‘Tanith’?”

“Yes, I remember, and I seemed to enjoy the images Netali put into my mind. Is that what gave her the wrong impression about me? You have to realise how non-physical ladies-in-waiting are, our bodies are concealed like those of all noblewoman and to suddenly have that radically different sensation thrust upon one, me, well, it had the excitement of novelty.”

“But that says more than you realise. No-one there bar me and Netali would have recognised it. Even at full concentration I find it a challenge to make a woman feel she is dressed fully like a sex-slave and Netali has years less experience than me. The fact that she could do it so fully told us that not only were you open to her approaches but to all that such approaches meant for you. Oh yes, you might deny it on the surface, but deep within you, possibly even hidden from yourself is the desire to be Netali’s slave. Open the trunk.”

Sophia’s mind was a chaos of thoughts. She could not deny she had enjoyed the sensations that Netali had put into her mind nor the affinity she had felt for the young bondwoman, but did that make her want to be that woman’s slave? If she had ever thought of it, Sophia had envisaged her future as service to the Duchess or more recently to the Marchioness and sometime in the future, marriage to a petty courtier either in Jarator or back in Kerans. Anya was indicating a very different path for her.

Without thinking, Sophia followed Anya’s command and opened the trunk. It was dark inside and she reached her fingers in to find what was there. They brushed over something slippery and with a distinct aroma. In that instant Sophia realised this had to be the catsuit of a sex-slave.

“This is erm, mine, for me; it’s for me?” Sophia stuttered barely able to comprehend what was happening.

Sophia’s legs felt weak and she realised that her sex was throbbing and wet. It was if the option being presented to her in itself was bringing her a kind of sexual maturity. Sophia realised that that was nothing strange, for if she accepted what was being offered then her key function would be as a sexual being.

“In a third of an hour Lieutenant Netali Rebtasj will be here…”

“Lieutenant?”

“Yes, she is a full bondwoman now. The ship she arrived on today was the first in which she was on guard duty alone: bodyguard to a merchant’s bookkeeper. She is to report to me this morning and then we will leave here. Whether you have left before then or you leave with us, that is your choice. If you go now, Netali will not know you have been here and I will give the trunk to her for her own use if she happens to find a woman she chooses to enslave in Jarator.”

“So, she might still encounter me in the city?”

“Yes, but she will not act: as I have said she feels honour bound not to take you. However, if you are having fantasies of her trapping you on some street corner, then give up the game playing and remain here. If you are beginning to understand what you and Netali both need, then stay and show that you are not denying the truth.”

“What do I have to do?”

“That depends on what outcome you want.” Anya continued with the ambivalent responses, clearly not wishing to pressure Sophia in one direction or the other; possibly even uncertain if putting forward these options had been the correct thing to do.

“No, I meant, what do I have to do if I am going to go with Netali?” Sophia had little thought to do that, but it gave her a strange tingle to hear what that route would involve.

“Well, knowing her well, I have imagined that you being here and even saying that you wanted her to take you would be insufficient, she would still feel it is wrong. She is not even certain that you are attracted to women, but if you showed that you were embracing the way of the bondwomen then I am sure she could not deny you going the whole way.” Now Anya seemed willing to reinforce the option that it seemed she believed Sophia was tending towards.

“And that means … putting on these slave clothes?” Sophia was certain of the answer before she asked, but it gave her some delicious pleasure to toy with Anya this way; to hear the full extent of what was implied outlined.

“Yes.”

Sophia felt herself quivering; her mind was a turmoil of thoughts. She had not really ever thought through what being attracted to a woman meant. All ladies-in-waiting giggled over handsome men who visited the houses in which they served and some of the more confident would make ribald remarks, but that was a long way from thinking about a relationship with one. How could she tell who she was truly attracted to or even whether she was fit to have sex with anyone? What she could not deny was how aroused she felt standing here hearing the words that Anya was saying to her. Did that not signal something? Was it right to deny what her body seemed to be yearning for or was it sinful to yield to such urges?

