© Copyright 2010 - AmyAmy - Used by permission
Storycodes: F+/fm; latex; maid; fem; cd; bond; susp; hobble; piercing; costume; oral; cons/nc; XX
Chapter 8: Deep Waters, Strong Currents
I think there were moments between activation of the vibrating butt-plug when I think that I might have fallen asleep and slipped into a dream world. In that half-sleeping state I could no longer clearly distinguish between dreams and reality. I was still in this half-conscious state when Mistress Five and Lindsay entered the room. Something seemed wrong, but at first I was so dazed that I couldn't work out what it was. I can't be sure, but Mistress Five looked like she was locked into some sort of white rubber straightjacket and Lindsay was dragging her by a leash. She opened a door to my side and dragged her through it.
A little later they re-emerged. Things seemed restored to normal. Mistress Five was back in her nurse’s uniform. Except there was still something out of place: it took my sleep-fuddled mind a while to realise that she was wearing a translucent white hood with vampishly shaped holes for the eyes, nose and mouth. She cuffed Lindsay's hands in front of her and hooked them onto a chain, which she then winched upwards until Lindsay was hanging as much as standing. She then gagged her tightly with an oversized red rubber ball, secured in place with a rubber strap that she viciously yanked tight and buckled behind her head.
Then she moved over to the shelves, where she seemed to be searching for something. Eventually she found something that looked like a medical case. She brought it over to me and opened it on a small table to the side of my chair. It was full of metal tools, tubes of ointment and various aerosol sprays. I was now starting to feel like I was awake. There was still something nagging at the back of my mind: everything seemed somehow strange and unreal. There was a horrible cold sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
To my surprise, the nurse began to partially unlace my collar. Then she removed my hood. It felt very strange to have the sweaty skin of my head suddenly exposed to the cold air. Not that the air was actually cold at all, it just felt that way after the heat of the rubber. The next series of events took place so fast that I really didn't have time to register what was going on, or how I felt about it. Only afterwards did I have a chance to consider what had happened.
The nurse sprayed my nose with the numbing spray, then quickly, while I was still stunned, she grabbed hold of my septum with a horrid looking tool and I felt a sudden sharp pressure followed by an unexpected vile crunching noise. There was a sickening odour of charred flesh. She quickly pulled the tool away. I could feel something awful wrong with my nose. Then with a different tool, she returned to my nose four more times. I was in a state of total shock and panic. I had no idea what she'd done, but it felt very strange.
The awful smell of burning flesh - I knew it was my own burning flesh - was enough to make me want to vomit. A rush of my own stomach acids burned my mouth, but I managed to swallow them back down. Whatever the nurse had done to me, it was something dreadfully permanent. She treated my nose with various liquids, and the numb spray. Despite this, I could feel the sense of something tremendously painful lurking behind the numbness. I was weeping pathetically. My body was completely out of my control and I was so helpless. I thrashed around in the chair in a state of hysterical panic.
I felt her inserting pieces of cold metal up inside my nose. Then I felt her using some tool that made a nasty sound that set my teeth on edge. At last she was done. In retrospect, there was something alien and yet familiar about the way the nurse worked. I'd had some bad ordeals at the dentist's but this was of another order. I now appreciated just how trivial were the things that had happened before. This new sense of perspective did nothing to help my nerves. It was all too much to take in and I remained awash in panic. After days of more or less coping with the tight corset, suddenly I felt like I couldn't breathe. It happened so quickly I had no chance to react, and then everything went dark.
I regained consciousness to find myself breathing from a medical mask attached to my face. As my eyes began to focus, I realised that Mistress Five was lying on the floor in front of me, her head still covered by the hood, and with her uniform in disarray. She was having some sort of fit. Housekeeper Four and Mistress Three were both there trying to help her. They peeled the hood from her head. She seemed to be trying to say something, but only an incoherent noise came from her mouth. I watched helplessly from the chair as four maids loaded the wretched Five onto a medical trolley, strapped her down and wheeled her away. Mistress Three went with the trolley.
Housekeeper Four remained behind. She went over to Lindsay, who was still hanging with the big red gag in her mouth, exactly where the nurse had left her. The Housekeeper removed the gag and instantly began to question the dangling woman.
"What happened? Tell me exactly what was going on here," demanded the housekeeper.
Lindsay struggled for a few moments, working her jaw so that she could speak. This only resulted in the housekeeper giving her a sharp slap across the face.
"Answer me!" She boomed.
"Sorry mistress," whimpered Lindsay.
"Now talk," said the housekeeper.
"We were playing up here. We were in the other room and the maid was secured to the chair like she is now," she said, nodding towards me.
"Go on," said the housekeeper.
"The other maid was in the inflatable. Mistress Five said she had some drugs from the clinic she wanted to try," explained Lindsay. She clearly wanted to stop - pausing for an instant - fear made her continue.
"I was afraid but I daren't say anything against it. I... I watched her inject them into herself. After that she started to act strangely," babbled Lindsay.
"Go on," nodded the housekeeper.
"She got angry, I don't know why. The maid in the inflatable had been serving her. Suddenly Mistress Five didn't like it. She wouldn't let the maid breathe," Lindsay paused, nervously biting her lip. "I thought she would suffocate her. I pushed her off. She knocked me to the ground and I didn't get up."
The Housekeeper nodded silently.
"Then I think she injected the maid in the inflatable with something ... I think the same drug. I couldn't see properly from the floor. I was afraid she was going to use it on me, but she didn't. She dragged me in here and chained me in place," said Lindsay. She was clearly building to a climax in her unsettling tale.
