© Copyright 2012 - Nate Walis - Used by permission
Storycodes: M+/f; kidnap; latex; hobble; gloves; mermaid; sealed; nipple; catsuit; tease; toys; mast; oral; sex; climax; nc/reluct; X
Relaxed and finally having shifted down the gears until she felt that she was almost herself again, Tamara Dumas slipped into the booth and across the cracked leather of the seat until she was sitting directly opposite the man in the suit. Her last dance had ended more than an hour before and now there was no need for a performance on her part. It was no matter to her that the attention of a well dressed individual this long after she was off stage always meant the offer of serious money, if the customer was that interested in the goods he could stand to see the person behind the body that went on show every night.
If not then he could go to hell for all she cared.
Tamara sized the man in the suit up as she lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
He was an odd one, not that it was immediately obvious. But when she studied him it became clear that he was perhaps the most nondescript individual that Tamara had seen in her lifetime. His age was hard to determine, as was his ethnic background beyond the fact that he was white and possessed a head of hair the colour of sand. His features were not unpleasant, just unremarkable and his clothes were expensive, but seemed to have been chosen to make the wearer blend into the background.
He smiled at Tamara, ignoring the cloud of smoke she blew across the table.
“Nice to meet you,” Tamara cast out an opener in the hope he would respond.
“The feeling is mutual,” the man’s accent could have been anything from English to German for all she could tell.
“So,” she went on, “let’s cut to the chase and talk business.”
“Oh yes?” the man raised his eyebrow as if her words has amused him slightly.
“Ground rules first,” Tamara began her usual sales pitch, “quick proviso of what I will and won’t do and then we can move on to talking money.”
“Why would I be interested in any of that?”
“Because I don’t work for free,” Tamara laughed.
“Of course,” the man shook his head, “you are under the misplaced belief that I am here in order to hire your services for some kind of erotic spectacle.”
“That is not the case,” the man shook his head again and Tamara felt a sudden, sharp pain in her leg under the table, “I am simply here to make an initial visual appraisal of you for my employer.”
“What!” Tamara grabbed at her leg.
“Now that I am satisfied with you,” the man slipped out of the booth and started to glance around the bar, “all that remains is to hand you over to more qualified colleagues.”
She noticed a cane in his hand and a needle jutting from the tip; the whole thing was like a scene from a spy movie, seemingly so unbelievable.
Tamara wanted to get her hands on the man in the suit, shout for help or at least make a run for the exit. But her limbs were becoming heavier by the second and her thoughts more and more confused. She tried to clamber out of the booth, but as she did it occurred to her that they seemed to be alone in the bar. The fact that there were no other patrons at the tables or staff to be seen had passed her by when she walked in there, but now it was obvious that they were alone for a reason.
Over come by whatever had been delivered by the jab of the needle, Tamara collapsed out of the booth and was saved from hitting the floor by the man in the suit. He carefully laid her prone form on the floor of the bar and turned his attention from her for the last time.
Before she descended into unconsciousness, Tamara watched him straighten his clothes as if he were doing nothing more than innocently waiting for an elevator.
Then there was nothing.
The doors to the kitchen swung open noisily as two men wheeled a medical gurney into the deserted bar. Both were anonymous beneath white suits and masks that resembled hazmat gear and neither made any attempt to communicate with the man in the suit. Instead they focussed their attention on Tamara's immobile form, checking her vital signs and assessing her condition until they seemed satisfied that some unspoken condition had been satisfied.
One man slipped his hands under Tamara's arms while the other took hold of her legs and between them they lifted her quickly, but gently onto the gurney. Once she had been placed on their conveyance, the men strapped her at the wrists and ankles, making certain that she was as secure as they could make her.
With their charge in place, the men simply turned and wheeled Tamara back the way they had come, through the doors to the kitchen and out of the back entrance of the bar.
In all the time they were working in the same room as him, the man in the suit did not once make to communicate with them in any way. For all he seemed concerned they may as well have been invisible and once they had departed he did nothing more then slip his cane under his arm and walk calmly out of the front door and into the night.
At the rear of the building the men in hazmat suits wheeled Tamara across the small parking lot and towards a large van that was sitting with its engine idling. Like the men the vehicle itself was white in colour and bore no markings of any kind, it simply waited for their approach with whoever was tasked with driving it concealed behind a blacked out windscreen.
The men pushed the gurney around to the back of the van where the rear doors opened at their approach. No one was visible inside once the doors had opened and they did so almost silently, closing again once they had slid the gurney into the awaiting space and climbed in after it.
Harsh electric lighting came to life moments after the doors were closed and illuminated the interior of the van. One of the men was busy clamping the gurney to the floor while the other operated the valve on a cylinder of gas that was attached to the wall. The latter man's efforts were rewarded with a faint hiss as the contents of the cylinder were released, though there was no visible sign that anything had changed.
The gas was odourless and without colour and quite potent enough to ensure that the drug which had rendered Tamara unconscious would not need to be relied upon to keep her in that state.
Seemingly satisfied with the completion of their tasks, the men withdrew to a pair of seats attached to the wall of the van on the opposite side of the gurney to the cylinder. They fastened themselves in with seatbelts as the van pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.
The van made its way through the outskirts of the city and towards the waterfront, where in more prosperous times the docks and shipyards had been alive with activity. But time and economic hardship had left them a virtual ghost town of deserted quays and warehouses.
