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Mistress Latexa's Rubberdoll 5: The Honeymoon

by tessa

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© Copyright 2015 - tessa - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; D/s; latex; cd; catsuits; hoods; gag; bond; corset; chast; sendep; transported; strapon; insert; encased; bed; object; lesb; FF; denial; oral; climax; cons; X

story continued from part four

Part 5: The Honeymoon

The pealing of bells from the castle's belfry still rang in my ears as my beloved Mistress Latexa and I stepped into the bright sunshine splashing upon the patio just outside the wedding hall. Only moments before a lusty and heartfelt cheer had erupted from the assembled congregation as she and I were joined in a bond that could never be torn asunder, the pledging of one soul to the care and control of another for all eternity.

Now Mistress led me by my silver-plated leash chain as I took delicate mincing steps in my skyscraper boots. My ankles were hobbled as I gingerly navigated the ancient cobblestones, feeling my latex prison bend only slightly with each stride. What I remember most of that moment is the lustrous gleam of Mistress Latexa's spectacular mane of blonde tresses. Her hair seemed to be that of the seraphim, so brightly did it shine in the English afternoon; I felt bathed by it, warmed by its reflection.

Time for reflection was a luxury I could ill afford, however, as I felt the firm and insistent pull upon my chain from Mistress, guiding me towards her car and a nuptial bed whose perversity I could not even begin to imagine. Her rough tugs crystallised the new and exhilarating yet terrifying sensation that had stirred me since we exchanged our vows--that I was now property, not person, and that I would be Mistress Latexa's chattel forever.

When we reached the car, Mistress grabbed a roll of duct tape from the front seat and hurriedly tore off a strip and placed it over my eyepieces, blinding me. I had to be led forward as she pushed me down into the back seat of the car. My arms were already fastened in a binder behind me, so I could not resist as she made me lie upon the seat, invisible to the outside world as she sped off from the castle in a cloud of dust, almost recklessly negotiating the curves on the road. Such haste and abandon were traits I had not associated with the astonishing Aphrodite I venerated; what had led her to fly away from the site of our sacred matrimony with such gusto?

The passage of time revealed the answer: we had far to travel. I was utterly disoriented as we careened across the countryside; I could tell we were headed south but to where I knew not. I felt the bass rumble of powerful diesel engines beneath me and a gentle rocking motion, and I deduced we were on a ferry. It was several hours later when at last Mistress rolled the car up a long gravel driveway and turned the ignition off.

I was righted by her and the blood rushed from my head, leaving me dizzy and still unable to see. Mistress Latexa's firm grasp steadied me; I could dimly hear footsteps approaching, and then female voices, speaking French. I was led by the arm across a marble entrance; I could feel my skyscraper heels clicking on the smooth stone. I recall a spiral staircase that I navigated precipitously, my gait unnaturally shortened by the hobbles about my ankles connected by an unforgiving chain.

There was the discernible creak of a heavy oak door opening before me, and I heard it clang shut behind me after Mistress led me across the threshold. I felt her imperious, unwavering hands upon my shoulders, pushing me downwards; I simply had to trust that a seat would be beneath me, and indeed there was a sofa. Her fingers rose to the heavy rubber helmet that encased my head, stopping to stroke my gag-inflated cheeks for a moment before she removed the tape covering my eyepieces. I winced as my pupils adjusted to the sudden light; I could see that the room was illuminated by hundreds of candles that gave off an eerie, flickering glow. The walls and floor were made of the same white marble. What captivated my attention most, however, was the bed in the middle of the room. It was a magnificent gold four-poster, covered in white latex sheets that gleamed.

Though my arms were still in a binder behind me, Mistress kindly unshackled my legs as she sat next to me upon the sofa. She reached over and pulled a chilled bottle of wine from a stand beside the sofa. It was vintage Pouilly-Fuisse, an extravagant champagne. She grasped two crystal wine goblets from a small table, and carefully poured wine into each. She turned to face me, holding the glass for me in her incomparably lovely outstretched hand, ending in long fingernails painted the colour of blood.