"She searched the room for a piercing kit. There was one on the shelf that I use for the slaves that need extreme piercings. She took it out and used it on the maid. She used it on her nose. I... I wanted to stop her, but I was too weak," whimpered Lindsay.
"I know about the piercing. What happened next?" Asked the housekeeper.
"Then... Then the maid seemed to slump. I think she blacked out. I thought maybe... I don't know what I thought... I thought I would be next. Then, when she turned to face me, she fell to her knees. She was trying to say something. She collapsed on her face and started twitching. After a while it got worse, and she was making that awful noise," said Lindsay.
Her story didn't entirely agree with what I thought I'd seen, but I had been half asleep, and as Housekeeper Four had pointed out so carefully, I didn't remember things well at the best of times. It was likely that Lindsay's version of events was correct and I had dreamed part of it. At that point, I really didn't care. There was something horrible sore and swollen in my nose – it really hurt. I couldn't rationalise my turbulent feelings. I felt betrayed, shocked, hurt, abused, injured and violated. I couldn't understand how Nurse Five could do something awful to me. I was worried about her too: she had to be very ill to have acted as she did and then collapse.
I still blamed her for using whatever drugs she'd injected in the first place. It sounded like something bad had happened to Number Seventeen as well. Even though she said nothing to indicate it, I sensed that Housekeeper Four was shocked and disturbed by this too. Two maids arrived to unchain Lindsay. They collared her, leashed her and took her away. I remained unnoticed: locked to the chair, breathing through the mask. The vibrating plug was still operating at full effectiveness: it had to have lithium batteries or something. I was still so shocked that I barely noticed whether it was running or not.
Housekeeper Four and Number Two entered the room together. They were talking together in German and, of course, ignoring me. Number Two was wearing her dramatic corset. Instead of simply curving inwards in the middle like mine, it had a straight section at the tightest point like a pipe, extending the narrow part of her waist upwards and downwards. It was as if her luscious breasts were detached from her curvaceous hips, then loosely joined together by this unrealistically narrow piece.
She reminded me of an erotic insect, like a queen wasp or an ant. There was something hypnotically sensual but alien about her. I felt both a longing and a fear that I might become more like her in some way. I was so distracted by her appearance that it was a while before I started to pay attention to what they were saying.
"Mistress Two, I would like to check the camera records for this area and for the clinic," said Housekeeper Four.
"I will have copies sent to you as soon as I am finished here. However, I see no reason to doubt the slave's account. It does seem out of character, but it is possible that Five has been concealing drug use for some time," said Number Two.
"Of course Mistress," nodded the housekeeper. "I will begin a search for evidence of past experiments," she added.
"Good. Find the full explanation whatever it is. I'm sure you will leave no stone unturned," said Number Two.
"What of the novice maid?" Asked the housekeeper. "The modifications are unbecoming, if not completely inappropriate in a maid. Will you be asking Mistress Three to repair her?"
"She can stay as she is for now; she isn't visibly damaged. There's no point wasting effort on her when it won't affect her ability to perform her duties. We can reserve the fitting of any rings as a punishment," said Number Two.
"Of course Mistress," said Housekeeper Four.
The housekeeper followed Number Two out of the room again and I couldn't overhear the rest of their conversation.
It seemed like a long time later when Housekeeper Four returned to collect me. I was happy that she came herself. Troubled as I was, I welcomed a familiar face, even hers.
"This incident has made a mess of your training schedule Number Twenty Two. It's morning already, and at this time you should be getting out of bed and dressing in your uniform," said the housekeeper. She sounded tired: something I'd never noticed in her voice before.
Apparently the whole night had passed while I was unconscious in the chair. It was now morning, and I assumed correctly that little account would be made of my lack of sleep and fragile condition. She removed the mask and treated my nose with the numb spray. I welcomed the relief. She allowed me to suck some of the food-liquid through a tube while she unfastened me from the chair. I began to feel much better with something inside me, and a comfortable warm feeling spread from my stomach.
"You will be working on voice training as originally planned today. You will need to work extra hard. You will probably not be training in the afternoon, instead you will assist with work duties, as we are now short two staff members," she explained.
A maid, I think it was Number Nine, took me down to the staff area and the maids' quarters where I received the enema I had missed the night before. Afterwards, she helped me get back into my uniform and then took me to the stuffy closet where I had spent the morning repeating words into the computer. The maid chained me to the stool and started the computer program. I was left alone, listening to and repeating the sexy female voice emanating from the computer.
I was very tired after my difficult night, but all nights were difficult here, one way or another. Having slept in the chair meant that I was stiffer and suffered from more aches and pains than usual. The dull pain in my nose, the pressure of the corset on my middle, and the tightness of the collar around my neck were always present in my mind. I was worried about doing well at my task, and I thought that if I was making any sort of improvement at all it had to be very slow. I was nervous that better progress was expected of me and I would be punished for slacking at my tasks.
My mind began to drift to different things: the struggle to keep from falling asleep, the condition of Nurse Five, what had really happened last night – I had no idea what was going on.
At some point I decided that the tight collar was affecting my voice. It certainly felt like it was, and it had to be the reason that I sounded a little odd, even without considering the effort I was making to sound like a sexy woman. I spent the morning trying various stratagems to impersonate the voice convincingly. None of them worked very well, and whenever I did badly I risked accumulating further punishments. My throat was beginning to get sore from the effort and my nose was now hurting quite badly.
Housekeeper Four didn't appear at lunchtime, but instead another maid came to fetch me. She didn't introduce herself, but I didn't think it was anyone I knew. She unlocked me from the stool and we hurried to the lunchroom, with me tip-toeing along awkwardly in my ballet boots. As usual it was a struggle to get my food and water down in time. My throat felt tight and it was hard to swallow. I was thankful for the warm soothing glow that the delicious food liquid always brought me.
