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|Storycodes: Solo-F; F+/f; D/s; club; auction; latex; catsuit; collar; display; gag; toys; tease; enslave; climax; cage; transport; cons/reluct; X||
|Promotion Coated Solo-F; F+/f; D/s; club; auction; latex; catsuit; collar; display; gag; toys; tease; enslave; climax; cage; transport; cons/reluct; X|
Emma approached the office door with trepidation. The CFO, Miss Mercier, had asked her to stop by for a moment in that way that seemed more a summons than a request. The young accountant had only been at the firm a few months and was nearing the end of her probationary period. She liked her job and had striven to make the best impression, but it had not been without difficulty. Miss Mercier was a strict boss who insisted on only the best from her staff, not only in their work but in all aspects of office life, even to dress code and deportment. No sneakers and jeans in Mercier’s department! Office attire was the norm, and there were no “casual Fridays”.
Staff were expected to be proactive, assert themselves and stand up to every challenge, which had been especially hard for the mild and meek Emma. She was able to keep pace with the others, but it had been a draining effort. There had been days when she had been given instructions that seemed vague to the point of non-existence. She did her best, but a few times she misinterpreted Miss Mercier’s intent and found herself cringing under her boss’ cold stare, humiliated by a brief, quiet yet cutting comment that left her feeling down for days, wishing silently that Miss Mercier would simply tell her what to do.
Now, she was at Miss Mercier’s office door, which was always opened slightly but closed enough that Emma could not enter without knocking first. “Come!” said her boss disinterestedly from within.
Emma stepped inside and stood at the door, feet together, hands clasped, eyes down, trying desperately to hide her nervousness. “You wished to see me, Ma’am?”
Miss Mercier ignored her for a long moment, busying herself with some papers as Emma stood in place, humiliated. Finally she looked up from her desk and, as if to notice Emma standing there, said, “Ah, Emma. Do come in. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a matter of some concern to me. Close the door.“ Emma did so and stood as before in front of Miss Mercier’s desk, not daring to sit in one of the guest chairs without invite.
Miss Mercier leaned back in her leather executive office chair and examined her employee. “A bit of a plain Jane”, she thought, “but pretty and petite, and easily ordered about. She’ll do.”
Then she spoke: “Emma, I’ve been reviewing your progress since you joined the firm, and I’m a bit concerned.” She watched the blood drain from her employee’s face as she continued. “You work is certainly adequate, but here at Mercier and Noir we expect a bit more from out staff. Up to this point you have kept largely to yourself, not exactly what we might call a ‘team player’. You eat lunch by yourself, you don’t go for dinks after work and you are not the most brilliant conversationalist. Some of the staff have made mention of what might be mistaken for an attitude of superiority, that you are better than them.”
The meek accountant became nervous and flustered at this. Glancing up in surprise at the cool, staring visage of her superior, she just as quickly cast her gaze downward again and blushed furiously. “Oh, no, Ma’am, that’s not it at all! I – I just want to focus on my work, to do a good job! I’m trying, I really am! I’ve just never been good with people.” Then, a little more quietly, “I only want to please you, Ma’am.”
Emma was too busy staring a hole into the floor to notice the smile that flashed briefly across Miss Mercier’s face. “I believe you, Emma. But we’re going to have to see some proof of that, and that’s why you’re here right now. I have something I want you to do for me. It’s entirely up to you, but I think it would be in your favor to do it, seeing as you are at the end of your employee probationary period.” She let that hang there for a second, as Emma extrapolated the implications of her refusal.
“What, what would you like me to do?”
“As you know, our firm takes great pride in its sponsorship of many charities. One of these charities is staging an event on Saturday in a hotel downtown. The theme is going to be a charity auction. I’m sure you have heard of these. The participants get up on a runway and the attendees bid for them. They become the ‘slave’ of the winner for the evening. It’s all in good fun, and the proceeds go to a worthy cause. I was told this morning that one of the participants has had to cancel due to some emergency, and we need someone to fill in for her. I want you to be her substitute.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she looked up, the “request” taking her off-guard. “Me? Oh, oh, I don’t know, I mean –“
Miss Mercier stood up and walked slowly towards Emma until the much taller woman was nearly looming over her. “Emma, I know this is short notice, but I would consider it a personal pleasure if you were to do this for me. After all, I am on the charity board, and the organizer of this event. You will not disappoint me, will you, Emma?” The question came out more as a statement.