"Tonight, my darling tessa, we celebrate our unique and eternal union. You are now, and will forever remain, my treasured, helpless doll. You shall never again experience freedom in this life, nor in the next. " She paused momentarily, knowing full well her words were searing my soul, the echo of each syllable a thunderclap that foretold the future. At that moment every sensation seemed to fuse into one: the merciless embrace of my rigid leather corset, the taut ring of my collar, the burning sensation in my calves from the ruthless heels affixed to my feet, the cool whistle of air rushing in and out of my lungs through the narrow breathing tube.

"tessa, kismet has brought you to me. I knew from the first that I would possess you one day, that I would be the only true nourishment for your body and soul. I saw in you the unformed clay that I could sculpt into a beautiful and obedient she-male, both a maidservant and a toy. " Mistress Latexa traced the base of the wine glass across my enormous breasts, the chill of the glass inflaming my desperate, yearning globes of flesh embedded in their white latex bridal gown. How I longed to cry out!

"Rejoice in the destiny you can never escape, my sweet slave slut. To our new life, beloved tessa."

Beloved. Every trial I underwent, all the surgery, the unbearably restricting bondage, the savage corsetry, my inhumane chastisement, all were outweighed by that one simple word, and the endless undiluted desire it instilled in me to serve and please my Mistress. She raised the goblet to my breathing tube, bending me forward as the tip of the tube plunged into the champagne. I inhaled, and the nectar splashed against the back of my throat; I sensed the effervescence of it but not the taste, for my tongue remained firmly entombed in the latex gag that filled every crevasse of my mouth.

It was impossible for me to sip, as the tube was the only portal of oxygen for me; I could instead take only stuttering gulps, to Mistress Latexa's ongoing amusement. By contrast, she luxuriated upon the sofa, her lips turned upward in the tiniest of cryptic feline smiles as she savoured each drop of the champagne. She well knew how the sight of her lips, ever so slightly parted as her tongue ran across her teeth, drove me to a state of frenzy, for even the most minute contours of those lush rosebuds were programmed into the deepest levels of my unconscious by now.

She was toying with me in her own ineffable manner, gently brushing the spike heel of her boot against my slender, rubberised thighs, delighting in my useless squirms. When I was beside myself with longing, frustrated beyond measure at my plight, she suddenly stood up playfully and announced, "Let's dance, my darling!"

She drew me upwards, bemused at the sight of my tiptoe steps. I heard music, though I could not detect its source; it was a slow, passionate song, with a Spanish guitar and a gentle saxophone. Mistress Latexa clasped me about the waist, her long red talons pressing firmly against the smooth flesh of my buttocks, which were tightly sealed in rubber. She pulled me towards her in an intimate embrace. She began to undulate her glorious hips against mine, leading me, controlling me.

No words exist to describe the state Mistress Latexa had transported me to. How can you describe the kind of ardent, intense and pure longing I felt at that moment, enraptured by her wide, penetrating eyes, those cheekbones that were surely sculpted by Botticelli himself, and that awe-inspiring river of flaxen hair that descended regally from her crown to the back of her neck, then downwards to graze against the fire-red latex catsuit that seemed to be her very skin?

How maddening to be so desirous, yet frustrated by the heartless chastity sleeve that encircled my penis shaft, strangling my yearnings in their cradle. How I wished to claw my way free of the fluted folds of my wedding dress, and yet my arms were decisively pinned behind me. I could do nothing but moan into my latex gag, almost in tears as Mistress Latexa placed her head upon my bosom as we danced. Every tendril of her perfect blonde waterfall seemed to curl itself about my nipples that jutted out prominently beneath the rubber. My breasts were swollen and shameless, begging to squeezed and pulled, slapped and crushed--anything to distract me from this sweetest of tortures.

Mistress Latexa, forever attuned to the deepest recesses of my psyche, sensed my agony; indeed, I suspect she revelled in it, for she next pushed me to my knees. She towered over me, basking in her Goddess-hood as she slowly, seductively undid the zip between her legs. My head was mere inches away, spellbound as her lovely flower was slowly revealed; the crushing torment of my chastity became more insistent. My breathing was rapid and shallow now, drowning out all other sounds; the eyepieces on my helmet began to fog slightly. She sat upon the edge of the sofa and produced an unusual looking dildo attached to a leather strap.