After our meal, the maid took me to the clinic where Mistress Three was waiting. I expected my usual injections. Mistress Three hooked my wrists behind my back and hooked my neck to a clip on the wall. I was forced to wait, standing at attention.
After a few minutes, Mistress Three returned and quickly administered some injections. There seemed to be more than usual. She also treated my nose with yet another spray, which helped with the pain. Again, I was left waiting, still clipped in place like a dog on a very short chain. I was feeling quite low and depressed again despite the food.
After a while I noticed that I could hear muffled voices. They were speaking German, and so quiet that they were very hard to make out over the noise of the blood within my ears. I could still follow most of what was said.
"Caution, the maid will hear us," said a voice.
"Do not worry. She is ear-plugged and hooded: she can't hear a thing. Anyway, she barely speaks a word of German," said another voice. I think it was Mistress Three.
My ears weren't plugged though. Mistress Three was in error. Perhaps my German was better than she imagined too - but then she had never really bothered to converse with me.
"Listen. We can still do it tomorrow. I will inform her that the nurse is recovering and is asking for her. She will come running to the clinic to see her pet. You must drug her quickly from behind. We can overpower her and put her in isolation," said the first voice. I now suspected it was Number Two.
"What if anyone asks questions?" Worried Mistress Three.
"Don't worry, I have planned a substitution. Nobody will be able to tell her identity once she's in there," explained Number Two.
"Yes. It will take us several weeks to sort things out. There will be no resistance after that," agreed Mistress Three.
"I will be in my rooms. I will return at this time tomorrow," said Number Two.
I was horrified. Clearly there was a conspiracy at the highest levels. This was the second time I had heard the two mistresses trying to conceal their plots. Given the odds of me being in the clinic, they had to be meeting with considerable frequency for me to have overheard them twice now.
At first I hadn't been able to understand who they were planning against, but now I knew. There was only one person that Number Two would need to move secretly against. I now felt certain that Nurse Five's strange mishap had somehow been related to Mistress Three. Perhaps her drugs had been tampered with? Perhaps something else. I still didn't understand all of that part.
I needed to do something about this, but there was nobody I could trust to believe me. Housekeeper Four would probably only punish me, if she let me speak at all. I doubted that she would act against the other two, and it was just as likely that she was in league with them. After all, she had not been attacked as Nurse Five had: she was probably loyal to the others. I decided that if I got the chance to talk to Nineteen tonight, I would confide in her. Perhaps she would know what to do. Perhaps together we might be able to get a warning directly to Number One without anyone else knowing.
I was still clipped to the wall when Housekeeper Four appeared to collect me. She looked tired and drained. We did not return to the dark cupboard. Before leaving with me, she headed out of sight into Mistress Three's area. I don't know what questions she asked as she spoke very quietly. However, I could hear Mistress Three's reply:
"At this point I cannot tell if she will ever return to consciousness, or that if she does regain consciousness what sort of function she will exhibit. She and Number Seventeen have suffered a succession of massive brain seizures. I'm still working to discover what it was that they injected, but even if I can isolate the ingredients I doubt it will provide much benefit in their treatment. My only hope for their recovery lies in the hands of the Goddess," declaimed Mistress Three ominously.
This was chilling news to me, though I supposed that I was not meant to know. Why else would the housekeeper have spoken so softly?
I fought back tears at the thought that Nurse Five might never recover. Yet again I felt self-obsessed and myopic for worrying about what had happened to me. Clearly, I had been the lucky one of the three. Nurse Five might have done something wrong, but the consequences for her and Number Seventeen were dramatic. All that had happened to me was something that made my nose hurt a bit.
While I was still pondering this horror, Housekeeper Four unclipped me from my restraint and ordered me to follow with a single sharp word. It wasn't long before once again I found myself in a part of the building that I didn't recognise. I began to feel nervous. The Housekeeper led me though a heavy wooden door.
"These are my rooms. I've brought you here so that you can get experience serving me personally. I want something to clear my mind of recent events for a time. I hope you will show the right attitude".
I nodded eagerly. I was still upset and confused, but I was very afraid of upsetting the housekeeper.
"It is your chance to wear something pretty. Remove your maid's dress, petticoats and punishment mask then put on these clothes," said the housekeeper, pointing to a large heap of glistening pearlescent blue rubber.
It was arduous work to remove my dress with the thick gloves numbing all sensation from my fingers. I was breathless, and the interior of my skin suit was running with sweat by the time I had managed it.
By the time I had removed my outer garments, the housekeeper had already changed her outfit, and was wearing a gleaming white catsuit with an integral hood and gloves. At first I couldn't see any opening in it, but I later realised that it zipped across the top of the shoulders and up the sides of the hood. A white waspie corset cinched in her waist, and white stiletto boots with five-inch heels zipped at the back to complete the outfit. She looked fabulous as usual: tall, powerful, sexy and domineering.
I couldn't bring myself to like her, but I couldn't help but respect the stern Housekeeper. The idea of her in control of me sent an erotic shiver down my spine. The thought that I had no way out of this situation sent another. I felt the desperate tendrils of sexual tension radiating from my crotch. After the long succession of grim and fatiguing events, I too was more than ready for something indulgent and sensual. I was thankful for a chance to empty my mind of everything but the housekeeper's demands.
I struggled to control my thoughts and pay attention to the task in hand: the blue rubber garments. I would need to work out what every little piece of it was and where it was supposed to go or I knew I would be severely punished for being incapable of dressing myself properly. I separated the items and studied each in turn. There was a long blue dress: it zipped at the back and was made of fine, soft rubber. There was also a pair of short white gloves that looked like the most ordinary, least restrictive pair of gloves I had seen in a long time.