Feeling her future was on the line, Emma nodded demurely. “I’ll do it, Miss Mercier. Ma’am.”
Smiling pleasantly, Miss Mercier took an envelope from her desk. “Wonderful. Now, as this is a fancy dress party, you’ll need to have your measurements taken to ensure the outfit we choose fits you properly. I’ve arranged for Faith and the girls to do the measuring in their office following this meeting. The boutique that is providing the outfits is of the highest quality. I’m sure they can whip you up, something, in time for the event.”
She handed the envelope to Emma. “Take this. It has the address and time where you shall report for the show. Do not be late. Now, back to work. And don’t worry, Emma. I have a feeling you will be quite a prize.”
Emma retreated from Miss Mercier’s office and made her way down the hall to the office of Faith, Hope and Charity, Miss Mercier’s three “special assistants”. Emma wasn’t sure what it was they did – in fact, no one seemed to know. A few people made mention of some vague “special projects” group, but details were scarce. All they knew was that they seemed to have the run of the place, and could meet with their otherwise permanently-unavailable boss at a moment’s notice.
“Faith, Hope and Chastity?” Emma had mused aloud in one of her rare workmate chats. Her mishearing of Charity’s name was greeted by titters and giggles. “Hardly!” “Oh, that’s rich”, etc.
Emma didn’t get the joke. “Aren’t those the Virtues?”
One of the other women getting coffee at the time snorted derisively. “Vultures is more like it! Ever see the way they seem to size up some of the people around here? I don’t know what they’re on about, but I’m glad to steer clear of that lot.” Emma had heeded that advice, though she had seen them pass her cube regularly. One time she had looked up to see Faith, seemingly the leader of the three, staring at her with a devouring look. Emma had snapped her eyes back to her workstation, suddenly flustered, pretending to review the spreadsheet she had been adjusting while waiting for a predatory pounce that never came.
And now, here she was, knocking on the door to their office. There was the briefest of pauses before three cheerful female voices in unison loudly sang, “Come in!’
The seemingly welcoming chorus nearly sent Emma scurrying back to her cubicle, but she had promised Miss Mercier her compliance and so twisted the knob and opened the door. The room she entered was dominated by a large, semicircular desk, around which the three “special assistants” sat at surprisingly spare and tidy workstations. Emma would have mistaken the image for some designer furniture advert, so un-lived-in did it look.
The three women were all looking at Emma with big smiles, but it was Faith who spoke for them. “Emma, how wonderful! Do come in. We heard all about how generous you were to fill in for our missing girl.”
“R-really?” Emma was confused – she had only assented a minute or two before.
The three stood, and Faith came around to clasp Emma by the shoulders, the others standing behind her. “Yes, and may we say how thrilled we are to have you in the show. Now, we have to move quickly – there are only a few short days until the event, and we have to have you fitted for your costume. Miss Mercier did explain that this is a fancy dress event, I’m sure. Let’s get this suit off you so we can get your measurements.” Without hesitation Faith undid the buttons of Emma’s jacket, while Hope pulled it off from behind and Charity locked the office door. Faith then unbuttoned Emma’s blouse while Hope unzipped her skirt. Soon both were removed, leaving the timid accountant blushing from head to toe in her underwear and heels.
Hope and Charity stood to either side of Faith, as all three women took in the sight of their charge. Hope let out a low whistle. “Wow, not bad! You would never know, the way she dresses. These brown business suits of hers have got to go.”
Charity smiled. “Oh, I love her bra and panties, matching red satin! So daring, and red is definitely your color, hun. Matches how you blush.”
Faith took a mock officious tone. “All right, we have work to do. Ladies, measure!” The three produced measuring tapes and, with a simultaneous flourish that reminded Emma of three murderesses producing piano wire, leapt upon her. It didn’t help that Faith’s first measure was of Emma’s neck, and it drew a pathetic little “meep!” from her. They moved in a flash, like professionals, and called out the results to one another but didn’t seem to write anything down. In a minute it was over, and Hope and Charity were redressing Emma while Faith stood back slightly, nodding approvingly.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it, dear? There’s no time for a proper fitting on such short notice, but the designers are top-notch and we’re sure it will fit you like a glove.” This last bit seemed to amuse the three highly. “Now, back to work, and we’ll take care of the rest. Thanks again!” And with that, they ushered the bewildered accountant out of the room and slammed the door behind her. Emma walked back to her cube in a daze, wondering what had happened and what she had got herself into.