The dildo, though not particularly long, had a hole through the middle of the shaft, running up and down its length. I was too far distracted to think clearly; its purpose was not clear to me until the dildo was strapped on to my head. The dildo slid over my breathing tube, and suddenly I understood the ferocity of Mistress Latexa's ownership of me. I had become, at this moment, a mere prosthesis, a toy for her amusement. She smiled wickedly as she slowly parted her thighs; her hands were upon the ponytail streaming from the back of my helmet as she reeled me into her.

Mistress Latexa was moist beyond measure; her sweet butterfly glistened in the candlelight as I was absorbed, pulled inward, completely encased by her. Her hips thrust forward; I could feel her legs upon my shoulder, crossing themselves, locking me in a lusty embrace. She methodically drew herself forward and backwards, causing my head to rock in its stiff posture collar; I could do nothing except please her. I could not breathe while inside her; I was dependent on her mercy to expel me momentarily so that I could greedily gulp a lung full of air before she beckoned me once again into her tiny perfect treasure. I could sense a thick, mucous-like fluid forming in the back of my throat and realised that it was Mistress Latexa's ambrosia, the fruits of her desire, that I was swallowing.

Now her motions became more violent. Her torso began to undulate more forcefully, contorting itself in glorious curves of pleasure as the tempo increased. My vision was blurred as I found my head bobbing, understanding that I was the piston within her engine of ecstasy. Her thighs began to spasm, nearly crushing me with their vice-like grip; Mistress Latexa's gasps and moans were a splendid sensual symphony, rising in pitch as waves of electric arousal began to rumble through the deepest part of her being. At last she reached the precipice. Her pelvis bucked uncontrollably as she exploded in a frenzy of fulfilment. The sweet, sticky secretions of her innermost sanctum ran into my breathing tube, overpowering me. I nearly lost consciousness from the lack of air; it seemed like a lifetime until Mistress regained her composure and slowly extricated me from her loins, which were damp from the hunger within her that I imagined was now sated. How wrong I was!

Mistress Latexa reclined upon the bed, staring down at me for some time. She softly ran her fingers through her hair, preening in a way she knew would succeed in tormenting me further, for I was transfixed by her hair from the first time I had seen a picture of her. I cannot begin to recount the number of times since we met that I had longingly, lovingly brushed out her hair while it was still damp from the shower, hypnotised by its wonderful texture and the weight of every flawless strand. My anguished whimpers of pure yearning must have escaped through my breathing tube, for presently she sat up and held my leash, her fingers tracing over each silver link languorously.

"You know, tessa", she declared meditatively, "it isn't fair that I should be the only one to experience the pleasures of intercourse on our honeymoon. You've been a very good girl. I know the changes I have forced upon you have not always been easy for you, my pet. "

My heart wanted to leap out of the confines of its rubber penitentiary. She allowed her lips to form a wry smile; her eyes shone lustrous and incandescent.

"After all, a proper marriage must be consummated!", Mistress Latexa pronounced giddily.

With that, she raised me from my posture of worship. She gently escorted me to the middle of the room, away from the bed. At that moment I should have realised how horribly I had been led astray, but my adoration blinded me. The truth did not even dawn upon me when an iron spreader bar was used to separate my long latexed legs, nor even when a chain was attached to a ceiling hook and thence to a D-ring in the back of my collar. I was too distracted by the promise of long-sought release; hot blood coursed through my centre of gravity, imagining that the cylindrical tube that jailed my male remnants soon would be loosed.

Mistress Latexa disappeared behind me; I could dimly hear the rustle of luggage being unlocked and, I thought, a dry, throaty laugh from her. She crept behind me, and I felt her splendid fingers caress my firm, pendulous breasts through their stretchy sheath. She manipulated each orb expertly, kneading them betwixt thumb and forefinger, her fingers stretching, sliding, slithering across my bloated, ripe spheres. I felt her leaning against me as she reached around and cupped both of my heavy promontories, compressing them viciously. Surely my freedom was imminent.