There was a strange contraption made of a set of springy plastic hoops of varying sizes. They were joined together with something akin to heavy fishing line, which ultimately connected to a sort of rubber belt with press-stud fasteners. There was also a mountain of translucent yellow rubber petticoats. These were made from layered rubber skirts, each covered with layers of gathered rubber ruffles. I smoothed them out and found that they closed at the waist with a delicate zip.
There was a flesh-coloured hood of glossy moulded rubber and speed-laces at the back. This was unlike any hood I had seen before, with varying thickness of rubber, fake ears and a somewhat unusual texture, amongst other oddities. The last garment was a long translucent yellow rubber tube dress with a narrow skirt. It had no fastenings. I concluded it must stretch to fit.
It took me a few moments for my fuddled mind to work out how to organise these different garments. I remembered my history lessons of how women used some sort of supporting structure under skirts and connected this to the array of hoops. I determined that this must go on second, then the petticoats, then the hood, and then the blue dress. This left the tube dress, which I concluded had to go on first, as it would fit tight around my legs. I hoped it would not be too difficult: the housekeeper was not known to be patient.
I roughly rolled up the under-dress and stepped into it, then unrolled and tugged it up into place. It was quite thin and stretchy and wasn't difficult to manage. It didn't seem to be designed to go over my breasts and so I pulled it up to just beneath them. In this position the skirt came to my ankles. My undergarments were partially visible through the tightly stretched translucent surface of the dress. It fit very tightly around my thighs, squeezing my knees tightly together, before flaring out to allow more movement to my lower legs and ankles.
I moved around carefully to see if I could walk safely. Of course, my treacherous and lethal heels always made this a challenging activity, regardless of what else I wore. Nonetheless, I was still able to move about with reasonable freedom. Though I could not take large steps and there was extra effort involved in moving my thighs - with each movement stretching the tight rubber and resulting in a good deal of rubbery squeaking - this was scarcely an obstacle compared to the problems always posed by my heavy and inflexible ballet boots.
I arranged the hoops on the floor and very carefully hobbled into the middle of them. Picking up the rubber belt I began to raise it to my waist. To my surprise there wasn't an awful tangle. I popped the press-studs closed, carefully with my gloved fingers, and settled the belt down so it rested just above where my corset flared out over my hips.
The lowest of the hoops was suspended at least six inches from the floor. The whole array weighed almost nothing and swung easily as I moved, making a slight creaking sound. It was quite a pleasant sensation to move suddenly and let them swing about. Twisting quickly was not so pleasant, resulting in much clattering from the hoops as they jumped awkwardly out of place.
Sadly, I didn't have time to play with this strange new device. I had the rest of my outfit to don. With the hoops in place I couldn't step into the petticoats, which would have been the easy way to get into them without getting them tangled somehow. I had no choice but to bundle the skirts over my head. For a few terrifying moments my face was swathed in impermeable rubber. I felt as if I was trapped in the rubber mass, unable to breathe. I felt panic turning my limbs to jelly. I couldn't think. I knew I had to control myself. I knew that in theory I could hold my breath for much longer, but it wasn't easy in practice.
I wanted to take a huge gulp of air as I managed to push my head out into the open, but of course my corset wouldn't allow it. I took care to control my breathing for a short while before proceeding. I was determined not to have another dizzy fainting fit. The Housekeeper watched me impassively. She made no comment, either on my slowness or her satisfaction with events thus far. I had no idea whether she was angry, or perhaps even amused by my awkward efforts. In any event, her hood concealed her expression.
The skirts zipped tight around my waist and with some effort I was able to arrange them neatly over the hoops. The skirts reached almost to the ground while I was standing perfectly straight. If I moved they brushed against it with several inches of slack. If the design of the hoops was anything to go by, this seemed to be the intention.
I paused in my task for a moment, only to realise that Housekeeper Four was staring fixedly at me. I felt awkward and nervous doing everything in front of her and under such intense scrutiny. I was already fumbling enough as it was. I took pains to try and avoid catching her eye again. I now had to be more careful of how I moved. The hoop assembly now had much more weight on it and no longer swung about so freely. Now when I twisted the skirts and hoops moved together, and the hoops no longer tangled themselves.
I also found that if I moved back or forward too quickly, I was apt to tread on the hanging petticoats that pooled on the floor whenever the hoops moved about. I realised that this could quickly result in either a fall, or a ripped skirt. Either way I knew I would not enjoy the result.
When planning my order of dressing, I hadn't really considered the mask, and so the next garment I dealt with was the dress. The only way I could get into the outer dress was to pull it over my head. Remembering my experience with the petticoats, I gathered it up in preparation so that I wouldn't end up in a panic, tangled and suffocating. By planning a little ahead I avoided much difficulty putting it on, and the greatest problem was reaching to get the skirt smooth over the mass of petticoats and hoops.
The long sleeves were close fitting, but not tight and were easy to get into, even with my gloves hampering my grip of the rubber. Despite the corset, I was flexible enough to zip the back up. The bodice of the dress was beautifully tailored and fitted with numerous subtle darts, which meant that it was very form fitting without having to stretch much. It served to emphasise my already very conspicuous 'breasts'. They weren't real, but with the dress on you would never know.
The dress had to be the most elaborately constructed rubber garment that I'd encountered so far. I knew I was sure to be in fearsome trouble if I damaged it. The most likely cause would be getting it caught under my boot, so I resolved to walk even more carefully than usual. I left the back zip of the dress partially undone so that I could keep the high neck open enough to get the neck of the hood underneath it.