What few vessels were tied at anchor on that particular night were mostly rusting hulks left to their fates, but there was one that stood out only due to the fact that it had signs of life about it.
As the van came to a stop close to its mooring, there was nothing about the vessel that made it worthy of note. It could have been a tired cargo ship from any corner of the civilised world doing nothing more than sitting and awaiting its next load.
A single lookout straightened himself from where he was leaning on the ships rail at the sight of the vans arrival and disappeared into the depths of the hull.
By the time the men in their hazmat suits had removed the gurney from the back of the van, a hatch in the side of the vessel had opened. A metal ramp emerged from the darkness of the portal and clattered onto the quayside and they wasted no time in wheeling Tamara aboard.
Once all three were aboard, the ramp was drawn back into the belly of the vessel and the hatch swung closed again.
The van started its engine and drove away from the quayside and into the night.
The corridors within the hull of the vessel looked as though they had never been anything but cramped and the lack of space was made worse by the elements which seemed to have no relation whatsoever to the normal life of such a ship. Cabling and exposed wires stretched across the bulkheads and hung in thick bunches from the ceilings. Lockers set into every available nook and cranny stores equipment the purpose of which was a mystery.
Despite the claustrophobic nature of the vessels interior, the men in hazmat suits met no obstacles as they wheeled Tamara through the corridors. Any figure they met on their journey, all wearing identical garments to themselves, stepped aside neatly at their approach and allowed them to pass without incident.
Soon they passed through a door and into a large room that had been created by the removal of several bulkheads. The contents and décor, medical equipment and uniform white, identified the chamber as a medical theatre of some kind and the gurney came to a halt by the operating table that sat in its centre.
The men freed Tamara from the restraints on the gurney only to transfer her to the table and secure her once more when she was in place.
One wheeled the gurney out of the room and returned shortly afterwards, shutting the heavy door behind him. While his colleague had been absent, the other man had dispassionately begun the task of stripping Tamara of her clothes.
Though she wore almost nothing when working the pole and the podium, Tamara was still wearing far less than most even when she was officially off duty and the task of removing her clothing was not a long one. Her outfit comprised of denim cut-offs that barely reached the bottom of her buttocks, a vest beneath a fitted leather jacket and a pair of calf-length boots despite the late month of the year and the chill weather. Part of the intention of her dress was to provoke and another was to infer that no matter how cold it might have been outside, there was no way that she was going anywhere in anything that was not well-heated. In her line of business, Tamara knew all too well that she needed to project her own opinion of her worth if she wanted to have any hope of others believing it.
Whatever impression she may have made on the man in the hazmat suit was hidden behind his mask as he pulled off her boots and dropped them into a clear plastic sack by the side of the table. Next into the sack was Tamara's leather jacket and vest top, the latter slipped over her head to leave her naked from the waist up save for her bra. They were joined by her shorts after the man pulled them down her long legs and off her feet in one motion.
All that remained of Tamara's clothing was her neatly matching bra and panties, scant in size and simple black in colour. She had never felt the need to gild the lilly with elaborate underwear, and stripped down to her last layer of clothing, it was clear to see why. Tamara possessed a tall frame and a build that contained almost perfect curves in the places that one expected to see them. Her figure tended towards large, but she was ruthless in the regime that maintained her shape without loosing her feminine nature.
She was also blessed with breasts that were larger enough to be considered worthy of notice, but had never threatened to break her back. Tamara had fought more than one battle with her employers in the past to keep these free from silicone and natural in shape, convinced that no one really wanted to see something that resembled a pair of space hoppers dangling from her chest.
Most men were likely to stop and stare at Tamara when they saw her fully clothed and those that saw her at work were happy to pay for the privilege. But the sight meant nothing to the man engaged in the task of stripping her as he removed her underwear in the same manner as he had the rest of her clothing.
His task complete, the man scooped up the bag containing her clothes and retreated from the edge of the table as his colleague returned. The second man held a metal tray in one hand and a pair of sturdy clippers in the other, which he used to snip off the piercings that transfixed Tamara's nipples. He dropped the pieces onto the tray and they were joined by the jewellery that he removed from her fingers and ears. Before he left the table once more he inspected her body for anything he may have missed, white-gloved hands probing her mouth and exploring her thick, black hair. Satisfied with his efforts, he disappeared with his trophies and was replaced by his partner again.
The man returning to the table carried with him a metal bowl filled with water and a simple safety razor. He used the latter to remove any trace of hair from Tamara's groin and beneath her arms before scrutinising every inch of her naked skin for stray hairs.
He was disturbed in his studies by the sound of the doors to the room swinging open as a group of four men entered the room. Distinct from the first men in their bearing, these wore white as well, but their garments resembled theatre robes mated with the hazmat suits of the first. Their faces were still masked and the men they had walked in on needed no other cue than their arrival to hastily complete the tasks they were engaged in and leave the room.
As if aware of Tamara's presence upon the table without seeing it for themselves, the men began to attend to various unfathomable tasks in the theatre all at once.
The first to approach her unconscious form carried a long garment of a dull, black material over his arm. After a cursory gaze to confirm that Tamara was naked, he signalled to one of his colleagues to assist him as he moved to the end of the table that held her feet. Together they fed Tamara's feet into the twin holes at the top of the garment that were now visible and began the laborious task of pulling the entire thing over her lower body.