Yes! I felt the crotch zip of my outfit being opened. The zipper began at the back; I felt the rubber give way as the zipper spread further apart; Mistress Latexa tugged on it further until it had reached the bottom of the arc between my legs, and then...

Nothing. She halted abruptly, leaving me twisting uselessly. Undoubtedly the zipper was stuck somehow, and once that was solved, I.... I... I felt something hard and unyielding pressing between my vulnerable nether cheeks. It was greasy and cold and insistent, and then my fantasies crashed to the earth. What fresh hell awaited me? The dawning of it stunned me; were I not supported by the chain rising to the ceiling, I would have collapsed. Mistress Latexa was evidently standing on a small platform that compensated for the difference in our statures; she leaned forward, her lips pressed against the rubber membrane of my helmet by my left ear.

"Did you never wonder why I kept you plugged all this time, tessa? Why, ever so gradually, the diameter was increased? Why you have been subjected to an enema regimen so severe that you can no longer expel your waste unassisted? And yet, why I have never once used you for my own pleasure in this manner?". The blood within me congealed; my larynx was arid and refused to come to my aid. "It's rather simple, really. I'm somewhat old-fashioned that way." Were more ironic words ever uttered? "I wanted my precious little girl to be a virgin for her wedding night."

I could repeat the guttural phrases she spoke while she plundered me without remorse, but what purpose would it serve? The unholy appellations she used for me while that heartless, demanding plastic intruder snaked its way inside of me, worming so far into my core that I thought it would emerge from my mouth on the other end? No language yet devised by man could begin to plumb the abyss of my defilement, nor the fruitless writhing of my abused flesh as it recoiled from the locomotive thrusts of Mistress Latexa's relentless assaults.

I felt her midriff grind against me unceasingly; some small part of the mind I had left must have deduced that the other end of the dildo pressed against her small fleshy pleasure button, now surely engorged with fervour at my degradation. I was an animated plaything and nothing more at that moment. A useful, enjoyable toy, one that could be locked in a trunk with the other devices that brought her release when she deemed fit. And yet, though I am flooded with shame to admit it, I experienced twinges of pleasure. Though I would deny it openly, my body betrayed me; I found my buttocks rising to meet her strokes and my respiration grow hot and shallow. Was this her plan for me all along?

"My dearest tessa", she recited coolly after she had at long last brought herself to a monumental climax, "now that you are mine, you shall never enter anyone ever again. You are the one who is to be entered."

Her sentence upon me was final, I knew instinctively. Appeals of Mistress Latexa's verdicts would be in vain. At that moment I did not know whether I would ever be permitted release in any form for the duration of my existence. The thought was too sadistic to comprehend. Dazed, I was unhooked from the ceiling and permitted to stand upright. I heard the door swing open, and I was turned around. There stood before me a woman perhaps a few years older than Mistress Latexa. Her features were classically Gaelic: the long, aquiline nose, the skim-milk complexion, the lips that seemed to pout even when they smiled, and the majestic tangle of loose black curls that framed her oval face. I recognised her, I thought. I once saw an elegant black and white photograph; she was twisting a chain in her fingers as she stared down the camera impassively... was it a Christopher Mourthe photo in "O" magazine? A Gunter Blum pictorial in Skin Two? Could she have been among the guests at the wedding? Lucid recollection eluded me.

She was dressed in a blue rubber sleeveless blouse and skirt, and matching white latex stockings and gloves. Her feet were clad in blue leather opera pumps with four inch heels; the colour matched her blouse. She approached Mistress Latexa, and they affixed themselves to each other in a lengthy, torrid embrace. Their mouths met sweetly and softly in a lipstick collision; their hands navigated each other's rubberclad silhouettes in a leisurely trajectory that only lovers of long acquaintance are permitted. Mistress Latexa had never mentioned her. At last they disentangled themselves and turned their attention to the motionless rubber doll that stood before them.

"The dress is simply adorable! Latexa, I believe you have outdone even yourself!" this mysterious interloper proclaimed as her gloved hand tracked across my torso, idly inspecting the folds of my billowing gown. "Thank you, Baroness! I'm quite pleased with the way it shows off her waist" Mistress Latexa replied, pointing to the waspish contour of my centre. Baroness?