The night of the auction, Emma arrived a bit earlier than required at the hotel ballroom and was directed to the dressing room, where a trim, middle-aged woman with close-cropped silver hair, leather pants and an oversized punk rock tee shirt was holding court amidst a flurry of activity. Not knowing what to do, Emma stood to the side until, several minutes later, the action took a lull and she was noticed.
“Can I help you?” the silver-haired woman asked directly.
“I-I’m Emma Chaton, from the office. Miss Mercier asked me to fill in for one of the contestants tonight.”
The woman’s face brightened a bit at the name. “Emma yes, we’ve been expecting you. And punctual, too. That’s a novelty.” She shot a look at one of the hairdressers, who stuck his tongue out at her in reply. “I’m Jane Pistola, the stage manager. Miss Mercier left instructions for us to take extra-special care of you this evening.”
Emma brightened at this, but also felt strangely embarrassed, being the focus of Miss Mercier’s attention. “Oh, that’s, that’s very nice of her.”
“It most certainly is, my dear. We have your outfit all ready for you, once you’ve gone through makeup and hairstyling. Enrico will be seeing to all that, won’t you?” She put her arm out and pulled aside the tongue-wagger, a tall, dark and handsome twenty-something man in a bright purple suit.
Enrico gave Emma a professional once-over. “Hmm, I think we can do something here. Come, sweetie, step into my lair.” With that, he led Emma to one of the styling stations and waved towards an adjacent changing room. “Now, duck in there and take off your jacket, top and bra. Then come back here and have a seat.”
Emma went a shade of purple that competed with Enrico’s jacket. “Take off my clothes?! But, you’ll see me naked!”
Enrico gave her the Spock eyebrow. “Trust me, honey, it’s not an issue with me. Go ahead, quick as bunnies! We have a lot of work to do.” Emma went in after a moment’s hesitation and undressed. Timid and topless, she came out and gingerly sat in the salon chair, relieved when Enrico draped a large cloth over her front, then went to work.
Nearly an hour later, Jane came to check on their progress. Enrico was fussing with Emma’s hair while a makeup artist was adding some finishing touches. “Well, Enrico? How did she turn out?”
“See for yourself!” With a dramatic flourish he spun the chair to face Jane, who visibly gasped at the transformation. Where once had been a mousy, drab accountant was now a vixen worthy of a Cosmo cover. Red, pouty lips and dramatic cheekbones sat beneath dazzling, ice-blue eyes, all framed by a leonine swept ‘do of shoulder-length, chestnut hair. This was a woman whose beauty could command armies, were she not so afraid of her own shadow.
“Well, Miss Chaton, you do clean up pretty, don’t you?” said Jane, and the makeup artist smiled inexplicably. “What is it, Carrie?”
“Her name is Chaton? You know that means ‘kitten’ in French.”
Jane was most amused at this. “Oh, how perfect! That’s going to be your name for tonight, then. Our little Kitten!” The three nodded and agreed with this.
Emma shifted uneasily in her chair. All this attention was overwhelming her. Enrico could sense her unease, and spun the chair back so Emma was staring at herself in the brightly-lit mirror. “Look at yourself, Kitten. You’re gorgeous!” Emma stared at her reflection and was amazed. She’d never seen herself all dolled up before, not recently and certainly not like this. It seemed like another person was staring back at her, someone too beautiful to be her.
Jane clapped twice to break the spell. “Now, now, we don’t have time to play games. The guests are already arriving and the show starts in half an hour. We need to get you dressed, pronto! Carrie, give our Kitten a hand with her outfit, will you?”
“Will do!” She turned to Emma and quickly pulled the cape off her. Emma squeaked and pulled her hands up to cover her naked breasts. “Come on, Kitten! Time to get you dressed. Your outfit is in the changing booth. Go ahead in, drop the rest of your clothes and we’ll get started.”
Emma rose from the chair and walked to the booth, hands still covering herself. “But, can’t I dress myself?”
Carrie grabbed a black bottle from the makeup table and came in with her. “I’m pretty sure you’ll need my help. Something tells me you’ve never worn latex before.”
Naked and shivering more from the company than the cold, Emma looked at Carrie with shock. “Latex? What, that stuff in the sex shops!?”