As the garment inched its way along Tamara's legs, more and more of its shape became apparent. Though made to accommodate her lower limbs, there was no way the garment would ever allow her to move them in a normal manner. Where the shape of Tamara's legs were still visible beneath the material it was clear that the garment fitted her as tightly as a hobble skirt. But in the space that would normally have remained between her limbs, this garment was filled with some kind of firm, but at the same time yielding material of a similar consistency to her own flesh. The effect was such that the spaces filled in this manner seemed to meld with the shape of Tamara's legs, creating the illusion that her lower body consisted of one long, smooth limb rather than two.
Soon the men had reached her waist and gone beyond with the edge of the garment so that it ended perhaps two inches beneath Tamara's breasts. They retraced their steps, flattening and perfecting the fit of the garment as they went until they reached her feet.
Rather than protruding from the end of the garment, Tamara's feet were covered by the same material and the gaps between them hidden in the same manner. But rather than simply cover the spaces between her feet, the end of the garment was made of stiffer stuff and actually forced them to point downwards in line with her legs. Here also the material was shaped to almost totally conceal the outline of Tamara's feet so that they could not be easily picked out from the line of her legs or move more than a small degree in any direction.
Tamara was then rolled onto her stomach and a pair of white-gloved hands made a clinical inspection of her buttocks until they located a well-hidden opening towards the point where they met the tops of her legs. Once this had been found, the hands returned with two of the fingers on the right hand lubricated and slipped inside the opening. The fingers probed inside the cavity beyond the hole, making certain that the components hidden inside the garment and within the material in the centre were present and in working order. Their job done, the fingers withdrew and Tamara was once more turned onto her back.
By the time she had been placed on her back again, the molecular adhesive that lined the inside of the garment had bonded with Tamara's skin so that there was literally nothing between her own flesh and the material that covered her legs.
Now the men attended to separate tasks that took them to different parts of her body at the same time.
One placed a metal frame into Tamara's mouth that held her jaw open as he slid a complicated object into her throat. Once he was done, he removed the frame and watched her closely until it was clear that her breathing had returned to normal.
Another man was busy pulling a pair of long gloves onto her arms. They were of a shiny, black material and reached up above her elbows. Once in place they resembled the kind of elegant gloves that might have been a part of formal evening wear save for the fact that they were made of such odd material and the space between the fingers was filled with a webbing that stretched from one digit to the next. Just like the larger garment, these were lined with the same adhesive, which bonded with Tamara's arms mere moments after they were in place.
When there was room to attend to Tamara's chest, one of the men applied a small blob of cellular adhesive to her nipples and carefully placed a rubber cap on top of them. The caps were shaped to resemble clamshells and not much larger than the nipples they covered. The adhesive bonded them quickly so that no amount of force would remove them without taking the flesh beneath with it.
Two of the men left the table and opened a locker on the wall of the room, they removed a second garment and carried it back towards Tamara. Unlike the first, this was made of the same shiny material as the gloves she now wore and the nature of the garment was plain to see.
Shorter than the first, it was decorated with a pattern of silver scales picked out against the black and ended in a wide mono-fin the same colour as the scales. The new garment could only have been a mermaids tail and the men wasted no time in making a final check as to Tamara's readiness before they aligned it with the end of the first garment which held her feet and began to pull it over the top.
Soon the tail had been pulled over Tamara's feet, calves and then her hips before it was finally tugged up around her waist. One of the men sealed the edge of the tail with a small device held in the palm of his hand before a hose was attached to a concealed valve hidden near the point where the fin began and the air quickly pumped out of the entire length.
Deprived of air, the shiny material was pulled tight against Tamara's already concealed legs, hugging the shape that the undergarment had created and making the impression of her sporting a scaled tail below the waist. The same adhesive now sandwiched between the two layers of the tail bonded them together as closely as it had the inner layer to her skin.
Her feet, forced into alignment with her legs were now in a position to form the base of the tails fin and the broad, silver flukes seemed to extend from the concealed tips of her toes. Indeed there was no outward indication of her feet at all, only the two feet of tail-fin that spread out from the base of the tail.
The final touch for the tail was completed when one of the men slipped a ribbed, black corset of a material similar but slightly duller than the tail around Tamara's waist. Beginning an inch below the point where the tail began and an inch above where the undergarment ended, it sat neatly beneath her breasts and was bonded in place with cellular adhesive to disguise the joins in the costume in which Tamara had been encased.
Finally one of the men painted Tamara's lips and eyelids with a thick substance in a colour that matched the silver detail of the tail. Far more durable than any form of cosmetics, the rubbery substance would serve the same purpose and resist any wear and tear that might await in the future.
Their tasks completed, the men tidied their tools away and left the room.
For a time, Tamara lay alone and unconscious in the operating theatre. Her chest rose and fell in time with her breathing and the rubber shells that had been attached to her nipples rose and fell at the same time.
The woman who had been wheeled into the room and stripped of her clothing was visibly still the same one that lay on the table, but the effects of the costume she had been sealed into were obvious and striking.
Tamara had been turned into a creature of smooth and shiny rubber, a mermaid that was intended to do with her tail and exposed breasts what the woman had done with her provocative dancing only hours before. But now there was no way she could twist and gyrate around a pole, Tamara was no longer physically capable of doing that.
Whatever reason there might have been for the transformation that had been wrought on her body, it seemed to matter not one iota to the men in the hazmat suits as they returned to the room and set to the task of lifting the torpid mermaid from the operating table and back onto the gurney.
As always they remained silent as they wheeled her out of the theatre and into the deeper depths of the ships hull.