I wasn't looking forward to putting on the hood. It seemed to be moulded specially to cling to someone's face and had an odd greasy, tacky feeling to the inside that I didn't like. The main thing that worried me was not being able to breathe. I looked up from my task only to be reminded that Housekeeper Four was still staring at me. I nearly dropped the mask.
I psyched myself up and pulled the flesh coloured thing over my skin suit hood. I was plunged into darkness. I didn't care about the eyes: I desperately needed either the mouth of the nose to line up. I scrabbled desperately at the face of the hood with my gloved hands, trying to grip it and pull it into place. There was a decent sized hole for my mouth and I got it roughly into place. I paused, trying to get control of my breathing. It was always hard to recover the slightest oxygen debt with the corset restricting my breathing: there was simply no such thing as a deep breath for me in these clothes.
The rubber of the hood stretched easily for its thickness and I had little trouble manipulating it. The eyes and the nose soon followed once I felt secure about my air supply. The hood was quite a tight fit without even being laced up at the back. I wanted to be sure I really had it in place before I even considered the laces. The mouth hole was quite generous, not much smaller than that on my punishment hood. The edges of the hole were very fine rubber that fit close against my skin where it was exposed by the hole in my other hoods.
The nose holes felt rather miserly, though there appeared to be a realistic moulded nose on the outside of the hood. Plugs inside pushed into my nose. However, air didn't flow easily through the plugs. This made me very nervous that a gag would soon be involved in my costume.
The eyeholes in the hood were very strange. Unlike the large holes that circled my eye sockets in my ordinary hoods, they were designed to closely match my eyes. The hood has ultra thin delicate rubber around the eyes that stuck weakly to my eyelids and close up all around the eye. The gentle weight of the rubber on my eyelids forced my eyes half-closed, though not really restricting my vision much unless I wanted to look upwards.
I shifted my attention to the laces and with some difficult I managed to pull them tight and fasten them behind my head. Despite it stretchiness, the hood now felt quite restrictive and tight. Even though it was delicate in places, it gripped my head everywhere. It wasn't very comfortable to move my jaw. I pulled the neck of my dress up over the lower edges of the hood's neck and carefully eased the zipper up at the back. The neck of the dress closed snugly around my throat.
I looked around, and it was only at this point that I remembered the gloves. I was thankful that I had only made a small omission in my dressing plan. It could easily be rectified. I tugged the thin, white rubber gloves over my thick punishment gloves and up over the wrists of my dress. All trace of my original uniform and punishment garments was now completely obscured.
Housekeeper Four stepped forward. She has something in her hands. I flinched, fearing the worst.
"Stupid maid. Behave properly," said the housekeeper. "Now hold still."
I did so.
"Sorry Housekeeper. I won't move again. I am happy to serve you... Please!" I said using the German phrases I’d learned from the computer, and smiled as best I could.
"Of course. Be silent now," said the housekeeper, though not angrily.
She fitted a long blonde wig onto me, securing it to the hood with some sort of adhesive. Once she was satisfied with the positioning, she began to brush out the wig and arrange it properly. I felt very privileged to have the housekeeper brushing my 'hair'. It didn't take her very long though.
"Now, sit down over here and let me see how your make-up skills have progressed," she directed me towards a glass-topped dressing table.
I moved over carefully and sat on the rubber-padded stool she had indicated. As I walked over to the stool I caught a glimpse of myself full-length in the mirror. The shimmering, pearlescent blue gown was beautiful. I could see now that it was a very careful reinvention of a Victorian style, complete with crinoline. The elegant fit of the bodice and high neck only served to emphasise what they concealed. It appeared completely authentic in design to my untrained eye, though in all likelihood it was not.
Walking in the dress, I felt a delicious thrill. I could feel the tight but yielding constraint of the underskirt on my thighs, the sway and weight of the petticoats, the stern grip of the corset on my waist and back, the squeeze and lift of the bodice on my 'breasts'. Somewhere beneath all that rubber my poor penis was desperately trying to form an erection that my panties would not allow.
It was with great care that I managed the positioning of the dress as I lowered myself onto the stool. The hoops and petticoats were not well suited to the sitting position and stuck out in front of me in a way I was decidedly unused to. I realised that the only way I could draw close enough to the dressing table to use it was to sit somewhat sideways and pivot at the waist and shoulders, something that my corset did not encourage. Nevertheless, I managed the feat and was able to draw the stool close enough to the table to use the cosmetics and see my face properly in the mirror.
As I could now see in the mirror, the strange rubber hood had formed a completely new face for me. It was a smooth, emotionless and very feminine. My skin was rendered pale, doll-like and flawless, framed by tumbling blonde curls. Convincing looking eyebrows were part of this artificial face and my half-closed eyes had a languid sleepy look to them.
The only part of the real me that could be seen was my eyeballs, eyelashes and of course my mouth. I recalled that at some points in the past few days of strict training I had been made to practice with cosmetics on several occasions. It still felt shameful to do this, but I wanted to please the housekeeper so much that I didn't even consider hesitating for a moment.
I realised that I couldn't recall exactly when my practice sessions had taken place, though I recalled the lessons themselves clearly enough. Sometimes my teacher had been Nurse Five, and on other occasions the maids Nine or Nineteen. How long had I been in the hotel? I recalled Nineteen originally mentioning that my introductory training would take a week but it felt as if I’d been here for eternity already – certainly more than a few days. I reminded myself that I was prone to remember things incorrectly, but as for what facts I still had right, if any of them, I had no idea.