Sophia realised one thing though, that this was probably the only time in her life that she would be in a position to see what it felt like to wear the rubber catsuit of a sex-slave. She had had flashbacks of the sensation that Netali had put into her mind at random moments since then and she knew she would regret it if she did not see how close that illusion of such a delightful sensation came to the reality.

“Erm, I guess it would be pointless to ask for you to look away while I change.”

“Of course; your body will be visible to all once you wear the rubber. That is part of what becoming a sex-slave entails. No-one will mistake you for anything else. You will never again wear undergarments, the rubber will be your second skin and your body’s most intimate parts will be visible and accessible to your owner in a matter of moments.”

Sophia felt her mind was fogged. She was barely taking notice of what Anya was telling her, it all seemed too distant from her; all a little too technical for her to take in. What she knew was that her body ached to feel the real rubber against her skin and however inhibited she felt, her mind was finding it difficult to resist that urge. Sophia tried to clear her thoughts but as she did she found that she had already removed the over-sized hat and was undoing the bodice of her dress. In moments she was unwinding the wrap around her breasts, shedding herself of the skirt of her dress and then the petticoat. She moved as if in her own chamber, seemingly oblivious of Anya standing close to her. Sophia stooped to unlace the ribbons of her court shoes, and remove her hose, then she was naked.

Sophia was oblivious to how aroused her breasts and pussy were, but they throbbed as she reached for the trunk and lifted out the glistening catsuit. She found it difficult to comprehend what it would truly be like to have her body covered with the shiny rubber. Her mind now seemed filled with a single purpose, to slide her body into this catsuit. She lowered it to the floor and slid first one leg and then the other into the shiny material. The interior was slippery allowing the rubber to be drawn easily up her body so that within moments of her stepping into the catsuit she pulled it into place around her bum. Then one arm and the other were inside and Sophia gasped at the sensation as the skin of her arms, back and shoulders were encased; the sleeves ended in gloves and so her hands became as black and shiny as the rest of her body was becoming. Unable to do anything else, Sophia reached for the hand-made zip and slid it closed as quickly as she could, sealing the rubber tight against her right to the top of her neck.

Sophia was impatient to enjoy her rubber-clad body but knew the sensation would not be complete until she stood in the boots. She pulled them quickly from the trunk and guided her legs, rubber coated from the tip of her toes right to her hips into the long boots before zipping them shut. Now Sophia stood in a way that she had never done before, her feet raised up by the long sharp heels of her thigh boots of the shiniest patent leather to match her polished rubber.

“Yes, yess, yes, this is soo good.” Sophia found it difficult to speak; she felt as if her entire body was being caressed simultaneously by a dozen lovers.

Sophia looked on herself as somehow a different creature, sleek and black. Her body looked better than she could ever have imagined. Anya appeared a little disconcerted as Sophia stood there almost absent-mindedly running her hands over her rubber clad breasts and daring to strong closer and closer to her sex.

“You realise you are not simply being given these clothes, but what that implies? In a few minutes, maybe just moments Netali will be here and if you are still dressed like that she will take you for her slave. Have I misread things so badly? Did you never feel anything for Netali? Was it just this physical sensation you craved? Are ladies-in-waiting so deprived? If you want to retain your freedom, your status as a citizen, you need to get out of that rubber now.” Anya spoke with her voice rising with a mixture of doubt and urgency.

Anya reached forward to take the catsuit zip. “There’s time, you’ve felt the sensation, let it go.”

Sophia stepped away from Anya unwilling to give up what she was feeling.

“If you stay dressed like that, you will become a sex-slave. Do you understand?”

Sophia realised that she would pay any price to feel as she did at the moment and that there was no way she was going to yield up this catsuit.

“Lieutenant-Major.”

Anya turned suddenly as the door opened to reveal Netali. Taking in the scene she walked slowly into the room as if suddenly concussed.

“What is this? What is happening?”

“Well, I knew that you had objections of honour to taking Sophia but I thought I would ask her how she felt. I had believed she had affections for you and that if that was true, getting her to dress as your slave would demonstrate to both of you what the best course was.”

“Wow, she looks stunning, better than I could have even ever imagined.” Netali stepped forward as if entranced by the vision of Sophia.