Tamara opened her eyes and let out a groan that was far from seductive, but had become the first noise that tended to emanate from her the morning after a heavy night of indulgence and was now a habit that was hard to break.
For a few blissful moments her mind was fogged by the lingering effects of the anaesthetic she had been under for literally hours.
But the state of drug induced ignorance was quick to fade as the rush of realisation hit her and she recalled the bar, the man in the suit and the assault that he had committed with no hint of regret or trepidation.
Tamara needed no clues to tell her that she had been drugged and abducted from the bar where the meeting had taken place. In her line of work there was always a degree of personal danger to be feared and she had harboured a deeply buried paranoia that this kind of thing would happen to her one day.
She cursed herself for letting her guard down that one time ending up locked away in the private dungeon of some sadistic pervert, hidden from the outside world and subject to the whims of a sick mind.
Afraid of the worst, Tamara was surprised to find that her hands were not bound when she tried to move them. Something had been done to them, but she was not sure what and for the moment did not let that concern her. She had realised when she first tried to move that her legs had been restrained in some way, but if her kidnapper was stupid enough to leave her hands free then she might have a chance of using their error to escape.
Tamara sat up stiffly and rubbed her eyes as the glare of the lighting in the room made her squint and shy away while she became accustomed.
It was the sensation of a smooth, almost rubbery material against the skin of her face that made her force her eyes open and stare at her hands. Seeing them clearly for the first time, Tamara gaped at the sight of the shiny black gloves that covered them and every inch of her arms that she could see. She turned them over with a blend of shock and amazement, the webbing of the fingers almost escaping her attention at first and then raising her feelings as the strangeness of the things began to sink in.
Tamara slid her hands over the length of the gloves and reached the point where they ended; whereupon she made an attempt to slip her fingers beneath them.
She was rewarded for her efforts with a sharp pain that made her yelp despite herself, the feeling of trying to pull the material of the gloves away from her own skin as painful as that same natural part of her body being pulled away instead.
After the pain, Tamara turned her attention away from removing the gloves and instead flexed her hands, testing the sensations that were possible through the material. There was no denying the fact that she was able to experience quite delicate tactile sensations through the material and in reality the webbing between her fingers did far less than she expected to lessen the dexterity of her digits.
Tamara decided that aside from the unnerving experience of having a pair of gloves glued to her skin, there was nothing that would stop her making good her intention to release her legs and make a break for freedom.
It was only when she parted her hands to gaze down at the rest of her body that the pit of her stomach seemed to fall away and the true gravity of her situation hit her without a hint of warning.
Tamara had been there and done that as far as bondage and restraints were concerned, earned her wings with almost any kind of device and contraption that was out there in the course of her career.
But this was something new; something that left her speechless.
The first part of the tail that Tamara glimpsed was the silver, ribbed fin that extended from the end. Truly taken aback by the sight, her reflexes made her legs jump and the movement was translated into the motion of the fin flicking upwards and then down onto the ground where it made a surprisingly loud sound that filled the air like the crack of a whip.
Tamara's eyes followed the line of the tail upwards to where the shiny black of the largest part began. She noted the scales lined with silver and the shape, beneath which the shape of her legs was at once visible and yet indistinct, as though she were looking at the body of another person entirely. By the time she had reached the point where the tail disappeared beneath the stiff ribbed corset, she was in something of a daze, fascinated by the body of the rubber mermaid that she was taking in and far away from the realisation that she was the one sealed into the costume.
Finally her eyes came to rest on the sight of her own breasts above the line of the corset and she almost laughed out loud at the shells that covered the nipples. Still not grounded in the reality of her predicament, Tamara cupped one of the breasts in a webbed hand and began to inspect the nipple cap with a distant interest.
The pressure of her fingers on the rubbery surface of the shell activated the tiny mechanism inside and Tamara cried out in shock as the sensation of her nipple being clamped shot through her body. All at once she was experiencing pain and a wave of sudden physical excitement that reached all the way to her groin and made her rubber-clad body arch in shocked reaction.
After a few minutes the sensation had subsided enough for Tamara to be able to think clearly for what felt to her like the first time in ages. She was no stranger to nipple-clamps and on more than one occasion she had donned a mermaid tail to roll around in the surf or lounge around by a pool when a director wanted something a bit more exotic before she flaunted herself for their vision.
But this was something that was way out of her league and she was the first to admit that fact.
Tamara had tried to pull the tail and the corset away from her body, but the result was just the same as with the gloves and she had given up on the idea when the pain became too much to bear.
Convinced that she was effectively trapped inside the costume, a rubber mermaid until she managed to find a way to remove it, she had next tried to stand up and get a feel for the place that she was being held in. Glancing around from where she had regained consciousness, Tamara thought she was lying on rock of some kind and at the bottom of a small pit as walls of the same stuff rose around her. Overhead she could see what looked like reflected light, dancing and darting amongst stalactites with the suggestion of the sound of water in the background. The accumulated signs seemed to suggest that she was in some kind of damp cave; not that she intended to stay there for a moment longer than she could manage.
When Tamara tried to pull herself up and onto her feet, she was treated to another unexpected surprise as she managed to make it almost to a crouch before her lower body simply flopped and collapsed beneath her. She landed in a pile of shiny rubber and naked flesh, the breath half knocked out of her and a shocked expression on her face.