Carrie was pulling something red and shiny from a garment bag. She hung the garment on a hook by its hanger. Emma could see that it was a rubber catsuit in brilliant, glossy scarlet, with a matching set of high heels and wrist gloves on a table to one side. “I’m surprised you even knew that. No, this is high quality stuff, made to measure. I understand it was a bit of a rush job, but then, Miss Mercier has that kind of pull. Cash, too. She must really like you to go through all this trouble.” Emma again felt bashful that Miss Mercier might pay so much attention to her.
Emma looked at this strange garment in wonder as Carrie squirted something clear and thick from the black bottle onto her palm. “We need to lube you up in order to get that on you. Hold your arms out, and spread your legs.” Emma complied without thinking, then went goggle-eyed as Carrie began rubbing the silicon lubricant across her back. The application continued with only short stops as she squirted more lube onto Emma’s bare skin, until Carrie had massaged every part of Emma from the neck down. On her knees, applying it to Emma’s calves, Carrie looked up and noticed both the foggy expression of her subject and the unmistakable signs of arousal in her hardening nipples.
“How ya doin’, love?” Carrie asked with a smirk.
“a-All right”, Emma replied as if from far away. She had not had anyone touch her like this in a long, long time, and that was not nearly as intense or intimate. She was having a hard time accepting the fact that she enjoyed it.
“Glad to hear it. Okay! Time to slither in to your new skin.” Carrie stood up and took the catsuit off the hanger. Opening the zip at the back, she held it open for Emma. “One foot first, then the other. Put your hand on my shoulder to steady yourself, and take your time.”
Emma did as she was told, and soon she had both legs in the suit. Then she fed her arms into the sleeves, and stood still as Carrie brought the zip up to her neck, sealing her in. The sensation as it glided over her skin was incredible. She was adrift in her thoughts as Carrie tugged and smoothed the last wrinkles away.
“Wow, they did a great job on this one, it looks perfect! Come on, let’s finish up. Raise your left foot.” Emma did, and Carrie slipped the heels on one, then the other foot. She then retrieved some small straps and padlocks from the table, and before Emma knew it had locked the shoes onto her feet with small padlocks at the ankles.
“Wait, what?” Emma asked.
“It’s all a part of your ‘look’ for the night. Don’t worry, I have the keys right here. Now, put out your hands.” Emma raised her hands, and Carrie slipped the matching red latex wrist gloves on them. Grabbing a spray bottle and cloth, she spritzed a mist of polish onto the suit and buffed it everywhere, paying perhaps a bit more attention to Emma’s breasts and bottom. This drew a sigh and fluttered eyes from the rubber-clad model, who snapped awake a moment later, aghast. Carrie snickered before finishing with a final flick of the cloth over Emma’s nipple, eliciting a quick gasp from her.
“Okay, you’re done! Not so bad, eh? Let’s go show you off to the crew.” She took Emma’s hand and led her out of the changing room.
A lot more people had arrived since she went in to change, participants who were themselves getting ready for the show. As if the events of the evening had not been enough of an eye-opener, Emma was amazed to see a room full of men and women in outfits as bizarre, if not more so, than the one she herself was wearing. One woman finishing her makeup was dressed as a Vegas showgirl, while a man in Navy whites and a girl in a shiny silver cowgirl outfit leaned against the wall, fiddling with their cell phones. Two women in matching school girl uniforms chatted loudly as they walked by, nearly colliding with a tall fellow dressed as an English butler. It was quite a menagerie, and Emma was bedazzled by the glitz and glamour of it all. Funny thing was, she didn’t recognize anyone else from the office.
Jane came into the room and clapped her hands twice, loudly. “Listen up, everyone! The show is starting, and we’ve got a full house this time. You all look fabulous, and I know this auction is going to be a great success. Now, please finish up quickly and proceed to the backstage. Quickly, please!” She turned and left, but not before casting a glance at Emma and nodding approvingly. Emma was too distracted to see Carrie give her boss a knowing wink.
Carrie put a hand on Emma’s hip and guided her forward. There were more than a few appreciative looks from both sexes as they made their way out of the dressing area to the backstage. They could hear the emcee addressing the crowd, and the first of the “slaves” to be auctioned, the showgirl, went on stage to a roar from the crowd. Guiding her to a place near the end of the line, Carrie gave Emma’s arm a comforting squeeze. “You look great, Kitten. I wish I were bidding on you myself. Have fun out there!” And with another squeeze and a quick peck on the cheek, Carrie left Emma to her fate.