It was almost without thinking that I found myself fitting heavy black false eyelashes. I couldn't remember when I had learned to outline my lips with a dark red pencil and fill in the remainder with a rich red, non-smear colouring before adding a coat of gloss. That I could do all this while wearing restrictive heavy rubber gloves - three pairs of gloves in all - didn't even surprise me.
The face that looked back at me from the mirror was not my own. A feminine stranger’s face looked back at me from the looking glass world. She was pretty in a hollow-cheeked kind of way. With her long blonde hair down, and that heavy 'Hollywood' make-up, she didn't look quite as virtuous as her pretty dress might suggest. She reminded me of a Victorian tart; the sort of girl who would do almost anything in an era when almost everything was forbidden.
It was a face and body that I wanted to fuck. I was really getting myself turned on. I wondered what Housekeeper Four was thinking. Had she noticed that I hadn't moved for several seconds? Was she attracted to me? Surely not: she was a woman after all.
So far I had learned nothing of hairdressing, and so I left the arrangement of the wig exactly as it was. I couldn't help thinking it would have created a better effect if I could have put my hair up in some elaborate Victorian styled coiffure with a mass of tumbling ringlets. The strange mixture of the prim and proper with the sexy and sluttish jarred my mind almost as much as the idea that the face in the mirror was at some underlying level actually me.
Somewhere, under the dress, my penis was aching. I had been concentrating so hard I had actually forgotten about it for a time. How confusing: the more feminine I felt the more I thought about my penis.
"A good choice of face for a cocksucking whore. That is what you must do," said the housekeeper sternly in German.
While I had been busy she had apparently been donning some kind of prosthetic penis. The short crotch zip in her catsuit was open and a big black rubber cock curved proudly out of it.
"If you are satisfactory in this task you will end your novice training and begin your proper maid training. You will be initiated as one who truly belongs here. You will be able to join us properly. This is your final chance to say no to anything we ask of you without punishment, your last chance to back out of our world. How do you feel about that Number Twenty Two?" Asked the housekeeper.
I was dumbfounded. The sight of the big black penis emerging from the housekeeper's pristine white catsuit was surprise enough. To learn that I was required to suck it was only what I expected in such circumstances, but to learn that I might refuse...
"Quickly now, little maid, don't make me wait," barked the housekeeper.
Looking back, I wonder how I didn't think about the situation with Number One and the conspiracy when I made my decision. Something else was ruling my mind at the time. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the sensations, desires, tortures and pleasure of my new world were so powerful and fulfilling that I couldn't imagine ever leaving them. Perhaps my mind simply lacked the ability to refuse the Housekeeper's demands.
"Please Housekeeper, I want to suck it," I said breathily – the exact words I had practised time and time again with the computer. I said it without further prompting, and I was eager to do it. It was only sucking a fake rubber cock after all: no great sacrifice. Yes, there was some shame, some revulsion, some fear, but I recalled my training: happy and eager to please. If it meant I could please the housekeeper I would do it, and gladly.
"On your knees pretty maid," said the housekeeper.
I slipped forward off the stool, kneeling next to the dressing table, my skirts pooling around me like a sea of shining blue rubber. By moving just my eyes I could look to the side and see my head in the mirror. I watched the reflection of the pale-skinned girl with the blonde hair as she opened her mouth wide to take in the black rubber monster of a cock.
I wrapped my lips tight around the head, sucking it tightly. It wasn't as hard and unyielding as I expected, but instead had a firm softness to it. It tasted of rubber and lubricant and lip-gloss. If it smelled of anything I would never know; all I could smell was the rubber from the breathing plugs forced into my nostrils. I ran my tongue around it, licked it and teased it and tasted it, but in the end it came down to sucking. There was really something satisfying about taking that big warm shaft as far into my mouth as I could, the head rubbing against the roof of my mouth.
I looked in the mirror at the woman with the enticing makeup. Her head was bobbing up and down on a black rubber penis that emerged from the crotch of a powerful looking, somewhat statuesque lady in a white rubber catsuit. They both seemed to be enjoying it. You couldn't really see it in the mirror, but the girl was wearing an elaborate Victorian dress made entirely of rubber and she was on her knees. The parts were all there in my mind but I couldn't quite put them all together into a whole.
I felt the end of the cock push against the back of my throat and I gagged and coughed, afraid I would choke. I wanted to swallow it deeper but I was afraid of choking, or throwing up, or just not being able to breathe. I raised my white-gloved hand to hold and caress the shaft, preventing the housekeeper from ramming it in too far again.
Despite the fact it was only a fake penis, the housekeeper seemed to be enjoying herself immensely, and as I rolled my eyes up to look at her face, the look of delight on her face was unforgettable. It was only a moment, but I had never felt so needed and desirable before. The way the housekeeper was reacting to my ministrations, there was probably some electric device in the cock that stimulated her in the same way that my fake tits shocked and stimulated my own nipples when they were played with.
When the housekeeper finally came, the cock seemed to detect that too and blasted a succession of spurts of thick warm goo into my mouth. It was odd tasting stuff: bitter, salty and sweet all at the same time. I did my best to swallow it all down rather than make a mess, though a little dribbled from the corner of my mouth. I couldn't help it with the hood squeezing my face the way it did.
I rolled my eyes up again, and the housekeeper's gaze met mine. I felt afraid and tried to smile even though I had a big rubber dildo filling my mouth. Now it had spurted it seemed to be softening, which I thought a very clever and realistic touch. At the time I was caught in the moment of her eyes looking down at me as I looked up at her. I knew then that it was the pattern for my future life: I would be on my knees and she would be looking down. It felt right to submit: comfortable.
"You have passed your test Twenty Two," said the housekeeper, pulling the cock from my mouth and smearing more 'cum' down my chin.