Terrified that she had been paralysed, that it was a part of whatever twisted scheme she had been made a part of, she carefully experimented with just what her rubber-clad legs were capable of. She was almost physically relieved to find that she was quite able to move her lower body as much as the restricting tail would allow and almost as much as she could have done had her legs been free. But no matter how she tried, there seemed no way in which she was able to make her lower body function in the same way as it had before she had been sealed in the tail.
Tamara had no way of knowing, but the length of the rubber tail had been impregnated with a network of intricate electrical contacts that reacted to the impulses of the muscles in her legs. Any attempt that she made to move would be detected by the devices in the tail and the network would fire in response to disable the electrical signals that would normally have allowed her to move her legs. In effect, the tail had been designed to force her in every possible way to effect the behaviour of a creature without legs and instead to move only in a manner that her new form allowed.
Ignorant of the nature of her impediment, Tamara was forced to discover the limits that the tail imposed on her through trial and error. Soon she had begun to resort to dragging herself upright and pulling her body forwards with the strength of her arms, the length of her tail following behind like a seal crossing a beach.
It escaped her notice, but Tamara adapted to the gait of a land-bound mermaid with no lack of speed. The movements of her body began to become more and more fluid and seem more and more natural as she tried to make her way out of the shallow hole in which she had woken.
By the time she concluded that she was strong enough to haul herself out of the hole and pull her tail up behind her, Tamara was sitting with the fins of the rubber garment folded beneath her and beating gently in an unconscious motion. Any casual observer might have thought she was becoming more and more at ease with the idea that she was a rubber mermaid as time went by.
Hauling herself up and over the edge of the pit was a task that took an alarming amount of effort and exertion, which seemed amazing when Tamara looked back over her shoulder to see that the end of her tail almost reached the bottom as her torso flopped onto the floor of the cave above.
And a cave she could now see it was.
Tamara pulled herself the rest of the way out of the pit and inched her tail up after her until she was able to roll back onto her buttocks and take account of herself and her surroundings.
She found that she was sitting on the floor of what looked like small chamber, perhaps fifteen or twenty feet in its irregular diameter. There was no visible exit save for a hole in the floor of the cave that might have been the twin of the one she had clambered out of a few feet from where she sat. The only thing that marked this hole as different was the fact that the diffuse light that Tamara had seen from the bottom of the first hole was clearly emanating from the second.
Tamara might have been a city girl to the core, but there was no mistaking the fact that the water she had suspected lay somewhere around was actually located down that hole. Her spirits rose slightly at the realisation that this discovery might contain a chance of escape.
But they fell as quickly when she recalled the fact that she was at best an average swimmer. The thought of a tunnel the length of which she could not guess and a period of time that she would be forced to hold her breath caused a twist of fear in Tamara’s stomach.
For the moment she forgot about the possibility of escape by that means and instead returned to the task of taking stock of her surroundings.
Tamara gazed up at the stalactites that covered the ceiling of the cave and then back down at the point where the reflected light emerged from the second hole. Something was not quite right to her eye when she considered the amount of light that seemed to fill the cave and the size of the hole. She rolled into what would have been a crouch for anyone not currently forced into the form of a mermaid, resting on her knees and calves a she scrutinized the light and shade in the cave around her.
Then it hit her, there was far too much light for it all to be coming from the reflections on the water in the hole. She realised once that was clear that in addition, most of the light did not move and dance like the reflected light as well. Though she could not be sure, there was something that made her think of an artificial light source hidden amongst the stalactites.
And if there was artificial light, what else might be man made about the cave?
As Tamara completed her survey of the chamber, she had to admit that right there and then the prime candidate was the large clamshell that sat atop a low shelf of rock at the back of the cave. She was sure they never grew that massive in nature and she was also sure they were never filled with cushions and pillows either.
By now her natural paranoia was becoming ever surer of the idea that she was being watched by some hidden means, but in the end it lost out to Tamara’s desire for comfort and she began to crawl across the floor towards the shell. There may have been an entire army of murderous perverts watching her and for all she cared they could go to hell. Tamara was not about to sit on a cold stone floor, feeling her backside go numb when there was a pile of cushions staring her in the face.
Tamara surprised herself with the speed that she managed to cross the floor of the cave and clambered into the awaiting shell with far less trouble than the climb out of the hole had caused her. She flopped onto the silk and satin cushions and did her best to burrow into them so that she was hidden from view, thinking that she could at least give a figurative show of defiance to whoever had dropped her into this predicament.
Though being hidden beneath a layer of cushions meant that Tamara was effectively as blind to see herself as anyone trying to watch her, she had the advantage of still being able to sense and feel her own body.
And succumbing to curiosity, that was just what she did.
Years in the more physical end of the entertainment industry had left Tamara with a quite frank and straight forward attitude to her body and she prided herself on knowing every inch of it like an old friend. But now she had found that old friend replaced by a stranger who she was still struggling to come to terms with. Determined to reassert her feelings of being in control of her own body, Tamara began to explore the length and width of her mermaids tail.
She had always been of the firm opinion that no one would be willing to believe that she was worth their attention, that she would arouse their desire to touch her if she were not the person most willing to touch herself.
Tamara's hands roamed over her body, their webbed fingers pressing and caressing her as they had so many times before as she performed. Now they explored the feel of her breasts as they sat bared above her corset and barely stroked the nipple caps before she was again awash with sexual pleasure from their tightening on her buried nipples beneath. She stroked her stomach as the muscles under the corset moved in a motion that seemed as seductive for a mermaid as any woman.