The auction was in full swing, and some of the participants were going for quite large sums. One rather buff and limber fellow in leather vest, chaps and codpiece elicited a spirited bidding war between two groups of revelers, one all-male and the other a mixed group, with the former winning with hoots and hollers.
But a woman who Emma thought was very pretty and looked quite stunning in a spandex cheerleader’s outfit only got a modest response. This made Emma very nervous (like everything else in the world!) If that was the reaction a pretty one would get, how would she do? She despaired to think that all this effort would be a wash, and that Miss Mercier would be disappointed in her. Thinking how it might affect her job prospects was, curiously, second to that.
It was finally time for Emma to take her turn, but the thought of it had her frozen in place. Jane walked up and said, “You’re on, hun”, but Emma couldn’t budge. Seeing the reason, Jane sighed and turned to her assistant. “Enrico, we have a shy one here. Care to give me a hand?”
The hairdresser appeared out of nowhere, as if waiting for his queue. “Sure thing, boss”, she heard from behind her, then Emma felt a tightness around her neck and a heard a click behind her ears. A hand reached forward and handed the stage manager a jeweled pet leash, the end of which was attached to the matching collar that Enrico had locked onto Emma’s neck. Jane gave the leash a sharp tug as she smiled evilly. “Come on Kitten, it’s your big debut.” A second, sharper tug was timed with a hard slap from Enrico on Emma’s derriere, shocking her into motion as Jane led her onto the runway.
There was a noticeable hush in the crowd as Emma was lead down the catwalk. Some were surprised by the beautiful creature before them. Others were busy trying to figure out who she was. The final group were the ones who recognized her from the office, gasping and murmuring and pointing for one another. She certainly had the crowd’s attention!
The emcee read from her card. “Up next is Kitten, from the Accounting department at Mercier and Noir.” The murmur of the crowd swelled to a cacophony of cheers and jeers, laughs and whistles. They sure knew who she was now! “She’s a shy thing, but sleek and slinky. I’m sure she could use some good petting tonight, eh? Bidding was supposed to start at five hundred, but I think that’s too low, let’s open at a thousand! Now, who wants to hear this kitten purr?”
Emma was mortified. She wanted to turn and run backstage, but Jane held her leash firmly.
The bidding was, to say the least, enthusiastic. Several groups and individuals began a vigorous round that soon escalated into many tens of thousands of dollars. Just when it seemed the bidding was over, a chorus rang out from the rear of the hall: “ONE HUNDRD THOUSAND!” All eyes, including Emma’s, turned to see who had bid.
Emma gasped in recognition. It was Miss Mercier’s little lackeys, Faith, Hope and Charity. They were walking down the center aisle, waving their numbered signs.
“One hundred thousand it is! Do I hear any more? Once, Twice, Thrice, SOLD for one hundred grand!” The emcee stomped the stage as she gestured dramatically at Emma to great applause. Jane tugged on Emma’s leash and lead her to the edge of the stage, where the terrifying trio were waiting to claim their prize. She leaned in and, with a conspiratorial whisper, said, “Enjoy yourself, Kitten!” before handing over the leash.
Faith took hold of the leash and drew Emma in close. “Well, well, fancy meeting you here. My, this is a new look for you. But we do like it, don’t we, girls?” Hope and Charity nodded as they come around either side of Emma, surrounding her, pressing close. Their hands ran lightly over Emma’s second skin. “It really... suits you. And so slick and shiny. We are going to have so much fun tonight, the four of us. Come on, Kitten. We have a room upstairs full of cat toys for you. Ladies, if you will?” Hope and Charity took each of Emma’s wrists and locked them into a pair of handcuffs before the rubber-clad girl could react. Faith turned and walked out of the hall, pulling the hapless Emma behind her, encouraged by the more-than-playful slaps Hope and Charity regularly put on her rear.
As they left, Emma caught glimpses of her co-workers watching her departure with laughter and amazement. Snatches of comments reached her ears through the din: “You know, I heard she barged into Mercier’s office and begged to be in the show.” “I always thought she was such a mouse!” “Wow, what a looker!” “I would have said Hooker, in that getup!” “Hope she has nine lives, going off with those three...” That last one stuck with her as they exited the hall and lead their new pet to the elevators.