“I fear she is just drawn to the sensation the rubber provides, there seems no feeling for you. However, to be sure, you must test her, command her and see if she responds. Otherwise we are going to have to find a way of quenching this fire I have stoked up.”

“Sophia.” Netali said firmly, seeming to grasp the situation immediately.

Sophia felt something break through her reverie of pleasure, something even more demanding on her attention. She turned to look at Netali fully and, in an instant, ran through a range of emotions from embarrassment at being so dressed before Netali to being pleased that she had at last been so exposed to her. Her thoughts went further and quickly she found a real a desire to please, even to obey, Netali. Sophia recognised that she was motivated to do this by desire for Netali’s praise or even just her recognition. Something about Netali commanded her in a way that Anya never could. Sophia realised that her body still ached as it had previously to wear the rubber, but, now, the urge was to do it in Netali’s presence.

Sophia stepped calmly forwards Netali, surprised how feline her body now seemed. She stood before Netali, her head bowed but her body exposed as if soliciting comments on her changed appearance. Netali’s response came as a touch which stroked up Sophia’s side, brushed past her breast and rested on her chin, lifting it so their eyes met. With this action Sophia felt so weak, yet so full of strength. In that moment Sophia finally understood the paths set out before her, and that, despite her confusion, despite the delight of the physical sensations, there had only been one route for her from the moment she had entered the room.

As Netali’s lips pressed against her own, Sophia accepted the kiss as the first of a slave, a bondwoman’s sex-slave being kissed by her owner; her mistress. Sophia was passive as Netali reached up and unpinned Sophia’s hair and let it fall down her glossy back. Sophia felt such conflicting emotions, that somehow she was being liberated just at the moment she was giving up her freedom. She realised that Netali would not only take her citizenship and replace it with ownership, but she would also lift away all responsibilities from Sophia, all everyday concerns would become those of her mistress. ‘Mistress’ – thinking the word staggered Sophia, to have a mistress was such a radical concept, but one that Sophia found she was surprisingly hungry to have feature in her life. She increasingly desired to have someone, no not someone, a particular person: Netali, to whom she could show ultimate loyalty, complete devotion. Anya’s words about the owner being the sunlight in the eyes of the slave echoed in Sophia’s mind and she felt that with Netali here, the sun had begun to rise. Sophia realised that Anya, even if she had collared and leashed on her, never could have enslaved Sophia in entirety the way that Netali could do with just a gesture.

“No, I was not wrong. The catsuit, the boots, they excite her, but it is you that fills her now.” Anya smiled as she clearly begun to see what Sophia herself was realising.

“You do not give yourself enough credit ’Major. You are experienced at such things.” Netali snatched her gaze from Sophia to address her superior, “You have read this situation so right, far better than either Sophia or I could have done. You are correct, for us to have walked away from this opportunity would have been a mistake and that in a short time we would both have come to regret it.”

Sophia had no need to speak, her mistress, her Netali, was saying what she was thinking. She felt a gratitude for how perceptive Anya had been, but that gratitude was dim beside what she felt for Netali in accepting her.

“She’s ready: take her fully now and you’ll walk from here the owner of a slave.”

Sophia had no will, nor willingness, to struggle. Distantly, some part of her protested that she was about to lose all independence; that her name and identity were about to be stripped from her forever. However, a larger part of her was eager for this because she would be handing herself to Netali. The bondwoman reached for the short zip that covered Sophia’s sex. There was nothing that Sophia could do, indeed would want to do, to stop Netali exposing it. As Netali lent closer the tip of her dildo butted against Sophia and she knew that in moments it would enter her. Sophia was far from being so naïve as not to know what it indicated, in fact she welcomed it. She knew many ladies-in-waiting drew pleasure from the handle of a brush or a mirror; the more daring from the fingers of their fellow ladies, but this was going to be pleasure thrust upon her by the woman who was to own her mind and body.