There was a moment of genuine disappointment when her webbed palms pressed down on the portion of her tail where she estimated that her vagina was buried. Tamara could get no reaction regardless of how hard she tried, a fact left her disheartened for a moment to be deprived of the ability to pleasure herself, something she had always seen as her own private privilege.
Dwelling on more practical matters led her hands to circle around and begin to caress her own buttocks. Whoever had designed her tail was someone who appreciated the qualities of a woman from behind was well as in front. Her buttocks could be felt and she was sure seen through the material of the tail, a realisation that restored some of her positive feelings as Tamara knew herself to be perfectly able to use that part of her body like a hypnotic charm.
It was while she was allowing herself to dwell upon the buttocks and the power they represented that her fingers happened upon the opening in the tail at the base of her backside. Surprised at first, Tamara probed the vertical opening gently and then slipped two fingers inside when it yielded to her attentions.
Thinking at first that it was nothing more than a convenience for the call of nature and lost in speculation as to how that would all work, Tamara's fingers wandered deeper into the hole until she was shocked out of her reverie by another burst of sexual stimulation. She pulled her hand out as the length of her tail lit up with feeling like a monumental g-spot, her fins flapping and sending cushions and pillows flying out of the shell around her.
Tamara regained her composure and slipped a more careful finger back into the hole, where she tested her theory with aching slowness at first. She was rewarded with a sensation that built in intensity this time as her practised hand played instinctively to confirm the fact that a passage to her vagina had been built into the material that sat between her legs within the tail. But this was not some mundane rubber tube, it had been made as sensitive as her own flesh and as warm and soft as the entrance to her intimate parts.
Somehow she knew that fluids from her own body would interact with this man made passage well enough to make penetration a simple matter. Tamara realised that she was not intended simply for show; someone had designed this rubber mermaid to have all the working parts.
But there was more, she thought as she brought herself to a satisfying climax. The point of access in her tail was more than just a hole through which she could be fucked. Care had been taken to ensure that she could gain pleasure from the experience as well. It was an aspect of the odd situation that she found herself in that pulled Tamara in different directions, making her think on the one hand that she was being prepared for a humiliating spectacle and at the same time arousing her curiosity as to the possibilities of her new body and the promise of experiencing them.
In the end the part of her that loved to put on a show won out for the moment and she decided on impulse to show whoever might be watching just what they had on their hands.
Tamara was no stranger to performing on her knees and she turned onto her belly before rising up from amongst the cushions, hands behind her head and launching into an improvised routine that showed why she commanded such a price back in the real world. Part of the performance was intended as an act of defiance and part to confirm to herself just what Tamara the rubber mermaid was capable of. As she moved, she became more and more confident in the motions of her breasts, tail and fin, making them answer her every whim and command.
Only when she had exhausted herself did she slip back down amongst the cushions and fall into a deep sleep.
Tamara dreamed of deep seas, crashing waves and found herself lost in their heart.
She woke in a momentary state of confusion, buried amongst the cushions and puzzled as to why her legs were unwilling to do as she told them. But the disorientation passed quickly and she was once again aware of the predicament that she was in.
There was no way to tell how long she had slept; it might have been minutes or days.
Tamara supposed that she should have been filled with a sense of anger and resentment, hurling abuse at whoever was watching her and trying to find any means of escape that she could.
But instead she found that there was an odd sense of what could have been described as stillness, peace or even, dare she say it: happiness.
She had fallen asleep, lost herself in dreams and then woken not to the sound of an alarm or someone hammering on the door, but to the gentle sound of the water lapping away in the far end of the cave.
Tamara had lived her entire life in the city and spent every waking moment experiencing the noise, clamour and speed of modern life on a daily basis. She had never questioned the pace at which things happened around her and she had simply swum with the tide and accepted that there was no time to waste not making headway in the world. Her life had been little more than a sliver of personal space squeezed in between obligations and expectations placed upon her by others and even by herself.
Perhaps it was the radical change in the pace of her existence that had altered her perception of her abduction and transformation into a rubber mermaid. She was aware on a basic level that she had been drugged, kidnapped and placed in a position of almost total subjugation, but for some perhaps perverted reason she had seized on the fact that she was free from the chaos of her normal life and felt liberated by the experience.
Maybe she secretly revelled in the fact that this had removed all of the pretence from her relationship with those who wanted something from her. There had always been an element of the act of negotiating terms that made Tamara weary, a feeling that on some level it was all false and simply for show. If she was honest, a part of her would have been far more at ease with the idea of being able to pick and choose who she performed for on the merit she saw in them and what they could offer her in return.
Was not this a similar situation?
Strange as it was, no one had seriously harmed her or forced themselves on her.
Tamara ignored the part of her mind that suggested that the forcing might come later.
No, she was not being forced to do anything beyond sit around a cave and pretend to be a mermaid and compared to some of the paying customers and their requests she had dealt with in the past this was a free spa holiday.
The rumble of her stomach pulled her away from that line of thought and Tamara realised that her hunger had been stirred by the scent of food nearby.
Pulling herself through the cushions to the edge of the clam shell, she saw that a tray had been deposited next to what she supposed was her bed while she slept. Standing on legs that brought it level with her curious eyes, the tray held a number of covered platters that Tamara wasted no time in uncovering to reveal the contents beneath.
The first platter made her eyes widen as she saw that it contained a whole lobster, the second a selection of crabs and muscles. Tamara uncovered a third and found a plate of smoked fish; salmon and mackerel all she recognised alongside a half dozen more that she had never seen before. The last platter held what she took to be a selection of sushi arranged artfully around small, but nevertheless whole fish.