Several minutes later they ushered her into a luxury suite at the top of the hotel. Emma was starting to wonder what the girls really did at the firm, that they could afford all this. In fact, how did they scrape up a hundred thousand dollars to bid on her? The answers would have to wait, as Faith brought her to the center of the lounge and grasped the leash at the collar end. “Okay, kitten, here’s the scoop. You belong to us tonight, so we’ll be calling the shots. You do what we say, and you might have some fun as well. But if you get all fussy on us, well”, and Faith pulled on the collar, bringing Emma’s face closer and locking eyes with her, “you may wish you hadn’t. Understand?”
Poor Emma, such a meek thing, started welling up as she barely squeaked, “Yes.”
“Good kitty.” And with that, Faith’s countenance softened and she kissed Emma, long and deep. The other girls pressed in, hugging and fondling her. Emma stiffened and squealed, but found herself surrendering to their ever-pressing intimacy. Hope reached up and cupped one of Emma’s breasts, rubbing a finger over the hardening nipple. “Aw, look, she’s getting into it. I knew she had a kinky streak in her.” She now cupped both of Emma’s latex-covered breasts from behind, kneading them playfully as Faith continued to kiss her. Emma was starting to twitch and writhe, her hands clasped behind her moving in futile spasms that Hope put to good use by grinding her crotch against them.
Charity went to the bedroom, returning quickly with a satchel that tinkled and clanked as she moved. She dropped it near Faith’s feet and smiled expectantly. “Kitty could use some new toys, right?”
Faith broke off, licking her lips. “She sure can.”
Charity bounced up and down a bit. “Ears?”
Faith nodded. “Ears.”
A delighted Charity rummaged a moment in the bag and stood up with a strange tangle of red rubber strips. She fussed with it a bit to reveal it as a training harness for Emma’s head, with snaps for various attachments and a pair of large red kitty ears on top. Emma reared back, aghast, but Hope held her fast as Charity thrust the mass of straps over Emma’s face and head. A few moments later Emma felt the straps being tightened and buckled fast.
Charity grinned and held up a black rubber bung with two straps on either side. “Okay, kitty, open wide!”
“Please, no, don’t put that oowmm!” Charity ignored her pleas and worked it onto Emma’s mouth, fastening it to the harness with the snaps at either side. Gagged, Emma could do nothing but moan softly.
Faith’s hand drifted down to Emma’s crotch, slowly pulling open the zipper and sliding two fingers inside. Emma’s eyes bugged out as the fingers glided along her nether lips. Faith stared at her mischievously. “My, someone is starting to enjoy herself. Getting nice and slippery, aren’t we?” Were it possible for Emma to turn as crimson as her outfit she would have done so, but she found herself bending at the hips, leaning into Faith’s caresses as her breathing grew long and deep.
“She’s so much fun!” exclaimed Hope.
There was a complex knock at the door. Faith flicked her eye at Hope. “Sounds like our delivery is here.” Hope walked over and opened the door. Out of the corner of her eye Emma saw a vibrant purple figure enter. It was Enrico.
“Hola, mis chicas Locas!” he said dramatically as he entered, waving a satchel. “Special delivery from La Pistola! I have our Kitten’s things here. Clothes and shoes. Would someone please take them and burn them, they’re a -”. He cut himself short with a loud gasp. “¡Mierda! What have you done!?” He all but flew over and began loosening the straps of Emma’s head harness. Her heart leapt – was she about to be rescued?
Her answer came in the form of a comb, picking and preening her hair back into style, obscuring the straps. Enrico was fixing her hairstyle, clucking all the while like a wet hen. “Ladies, I am an artist! Please, show some respect for my work!” He finished restoring her leonine mane and once again tightened the harness.
The three tormentors waited patiently for him to finish. They’d seen his moods before. Once he was done they made sufficiently positive noises and ushered him out the door. Emma stood in place, looking at the curtained window, afraid to move. Faith and Hope walked into her view, while Charity could be heard rummaging about in her bag of goodies with loud rustlings and clinking.