"tessa, this is Baroness Annelise de Rochefort, our gracious hostess. She is Headmistress here at Chateau Persephone."

Mistress Latexa gave me a hand signal that I had been trained to interpret; I curtsied as best I could given my crushing restraints. The Baroness placed her hands above my tyrannically corseted hips as if she were using her fingers as callipers.

Mistress Latexa understood immediately. "Twenty inches", she noted proudly. "It took nearly forever to train her down that far, but it was certainly worth it, don't you think?".

The Baroness nodded her assent while distending one of my nipples within the latex. "Forty-eight triple-D?" she inquired dispassionately as she pressed my rubber-interned mounds together, distorting their circular outline.

Mistress Latexa chuckled appreciatively. "Your powers of observation haven't waned, I see."

The headmistress did not seem unduly impressed with this statistic; she grunted absentmindedly in the way the French are wont to do. My mind was rummaging through dusty books I had read in college, endeavouring to place Persephone amongst the classical pantheon. Goddess of the hunt? No, that was Diana. War? That would be Athena. Persephone was... I felt a draft in the room when I unearthed the truth from long-neglected memory. Hades. Persephone was Queen of the Underworld.

"Now that you have broken your delightful little doll in, don't you think it's time she shared the matrimonial bed with you, Cherie?". The Baroness flashed a conspiratorial smirk as she said this to my Mistress. How could she have known what had already transpired this evening? In the corner of my eye, I saw a large mirror running the length of one wall. Could it be a one-way mirror? If so, how many others lurked behind it, unseen voyeurs regaling themselves as I was subjugated?

I had little opportunity to consider it, for I was led firmly by Mistress Latexa toward the giant bed, which seemed to be tailored for someone of inhuman proportions. It was at least eight feet long, but more unusual still was its vast thickness. I estimated the two halves were at least three feet deep in total; they also seemed to be joined by a sturdy zipper that encircled the bed. Finally, I observed two holes in the centre of the mattress top, towards the headboard. The holes were perfectly circular, each perhaps the size of a large grapefruit and close together. Furthermore, I noticed a single small hole with a plastic ring around it on one side of the bed. After my earlier trials, I was weary and grateful for any respite, but who would have invented such a strange berth as this?

"It matches my specifications exactly!" Mistress Latexa avowed happily. "How can I ever repay you, dear Baroness?".

The chateau's proprietress took Mistress Latexa's hand in her own. "I have already considered that, my exquisite English rose" was her rejoinder, and then she paused. "But it wouldn't be complete without your fair tessa!".

Mistress Latexa smiled quietly but said nothing; instead, she moved behind me to undo the single-glove armbinder that I had been laced into for days. My elongated muscles welcomed liberty, but it was only temporary. Soon a shiny silver waist belt was drawn about me and locked in place, while my hands were cuffed and then attached to chains at the side of the belt. The spreader bar that pushed my ankles apart was removed, and I struggled for balance as I was ordered to bring my legs closer together. The Baroness appeared to be formulating some kind of mental report regarding my posture and bearing, for she gazed at me intently, but said nothing.

I was needed to complete their purpose? Mistress led me by my leash towards the bed; perhaps the release I long sought would be offered to me tonight after all! What lovely tryst had they orchestrated? Hope turned to curiosity when The Baroness grasped the zipper the separated the two halves of the bed. She pulled it until she had unzipped three sides of the rectangle. Mistress Latexa retrieved a two-foot length of plastic tubing and a connecting sleeve from her luggage. Wordlessly, she attached the tube to my own breathing tube and slipped the sleeve over top of the joint, thus extending the length of my only airway. The added distance the air needed to travel made my breathing more laboured still, though it was still possible to inhale and exhale properly with additional effort. Headphones were taped over my latex-covered ears.

By now I was flummoxed. What end was being served by these attachments and appliances? It is a testament to Mistress Latexa's extraordinarily diabolical intellect that I could not decipher her objective even then. Only when The Baroness lifted the top half of the bed, opening it like a clamshell, were the innards and the truth revealed to me. In the centre of the bed a cavity had been cut out on both top and bottom, in the shape of a person. A person... of exactly my dimensions. No. It could not be.