"Thank you Housekeeper Four," I said, in German of course, just the way I had learned to.
I looked across at the mirror, turning my head slightly. I could see the thick white goo running from the corner of my mouth and smeared on my chin. I really wanted to look at myself some more, to play with my hair, to see myself in the dress, to walk around and enjoy the strange sensations. Alas, it wasn't to be.
"Now get back into your uniform, your voice still needs some work. You can continue work on it for the rest of the afternoon. You will follow your novice training until I have time to organise your initiation. Do not get over-excited: it may be a while, as there are currently difficulties I must attend to; difficulties that interfere with my usual duties." The housekeeper's voice was stern, but just for once I thought I sensed a hint of satisfaction.
I had to remove the strange mask, the lovely dress and all the other things, and get back into my usual maid's dress. I was eventually returned to the dark cupboard where I was locked to the stool. Once again I found myself repeating words into the computer. Before I lost my voice entirely, a maid appeared to release me. I was taken back to the maids' quarters. Housekeeper Four was already there. Apparently, there was nobody that the housekeeper wanted to punish, and so she kept her pep-talk short. I was so exhausted by the time that she finished that I no longer thought much about anything at all.
After the housekeeper had finished her speech we all went through the usual evening routine of enema, shower and finally bed. There was neither time nor opportunity to talk to Nineteen about my concerns, and the housekeeper watched us closely as we prepared for bed. I never thought I would be thankful for the chance to lock myself into my bed, but as I clipped the sheet into place that finally secured my rubber-mummified form, I felt a sense of relief.
Once I was locked in place. I no longer felt guilty that I hadn't dared to communicate with Nineteen. The story of my test with the housekeeper and the matter of Number One would now have to wait until the morning. There was also the problem that I was forbidden from speaking English unless instructed otherwise and I doubted I could make Nineteen understand much with my limited German unless I was required to beg to suck her cock or pussy.
I was free to think about what I did with the housekeeper earlier. I settled into a comfortable state of arousal and frustration that helped kill the jumbled thoughts in my head and let me sleep. Of course I was woken a few times by the vibrating bed, but it felt that this time I was allowed a few minutes of genuine deep sleep from time to time.
The morning of the next day was the first time that I had woken feeling better than the night before. Nonetheless, I was still very tired, and too exhausted to think clearly about anything. Nineteen began to help me dress in my punishment outfit. She worked silently and I took my chance to whisper to her in English, despite the knowledge that she would probably report me to the housekeeper for disobedience. My previous success was now forgotten, and the worries about Number One and Nurse Five were once again foremost in my mind.
"I overheard something in the clinic yesterday. I daren't tell anyone about it because it concerns numbers One, Two and Three," I whispered.
Nineteen nodded silently. There was a shocked expression on her face.
"I think Mistress Three and Number Two plan to do something bad to Number One today. They're going to lure her to the clinic with a story about Nurse Five," I whispered as Nineteen moved behind me to fasten my corset. I wasn't even sure if she could still hear me. Nineteen for her part said nothing. I couldn't see her face as she was crouched down behind me to secure the crotch straps of my punishment corset.
"I don't know what to do or how to stop them. Maybe the housekeeper is in on it too. I don't know. I don't think she would go up against Mistress Three anyway, let alone Number Two," I whispered nervously. "If only there was a way to get word to warn Number One."
Nineteen nodded as she helped with my gloves.
"I'll do what I can," whispered Nineteen.
She seemed about to say more, but the housekeeper entered the room exactly at that point, and we both fell silent. There was no further chance for conversation.
Maid Nine was put in charge of me. She started the day by buckling rubber bracelets around my wrists. She used a clip to secure them together behind my back. I realised that I had yet to even touch my injured nose, and once again I would be denied the opportunity to feel what had been done to me - if I could feel anything at all through my thick rubber gloves.
Maid Nine didn't clip a leash to my collar, but instead simply instructed me to follow. I was slow and cautious with my hands locked behind me. As usual I was afraid of falling. Even though I was becoming quite competent at walking in the ballet boots – probably at the expense of permanent damage to my toes – I knew that if I fell while restrained I could suffer a serious injury.
We entered a white room with every surface treated with rubberised paint. It seemed dazzling after the darkness of the maids' quarters. There was a large glass cylinder with some sort of electronic control panel in the centre of the room. It looked like something from Star Wars. A steel gantry stretched overhead, with all sorts of complex looking cables and hoses hanging from it. I didn't have much time to look around before the maid pulled me to the side of the room. Without even removing my existing restraints she began to secure me further.
My arms were forced into a kind of baggy single sleeve made of heavy rubber. Straps tightened around my arms and over my shoulders, locking it in place. My arms were held uselessly behind me, and my hands were trapped helpless inside a thick rubber restraint that now fit very tightly. A metal ring on the end of the hand pouch was hooked to a chain and raised up. I was powerless to resist being bent uncomfortably forward as my arms were hauled into the air. I had an inkling of arousal, but fear and tiredness killed it. Once I was securely fastened in an uncomfortable and exhausting position the maid left the room, locking the door behind her. I was alone.
Time passed slowly, while the pain in my back and shoulder constantly increased. While my legs weren't secured, they too were tired and painful. Droplets of sweat trickled into my eyes, making them sting. There was nothing I could do to wipe them away. It seemed that I had been waiting there an age when I heard somebody coming. It turned out to be Housekeeper Four. Maid Nineteen was with her. Without even hearing her voice I could tell that the housekeeper wasn't happy. She stopped in front of me and put her hands on her hips.
"Maid Number Twenty Two, why are you always disappointing me?" She demanded.
"Sorry Mistress," I said weakly.