“Now, where were we?” Faith asked rhetorically. “The butterfly, I believe. You ever see a kitten in the grass, chasing after a butterfly? Its the most adorable thing. Of course, we had to get our Kitten one for her own amusement. See?” She raised her hand to show a strange and vaguely butterfly-shaped object made of purple plastic. “We don’t want to waste time having you chase it all over, so I’m going to let you have it right now.” Hope went behind Emma and held her by the arms as Faith lowered her hand and slipped the butterfly into Emma’s suit at the open crotch zipper, nestling it against her sex, the wings spreading over her lips while the head cupped her button. Faith held it in place with one finger while her other hand pulled the zip closed. The skin-tight latex held the butterfly fast against her, its pressure a constant excitement.
Emma was starting to heat up again, drawing long, deep breaths through her nose. Hope let go of her arms and hugged her from behind as Faith gently stroked Emma’s hardened nipples through their rubber covering. Charity skipped into view with two items, a blindfold and what looked like a garage door opener. She handed the later to Faith and, brandishing the blindfold, took a step towards Emma. “Ooh, you’re such a pretty kitty, I almost don’t want to do this. Almost.” And with a touch of glee she pressed the blindfold to Emma’s eyes, plunging her into darkness. A few quick snaps told her it had been attached to the head harness, immovable. She whined nervously.
Hands stroked her gently. “None of that”, said Faith. “We have many more surprises in store for you. But right now, I have to test this. Brace yourself.” Emma barely had time to think what that meant before she heard a click from the remote, and felt the butterfly purr to life. Despite the blindfold, the girls were sure they saw her eyes open even wider. But it only lasted a moment, and when it stopped Emma stayed rigid for a moment before shaking up and down a bit with a muffled wail of frustration. They got a good laugh out of that.
“Its okay, Kitten, there’s more of that to come. But its not for us to give it to you. You’ll have to wait for-” She was interrupted by a firm knock at the door. “Looks like you don’t have to wait at all! Stay where you are, don’t move.”
Emma felt the three release her and heard them move towards the door. A moment later the door opened. “Good evening, Ma’am”, Faith greeted their visitor.
“Good evening, ladies.” Emma shook at the sound of that greeting, for it was her boss, Miss Mercier, that spoke. “I see you have been busy with our little Kitten. Bring her here, let’s have a look.” Miss Mercier sat on the couch. “Hope, a vodka tonic from the bar. Charity, my feet ache.” Hope went to the bar while Charity knelt in front of Miss Mercier and removed her boss’ heels before starting a massage. Hope brought the drink form the bar and also knelt, offering it to her boss. Miss Mercier took the glass with a pleased smile, sipped and reclined, closing her eyes for a moment to enjoy the foot rub.
Faith went over to Emma and guided the hoodwinked girl to the couch. Miss Mercier opened her eyes and took in the sight of her bound and rubber-clad accountant. “Yes, very nice. They did a lovely job on her outfit with such short notice, didn’t they? And I see you three have been most attentive to the details. That’s enough, Charity.” With a wave she allowed the two kneeling girls to return to their feet. She placed her drink on a side table and sat up. “But I see we have some business to attend. Emma, your probationary period is at an end, and I must say I am quite concerned.”
The mock seriousness of her tone drew gleeful smiles from the three handlers but was lost completely on their blindfolded, trembling charge.
“Emma, I witnessed your shocking display on stage tonight, and I must say this is not what we expect from our employees at Mercier and Noir. It’s becoming clear to me that you may not be the best fit for your current position.” This brought a moan of despair from the gagged mouth of the rubber maid, and Miss Mercier let her sink a bit into despair before continuing. “Now, that does not mean that you are going to be leaving us. Quite the contrary – I would like to offer you a promotion of sorts, to be my personal assistant.”
Emma caught her breath quick, her eyes staring into blackness behind the blindfold.
“You would not be in the office, of course, but employed at my home outside of town. I have many interests outside of the office, and it can be a lot to keep, mm, straight at times.” Emma heard the others chuckle at this. “Your duties would keep you busy to the point that you would have to live there. I would provide your lodgings, of course, as well as a wardrobe of uniforms appropriate to your station.”
“Uniforms?” Emma thought, but had little time to consider as she felt a half-dozen hands begin to caress her from all angles. The sensation was overwhelming, and she shuddered and moaned in reply. Miss Mercier’s voice seemed closer now, as another pair of hands found her, one unbuckling her gag, the other pressing against the butterfly in her mons.