Gently Netali steered Sophia back against the wall and then the hard, slippery dildo slid deep into her. Sophia gasped as it entered, though not because it chafed: her pussy was sodden with juice and, if her clothes had not now been of rubber, they would have shown a widening patch of wetness. She gasped because the sensation of the rock-hard member thrust into her sent a jolt of pleasure through her body that had been building in its arousal for many minutes now. The sensation was doubled as Netali pressed her shapely body, itself clad in the so-sexy rubber Sophia was coming to love, hard against the woman she was enslaving. Sophia’s body needed no further prompting. Her vision was filled with a blinding light, her limbs lost all strength and she was only kept upright by Netali’s strength. Orgasm pulsed out from her core, sweeping away so much of what she had been.

“Lymala, my slave, your collar name,” Netali spoke breathlessly, but with force, into her new slave’s ear, “your only name is Lymala.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Lymala said, loving the sound of the words and everything they signalled. From that instant Lymala became the property of Lieutenant Netali Restaj and in that moment she slid so willingly into the life of a rubber-clad sex-slave.

Netali stepped back and took the collar that Anya handed her. Lymala bowed her head submissively as was appropriate for what she was now. As the shiny black collar clicked shut around her neck, the formal recognition of her slave status was established; now she could not be mistaken for anything else bar a sex-slave: not a citizen and having with no rights, simply a valuable possession of her mistress. Lymala raised her head to look at Netali as she clipped her leash to the collar.

“Come, Netali, bring your slave, we need to go. The ship for Kerans leaves in an hour.”

“Yes, ma’am.

Lymala said nothing; that was proper. As her mistress led her from the room, she strutted on her high, sharp heels, finding quickly that if she let her bum sway she could move as quickly as needed in them. She stepped proudly into the street and followed her mistress into the waiting palanquin and inside finding it natural to lounge at her owner’s feet.

“Instruct her Netali, her sexual hunger will be growing and it will now stay high forever. If you cannot please her for the moment, allow her to do it herself. You do not want an irritable slave.”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

“Lymala, pleasure yourself.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

Lymala realised that mistress Anya had been correct. She eased down the zip over her pussy with relief and thrust her glossy fingers into her still sodden sex. She turned so that she could gaze up adoringly at her mistress. Her beauty was stunning, the way her rubber showed her perfect breasts, the scent of her body in this enclosed space were all a delight to Lymala. Even these bare things were enough to have her riding on a plateau of orgasm. She was coming to realise that things passed quickly for a sex-slave as her mind and senses spent so much time spiralling in pleasure.

“Mistress may I lick you, caress you?”

“Thank you, erm, Lymala, not at present. When we are in our cabins, then.”

“Yes, Mistress.” Lymala glowed as she thought on the coming pleasures of being used by her mistress.

Soon they were at the docks and Lymala devotedly followed Netali up the gangplank. As she walked she found that she loved the way the rubber squealed around her body. She was very conscious that this tight glossy coating that was all that covered her naked body. She found herself brushing her erect nipples and even the lips of her sex, covered with the slippery rubber. She glanced over her shoulder at her bum and found herself delighting in it. With every step she was more confident in the high-heeled boots. She preened as she stepped on board, proud that all could see that she was being led by her mistress.

A man was standing at the head of the gangplank and Lymala felt she should recognise him, but then again, his identity was totally unimportant, it was not an issue for someone like her, she left such things to Mistress.

“Good Morning, Captain…”

“Lieutenant-Major.”

“Congratulations, Lieutenant-Major Tricorus and …” The man prompted.

“Lieutenant Resarj.”

“Congratulations on your success, lieutenant.”

“Thank you, erm, Captain Othal.”

“And welcome to your, er, your wonderful slave…”

“She’s Lymala.”

“Yes, of course. Your slave, Lieutenant-Major, is already caged below. Your weapons are where you requested too.”

“Thank you. Well, we will not delay you any longer. Here’s to an uneventful trip.”

“Erm, yes, this time, I trust that will be the case. And, anyway, if it is not, I know we can rely on you to guard us.”

Lymala followed Mistress, oblivious to the activity on deck. She paid no notice to the three young ladies gossiping as she and Mistress passed. In minutes she was below decks and taken to the cage that held Sharee. Her fellow sex-slave stood up as Lymala entered the room and simpered in clear pleasure that she was to be joined.