"Once again you fail to understand the basic principles. I thought you had learned better. It seems you now have ideas about what senior staff should or should not be doing," she continued to complain.
"Sorry Mistress," I said again.
"If you do have concerns, you should bring them directly to me. However, it is not your business to have concerns. You must learn to stop interfering in matters where you understand nothing. You still seem to think that you should be allowed to decide what senior staff may or may not do?"
"Sorry Mistress," I repeated.
"You must always be completely open and honest with staff. When you keep things back you simply make a garden for your nonsensical imaginings to grow. Eventually they escape and make trouble for everyone and a fool out of you," said the housekeeper.
"Sorry Mistress," I said, and I meant it.
"When you do not say things you mislead by omission. When you mislead you lie. What happens when you lie?" She demanded.
"I am punished," I answered almost hopefully, confused.
"I know you are only a novice maid, not yet initiated, but really..." The infuriated Housekeeper was momentarily lost for words. "It's a simple question. I'll give you another chance," she paused to allow me a second to think.
"And what else?" She demanded again.
"Uh, others are punished?" I tried.
The Housekeeper sighed and buried her face in her hands. I knew I had answered badly. It would probably be worse for me now.
"Are you really so selfish?" She said.
"Sorry Mistress. I don't want to be selfish," I said wretchedly.
I just wanted to curl up and vanish, but I was trapped in place like an insect pinned out for display. I sniffed back the impending tears.
"When you lie, it hurts everyone here, regardless of punishments. It eats away at everything we stand for. It undermines everything that is good and worthy of respect. Is that what you intend? Is that why you lie?"
"No Mistress. Sorry Mistress," I whimpered.
"You are a silly girl: too often you think you know better than everyone else does, but you don't know anything. You can't imagine how much trouble you are in this time. How stupid are you?" She demanded.
"I know I am very stupid Mistress Four," I agreed sadly.
"Have you learned anything from this?" Asked the housekeeper?
"Yes Mistress: I'm a stupid maid and I shouldn't try and think. I should just obey and respect the decisions made by those above me. I should always be happy and eager to serve," I said sadly, feeling it to be true – feeling that I’d failed again because I didn’t sound very happy or eager.
"I thought you knew better than to try and hide things already," said the housekeeper.
"Sorry Mistress. I thought that too," I said.
"If you think you know something, no matter how minor, no matter who from, no matter who you think might be upset, you must report it immediately to the staff members in charge – you should not gossip about it to junior maids. Do you understand?"
"Yes Mistress," I said.
The Housekeeper grabbed my head between her hands, lifting my face to hers. Her eyes were inches away from mine, her stare terrible and intense.
"Do you really understand? Even if you are sure you will be punished for it, or that somebody else might be – even if it's dangerous in some other way. There are no exceptions. None!" She said ferociously.
She pushed me away, almost dislocating my shoulders. I moaned with pain despite myself.
"Isn't the truth worth more than your comfort, more than your muddled little fantasies?" The housekeeper demanded.
"Yes Mistress," I whimpered.
"You should just learn to do what is asked of you properly and with enthusiasm. Don't think of yourself so much. You could be such a good girl if you would just try. Is that so much to ask?" Asked the frustrated Housekeeper.
"No Mistress. Sorry Mistress," I coughed.
"As for your circumstances here: last night Number Two arranged for you to be brought here first thing in the morning. She mentioned something about a long postponed punishment being due. Given the severity of your latest folly I would have preferred to deal with it immediately and with appropriate severity," said the housekeeper.
She paused for a moment, as if weighing what she would say.
"However, Number Two has mercifully decided that your punishment for lying will have to wait until you are released from the isolation device here," she hesitated. She bit her lip then continued.
"Yes, the isolation tank is a punishment. You will find it quite extreme, and you will enter it today - but it is punishment for the trouble you made with Maid Nineteen - not for lying to senior staff. Until you are released, reflect on what else is coming to you; your behaviour will definitely be corrected," said the housekeeper in a way that made my knees weaken with fear.
“When your punishments are served, if there is anything left of you, we will see if you are worthy of advancement,” she added.
She turned to walk off. For a moment I thought I caught Nineteen's eyes. I like to imagine she mouthed the word 'sorry', but I know, as the housekeeper has said many times, I'm not very good at remembering things properly.
Once Housekeeper Four and Maid Nineteen were gone I was left alone for what seemed like a very long time. I had only depressing things to think about.
My plan to warn Number One was obviously dead and Nineteen had run straight to the housekeeper instead. I imagined that the housekeeper was probably involved in the conspiracy, or at best gave no credence to such a possibility. I hoped that if Nineteen was sorry, she was thinking of poor Nurse Five and the other maid who were now lying poisoned and perhaps brain damaged in the clinic. I knew now that I had failed them, and Number One.
I think I had heard 'isolation' being mentioned before – something to do with my punishment for getting Nineteen into trouble on my first day. I struggled to remember all I had heard about it clearly. It wasn't much, and most of it related to the plot against Number One. Anyway, I guessed that I wouldn't be going into 'isolation' and that instead Number One would take my place, leaving Number Two and Mistress Three to wreak more havoc. As for my fate, I suspected that their plan required me to disappear completely. In such circumstances, even Housekeeper Four's anger seemed preferable.
It seemed obvious now that it had been Mistress Three disguised as Nurse Five who had brutally modified my nose. There could be no other reason for the disguising hood. It had obscured her face not only from me, but from the ever watching cameras and the housekeeper's meticulous review.
In the end I couldn't stop myself from weeping with guilt and despair. The tears fell onto the rubberised floor making little splashes. At least they washed the sweat from my eyes.