“I think you would make an excellent addition to my household, Emma. I dare say it’s a job you were born for. I could see you serving me for a very, long, time.” With that, her hand ground into Emma’s nether region, and a faint “click” was followed by a vibration that lit her on fire. She shouted and bit into her gag as she began to buckle and writhe, unable to escape the sensations as the caressing hands now held her firmly, sensations that she found herself not wanting to resist.
Miss Mercier leaned in and whispered into Emma’s ear. “I do hope you will say Yes, Emma. You are perfect for my needs. And this is but a taste of what is in store for you. All you have to do is say, Yes.” With that, she eased the gag out of Emma’s mouth and ground the buzzing butterfly deep into her crotch.
“OOOHH!” Emma arched, barely able to speak, but the girls held her fast and Miss Mercier was unyielding. Her tormentor whispered again. “What do you say, Kitten?”
Emma was losing herself to the moment, and tried to speak. “Hu, hye, yes.”
“What was that? Louder, please.”
The wave was cresting. As she crashed over it, Emma shouted, “YES!!” and was lost. She would have fallen over but not for the hands holding her as she leaned back, shaking in her release. As it subsided, the girls all looked at Miss Mercier, who smiled triumphantly as she encouraged a series of aftershocks out of her new pet.
“Good girl”, she whispered brightly to Emma. “But from now on, it will be ‘Yes, Miss Mercier’, understood?”
Emma, still awash in the aftermath, said breathlessly, “Yes, Miss Mercier”.
“Excellent.” She reinserted Emma’s gag and buckled it tight. Motioning for the girls to stand her upright, she lifted Emma’s blindfold and gave her a warm smile. “Well, now, that was fun, wasn’t it? But, we have a lot to do this evening. I have an event downstairs to attend, fashionably late of course, and you have a journey ahead of you. Let’s get you ready for the road, shall we?” Charity went to her bag of goodies and produced a scarlet rubber straitjacket, a matching piece for Emma’s catsuit. The three vixens proceeded to work it onto their exhausted charge. In moments she was strapped up tight, her arms secured across her midriff.
Miss Mercier picked up the jeweled leash and clicked it onto the ring of Emma’s collar. Grasping it at the near end, she pulled Emma close and whispered, “You’re mine now, Emma. All mine”, and kissed her lightly on the cheek. Emma’s eyes went hazy at these words, her knees shaking at the thought of what was to come. A long, slow moan of desire came from behind her gag.
Miss Mercier smiled, then became more businesslike as she handed the leash to Faith. “Get her home, and prepared for my inspection. I should arrive about an hour after you. Continue her… orientation. Not too much, just keep her warmed up.”
Faith and the girls took their task seriously. “Yes, Ma’am. We’ll have her in uniform and ready when you arrive.” Faith gave the leash a tug. “Come on, Kitten! Time to go say bye-bye to your former colleagues!” Laughing with glee, they urged her out of the room as they went in, Faith pulling her leash while Hope and Charity swatted her behind in encouragement.
In the elevator, Emma was breathing hard and fast as she realized what was about to happen. Sure enough, the door opened and the girls lead her right back into the ballroom. The sight of their colleague dressed in latex, trussed up in bondage and being lead by a leash brought a wave of laughter and ridicule (and, from a few men and women, appreciation) that completely mortified the former accountant. Her career was over. How could she ever live this down? As if this weren’t enough, Faith called out aloud, “Don’t mind us, folks, we’re just taking out kitten for a stroll.” Claps, hoots and hollers accompanied by several rude comments were her reply. The three girls lead their humiliated charge to the main entrance, where the valet was bringing up their SUV.
They bundled the helpless Emma into the back, where a large transport kennel was waiting with its door open. Forcing her inside, they took a moment to appreciate the sight of their rubber-clad Kitten on all fours, mewling pathetically through her gag as she stared up at them pleadingly. Faith leaned forward and caressed her cheek.
“Now, now, none of that, Kitten. You have no idea how good you’ll have it now that you belong to Miss Mercier. The old you is gone forever. Settle in, we’ve a bit of a drive ahead of us.” And with that, she unceremoniously pulled Emma’s blindfold back in place, closed and locked the kennel door and jammed her thumb down on the button of the remote. She paused only briefly from the sight of the writhing Kitten in her cage to nod at Hope, who had taken the driver’s seat. With a roar of its powerful engine, the SUV took off from the curb and sped into the night.
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