Tamara glanced over the assembled food before she committed to eat anything.
She had always been very fond of seafood, but the mysterious appearance of the meal was confirmation that there was a hidden way in and out of the cave. Someone had entered while she slept and left without any other trace than the tray, or so it seemed.
Tamara scanned the room and saw that she had been wrong, the tray was not all that had been left behind.
A few feet from the clam shell stood what looked like a set of wooden steps, painted aquamarine blue and reaching perhaps three feet off the ground. Tamara had a suspicion that she had seen something similar before, but she felt another protest of hunger and decided that the steps could wait.
The same perverse sense of defiance and showmanship took over as she decided that her anonymous watcher wanted his mermaid to play the part and eat the banquet he had provided. She thought that he should count himself lucky she was quite adept at making the simple act of eating a spectacle worth watching as closely as any dance she could have performed.
Tamara curled her tail beneath herself and leaned over the platters of seafood, inhaled the scent, which she had to admit was wonderful, and started on the smoked fish. She dangled strips and ate them as though this was the fare she was accustomed to and anything that did not swim in the sea would have been alien to her. Every mouthful she savoured and allowed her face to reflect the pleasure she was experiencing, not a hard act to sell as the fish was wonderful and she relished every morsel that she ate.
She played more with the sushi, guessing that it had been added to her meal as a quirky choice rather than a mainstay, but the grand performance was to be the lobster itself. Tamara twisted the claws off with a practised hand and broke them open with the nutcracker provided. She practically sucked the meat out of the claws, surprising herself with the speed she was able to do so. Next she twisted the tail off and picked at the meat more sparingly, saving her appetite in order to prolong the performance. She finally tore the belly of the lobster open and daintily picked a few choice morsels from within before turning her attention to the whole fish that had been surrounded by sushi.
Tamara had no intention of eating the entire fish, the thought was off putting and out of the question. But the devil was in her now and she was determined to end the performance with something memorable that would seal her portrayal of a creature that was both alluring and possessed of insatiable appetites.
She plucked one of the fish from the platter and deliberately distancing herself from what she was about to do, slipped it between her lips. Tamara slid the fish back and forth, making the act as suggestive as she was able and trying to express the fact that she was satiated as far as her hunger was concerned, but there were other desires that food would just not satisfy.
The fish had made perhaps half a dozen processions in and out of Tamara's mouth when she slightly misjudged the movement on the way in. The fish made contact with a point in her throat that would normally have triggered her gag reflex, but instead it rubbed against the curious device that had been secreted in her gullet during her transformation into a mermaid. Rather than allowing her muscles to go into spasm, the device caused them to contract sharply and pull the fish down her throat in a mere three seconds of shocked motion.
Tamara felt the whole fish make its way down her throat and into her stomach with a mixture of shock and amazement. Somehow her gag reflex had been replaced with the mother of all sucking reflexes and she was stunned as she tried to fathom why.
But then she glanced back at the set of steps and suddenly she recalled where she had seen something similar in the past. Was it not very similar to the things that trained seals pulled themselves up on to sound horns and wave to an audience?
The two elements came together in Tamara's mind in a realisation that shocked her for a moment and then began to stimulate the more cruel and playful part of her personality. It was clear to her now that her captor wanted to have the blow job of his life and he wanted to have it given to him by a rubber mermaid who was capable of sucking the rivets off a ships hull as well.
Perhaps the proposition was not all that bad from her side of things, but Tamara was willing to bet that her gentle treatment so far was a guarantee that her captor intended to wait until his mermaid was ready and willing.
And if there was one thing that she was good at, it was making those that wanted her wait at arms length while she reminded them of just what they wanted and why.
It was true to say that Tamara had lost track of time, but the fact that she was at the beck and call of no one and solely concerned with playing the part of a rubber mermaid absorbed her completely.
She spent uncounted hours in the cave performing the actions that she supposed a mermaid would fill her days with.
She preened herself as best she was able with what she had to hand, using the surface of the water for a makeshift mirror. When she next awoke she found a basket of brushes, combs and ornaments to aid her with the task.
She overcame her trepidation and explored the pit and its water, finding that below was a chamber perhaps three times the size of the cave, but with no discernible exit. Emboldened by her new found purpose, Tamara adapted well to swimming with her tail, actually aided by the fact that she was a poor swimmer with her own legs. Forced to adapt, she quickly learned to make the best use of the powerful limb and felt graceful as she made use of it. When she clambered out of the pit, she found towels and hot, mulled wine waiting for her.
Once when she settled down in her clam shell to sleep, she discovered something hidden amongst the cushions. Her hands retrieved a sleek and expensive vibrator from where it had been secreted and Tamara could not help but let out an almost shocked laugh at the sight of the thing.
But she was in a state of satisfied happiness and more than willing to play along with the less than subtle hint.
Accompanied by the low hum of the toy, Tamara burned away the last of her energy and made this a more sedate show than her audience was used to. She built slowly and surely, teasing at first before inching ever closer and closer until she was as desperate for the conclusion as anyone who might have been watching her. Finally her back arched and her tail curled with her climax and she flopped into the cushions, every last ounce of her energy spent.
Before she sank totally out of sight, she gazed into the distance and beckoned with one finger in a gesture that she hoped would be understood.
I'm ready, she spoke through the gesture, come and get me.