"You see, tessa? You and I will share the bed like proper newlyweds!" Mistress Latexa's voice was gleeful. I was helpless as she and the Baroness firmly pushed me down into the middle of the bed. The foam rubber was surprisingly firm; I found it impossible to wiggle my way free once I had sunk into the middle. It was not a fully horizontal posture, however. Instead, my legs and midriff were comparatively low, while my back arched upwards gently. The angle reversed at the shoulders so that my head fell backwards; I was looking upside down toward the headboard. This position left my breasts highest of all, elevated vertically. My breathing tube was carefully snaked into the hole at the side of the mattress, my only source of fresh air. The cable attached to my headphones was attached to a jack in the headboard.

Silently, Mistress Latexa and the Baroness disrobed each other, carefully undoing the zips and furling the moist, clingy latex into piles on the floor. They towered above me; I was confounded by this magisterial vision of feminine allure. They said nothing as the top of the bed was lowered on top of me slowly, and suddenly I felt nothing but naked terror as darkness began to descend. The only light came from the two holes in the top of the mattress, right next to each other. I felt my nipples being fondled roughly and realised that my bosom was being pulled through the holes, compressing and distending it as I felt the rims of each hole form a tight seal around the base of each breast. As the two halves of the mattress were zipped together, I was completely submerged in the bed; the only evidence of my existence was the two round, latexed globes of flesh that jutted skyward.

Movement was impossible; I was completely interred within the bed in absolute darkness. I don't know how long I was suspended thus before I felt their weight on top of me. It compressed my ribcage, making my breathing even harder; I had to consciously exert myself to draw air in and let it out again. Suddenly the sound to my headphones was switched on, and I could hear every sound Mistress and the Baroness made in pristine, amplified detail. I could hear sweet, soft moans that accompanied the figures above me shifting; they were making love while I was entombed in this fiendish slab. In the midst of their cavorting there was a pause, and I heard Mistress Latexa's voice distinctly. "Darling tessa, how do you like your new sleeping arrangements? Silence will be interpreted as consent." Peals of laughter erupted from both of them, knowing I was incapable of murmuring even a sound.

"Wonderful! I knew you'd approve. You'll be pleased to know the bed is being shipped back to our home after the honeymoon, as I expect I'll be doing a lot of entertaining." How she mocked me! I felt a steady, rhythmic pulse above me, and sensed hips grinding into the mattress. What began as quiet, girlish whispers escalated to a soft sonata of sighs, and then a crescendo of hurried gasps and delighted wails. They were devouring each other whole, exploring the glorious warm pliant texture of the other without restraint. Each undulation of their spasming pleasure would press against me, squeezing me with vicelike ruthlessness. They indulged themselves in carefree reveries on the surface, while I was damned, cast into the depths of...

The Underworld. Of course.

Time dilates unpredictably when one is deprived of senses; it becomes elastic and imprecise, for the only chronometer is the passing of one's own thoughts. I cannot say how many hours elapsed before Mistress Latexa and the Baroness had drunk fully from the vials of each other; their yearning voices subsided gradually. "Good night, my cherished tessa" were Mistress Latexa's final words for the evening, and I felt my bust being compacted. The lovers were lying side by side, using my full, billowy breasts as pillows for their heads. I drifted in and out of brief slumbers, unable to fall into deep sleep because of the effort needed to sustain my breathing under these arduous circumstances. I was fossilised and motionless, buried alive in an inky blackness.

I dreamt I was a beautiful white dove who had mistakenly alighted upon a tar pit, singing in terror as she was swallowed inexorably by gravity's heartless embrace into her warm, sticky grave. When I awoke my limbs were sore from futile, involuntary thrashing.

Morning came, and with it my parole. The bed was unzipped and the Baroness lifted the lid while Mistress Latexa gingerly raised me, knowing the hours of deprivation had left my arms and legs momentarily frozen. She escorted me slowly to the sofa and sat beside me, attentively stroking me and cooing softly. "I am so very proud of you, darling! Our life together will be simply magical." With those words my horror of the previous evening dissolved into dew, and I collapsed into her arms. The plastic eyepieces of my helmet concealed joyous tears; I convulsed with relief.