“Sharee, you know Lymala.”

“Yes, mistress. I am so pleased she made the choice to become your slave, to become just like me. I knew she would make a wonderful slave.” Sharee said with clear pleasure.

“Thank you.” Lymala acknowledged the compliment while unashamedly running her eyes over Sharee’s body as tightly held as her own.

“Mistress Anya says you are to instruct Lymala in all that she should know. You are free to enjoy each other.”

“Thank you, mistress Netali.”

“Thank you Mistress.” Lymala responded, her head buzzing with the thoughts of all that travelling with Sharee would mean.

Netali unlocked the cage and led Lymala in. She tied her slave’s leash to a ring set into the side of it, next to Sharee’s. Lymala fell to a kneel, having already learnt the proper way she should be before her mistress. Netali bent over to kiss her then left the cage, locking it behind her. As the bolt turned, Lymala shuddered in pleasure at another sign that she was a valued possession.

As Netali walked from sight, Sharee indicated for Lymala to recline on the pile of broad cushions in the corner of the cage. Lymala knew that speech was only used by slaves when it was necessary, sounds and gestures were more appropriate for them. She lay on her side on the cushions facing Sharee, feeling a real affinity with her, and she realised, sexual arousal. Of course, she served Mistress but playing with another slave was not only permissible, it was useful for her developing her skills as a sex-slave. Lymala was conscious of how little she knew and desired to learn all that she could so that she could bring real pleasure to Mistress.

Now Sharee slowly eased her hand between Lymala’s thighs and she spread them, realising that her first lesson had begun.

“Your Mistress will want you to lick her pussy. It is a skill that can take a lifetime to develop. I have only been a slave ... well, for some short time, but I have been taught well in Kerans and you and me we can practice together, yes?”

Lymala nodded and smiled realising that the lessons would be pleasurable as well as useful.

“Good. I will start and then you practice on me.”

Lymala allowed Sharee to slide down the zip over her pussy, its teeth painstakingly stitched in place by hand, down. Lymala’s pussy was wet, but Sharee proceeded to stroke it more awake before butting her thumb against Lymala’s clitoris to heighten her sexual sense further. Then Sharee closed in, her forehead rubbing the clitoris, her tongue lapping at the pussy lips, long rasping strokes that soon stunned Lymala’s senses and quickly left her yelping and grunting her delight. Released after the orgasm and now knowing for certain how good such attention could be she began returning the treat to Sharee. Trying to mimic what Sharee had done, Lymala licked at her pussy lips and sucked on the head of her clitoris. The grunts, moans and panted directions led her to improve, until she felt Sharee shudder and fall back gasping.

“Excellent, you will be a good slave.” Sharee declared as she recovered.

The two slaves lay for some while before reaching out to play with each other’s nipples. Then Sharee began the next lesson, pressing her pussy down on Lymala’s face while she thrust her head down on Lymala’s own pussy lips. Now Lymala learnt subtly, how to tongue a woman so as to keep her on the edge of orgasm until she begged for it. So, the new slave and the one who had begun her path to the glossy bondage, passed their time.

“Lymala.”

Lymala snapped awake. Sharee knelt up too. They both slid shut their zips to ensure the entirety of their bodies were covered with the rubber that indicated what they were.

“Yes, Mistress.” Lymala replied, stroking down her hair.

Netali gave no other commands, but entered the cage and untied Lymala’s leash. Lymala rose and Mistress led her out, locking the cage door behind them. Then she led Lymala to her cabin. Slumping back on the bunk, Netali thrust her legs apart and undid the zip over her pussy. Lymala needed no command and lowered herself to her knees, pleased that she had an opportunity to show all that she had learned. She eased her way between Mistress’s glossy thighs to the curving lips of her sex. Her tongue began its work, enjoying the taste of Mistress’s skin and juices. Lymala knew she had found her role, the job for which she was suited. She looked up at Mistress’s body stretching above her, loving her rubber-clad body, its strength, its intelligence, its beauty. Lymala knew she would strive to be the best sex-slave she could and lapped at Mistress’s pussy with renewed vigour, delighting as the first grunts of pleasure came.