The Baroness approached, coolly appraising me once I had regained my composure. Both the Baroness and my revered Mistress were dressed in matching purple rubber bra and panty sets, but nothing more. They whispered confidences to each other, knowing the thick coating of my latex helmet dulled my hearing beyond that threshold. "You made a satisfactory pillow, tessa... but I think more could be done", the Baroness remarked to me. She lifted a magazine from a nearby table and held it in front of me as she sat on the other side of me. The publication was called Score; as she turned the pages I saw it was filled with pictorials of balloon-breasted porn starlets with improbable names like Candy Cantaloupes, Wendy Whoppers and Kayla Kleevage.

"Did you know all of these women had their enhancements performed by the same doctor? As a matter of fact, he is a friend of mine." She flipped to a page depicting a glossy blonde nymphet who called herself Busty Dusty. The caption dutifully noted that her bra size was 72GGG. "This one is a particular favourite", she asserted offhandedly to Mistress Latexa as they both eyed Dusty's monumental, almost perfectly spherical tanned mounds that seemed to defy physics. "On a tall girl like you, tessa, these would be perfect!".

Mistress exchanged sly glances with the Baroness as I felt my heart racing; it suddenly seemed several degrees warmer inside my white rubber skin. The breasts I had were already unmistakably large; I felt their relentless weight with every step, my muscles pulled taut by their insistent rhythmic swaying. Further augmentation was almost inconceivable to me, and yet they were calmly discussing cup sizes and surgery methods, well aware of my terror. My breasts would be so mammoth that their mere presence would be an invitation to be groped, disciplined and sodomised by all who saw me.

"Of course, she'd need further corset training to truly complete the effect, dear Latexa."

Mistress seemed momentarily nonplussed. "I haven't been able to get her below twenty inches for the last several months. What do you suggest?".

I felt the Baroness' eyes scanning my sleek alabaster latex form as if I were meat. "Well, the doctor can also remove her bottom two ribs... that will usually gain you at least two more inches off the waistline after a year or so of rigid corsetry. That might be a good time to consider shortening her calf muscles as well.... apparently, tessa hasn't fully adjusted to life in extreme heels." She gave me a withering stare.

Mistress Latexa seemed pensive and sceptical. "Does it really work? I've heard it's tricky", she murmured, barely loud enough for me to discern. They were discussing me as if I were a laboratory experiment.

"Oui, Cherie!". The Baroness lapsed into her native tongue while animatedly discussing the advantages of subjecting my legs to this medical monstrosity. "Of course, she'll have to wear metal leg braces for several months to acclimatise, and she'll never be able to walk in her bare feet again... but I rather consider those to be benefits, don't you?".

Inside, I had turned as white as the gleaming ivory rubber I had been dressed in. I would be effectively crippled in anything less than six inch heels, and able to walk only delicately and girlishly in those.

How innocent the word "doll" had once seemed to me. It conjured reminiscences of favoured childhood mementoes, carefully dressed and maintained. I thought of soft satin bows and miniature gingham dresses. I had not fully reckoned how complete my transition from subject to object would be, and that the life of a plaything freed of mundane responsibilities came at a price. I had naively imagined that our wedding would be the culmination of Mistress Latexa's program to feminize me into her plasticised she-male object of desire; now I knew, with a certainty both exhilarating and frightening, that it was only the beginning. Her plans for me stretched far ahead into a future I could not foresee. No one would ever wield more control over the life of another than she would over me, in perpetuity. She had the power to transform me into her unique and unyielding vision of a trapped living rubber mannequin; what I wished mattered not.

I had passed the point of rescue the very first time Mistress Latexa surveyed me with her haughty, aristocratic gaze. I had renounced every opportunity to free myself and return to the unhappy, lonely existence I had known, to the freedom I had squandered so often. A strange clarity and serenity filled me at that moment, even in the midst of my awful imaginings. There is a Zen-like moment of harmony that suffuses every cell of one's being when realising that only this single destiny would fulfil all of one's ancient longings. This was the only path that blessed life with meaning and wonder, and I saw it reflected in the fathomless depths of Mistress Latexa's eyes.


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