When she awoke, Tamara sensed that for the first time she was not alone in the room and the revelation sent a shiver of trepidation and excitement down the length of her spine.
She sat up from amongst the cushions and smiled as she laid eyes upon the figure standing silent in the middle of the cave. The figure was clad from head to foot in a black body stocking that clung to his blatantly male form, revealing every detail save for his identity. The man in black made no sound or any move, but simply faced Tamara with his arms crossed over his chest.
The silent type, she had come across this before and Tamara had always found that the best approach was to do the vast majority of the work herself and simply allow such a supposedly impassive front crack as it inevitably would. She was sure that no matter how much the man in black might have believed in the stance he was taking, this was a scenario that he had constructed, a dramatic scene he had created. Tamara was sure that this was what he wanted and there was no way he could do anything but be drawn into her performance for the simple reason that he was bringing to life his own fantasy with her playing the lead role.
Tamara swung her tail over the end of the clam shell and stretched as if shaking off the last remnants of sleep and then began to make a grand tour of her body. She pulled her hair back and traced a line down from her neck to her breasts with her webbed hands where she caressed their mass beneath her palms. Twisting the nipple caps, she allowed the sensations of pleasure to manifest as flicks of her tailfin, all the time building her own feelings of stimulation and desire. She braced her hands against her corset, breathing as though it were too tight and threatening to make her swoon before moving down to where her tail began, stroking the rubbery scales and smiling to herself as if aware of a devious secret.
She leaned back into the clam shell on her elbows, raising her tail as she reclined and flipping her fins all the time. Tamara teased the man in black with the length of her tail, fanning the silver fin before him as she might normally have coaxed a man with her naked legs.
Then she slipped forwards and out of the clam shell, onto the floor of the cave. The fall was no more than a few feet and she knew from experience that the material of the tail would cushion her from the impact.
Once on the floor of the cave, Tamara pulled herself towards the steps, watching as the man in black made his own way towards them from the opposite side. She hauled herself up each step like a seal until she came to rest, propped up on her elbows with her head in the perfect position for the task at hand.
Tamara glanced up at the man in black with a wicked look in her eye at the same time as her hands cupped his groin. She had his attention as attested by the fact that he was not only looking down at her, but his member had certainly responded to her efforts even before she had it in the palm of her hand.
It was true to say that for her own part, Tamara was swept up in the experience with no hope of doing anything but seeing it through to the end. She felt almost subsumed beneath the identity of the rubber mermaid that she had spent time and effort creating, for some reason proud and filled with purpose to have been chosen as this man’s plaything above anyone else.
She was determined to make this the best performance of her life.
Her hands found an opening to the crotch of the body stocking and she slipped her fingers inside, deftly pulling his member out of its hiding place. When it emerged, she saw that it was sheathed in some kind of black latex that resembled a condom, but did not end at the base. Instead it continued inside the stocking and ended she knew not where. Not that it mattered, the sheath obviously served the same purpose as a contraceptive and she simply forged ahead with that in mind.
The man in black was quite aroused, but Tamara was a good judge of such things and was sure there was room for more. She stroked and teased the shaft, pressing it between her breasts and bringing it tantalisingly close to her lips until the size had grown to her liking.
Only then did she close her lips around the head and gently ease the length of his penis into her mouth. Tamara had done this many times before, but she tried to make this something more, something memorable and truly special. As the tip reached the point in her throat where the device had been implanted, she felt the muscles contract as she pulled at him with unnatural strength.
He felt it too as his body stiffened and a hand clamped onto her shoulder. Tamara felt the man in black’s free hand reach down and stroke her breasts, stimulating the nipple caps and further arousing her body beneath him.
Suddenly he tensed and Tamara realised that she had brought him to his limit.
No, she thought as she released his penis and pulled herself upwards as far as she was able, this is not enough.
The man in black had taken a step backwards, reeling slightly from the release. But then he regarded her with a look of interest and stepped forwards again.
Tamara lowered herself from the steps and crouched on the floor of the cave, her backside raised and a look of urging that bordered on the desperate on her face. He perceived her meaning and made to crouch down over her, but she shook her head and pointed to the clam shell.
The man in black needed no further cue and he scooped her up off the floor of the cave, carrying her to the clam shell and dropping her gently onto the cushions. Tamara almost burst with the pleasure she felt as she was carried and caressed, the experience of being treated as a creature of pure and simple pleasure liberating her in a bizarre and unexpected way.
He climbed into the shell with her and rather than simply turning her over there and then, not that Tamara would have stopped him, the man in black turned his attention to his mermaid’s body with an eye for detail. He explored her, stroking and stimulating as if determined to know every inch of her flesh and at the same time building her desire with every touch.
Finally he allowed her to roll onto her stomach and mounted her, the relief that Tamara felt as his weight pressed gently down on her tail almost slipped out as an audible moan. She felt everything from the first brush of his penis against the lips of the entrance at the back of her tail, the sensation of him moving through the tight passage to her vagina and the final feeling of him entering her own body.
The experience of entry forced her to climax right there and then, but moments later she was pushed even further as he continued to move inside her. Now she did cry out, trapped in the form of a rubber mermaid and forced to experience every sensation her body was alight with feeling and intense pleasure. Tamara wanted to move so badly that it almost hurt, but instead she simply writhed her tail and desperately beat her fins, her webbed hands almost clawing at her capped nipples.
In that moment she would not have recognised Tamara Dumas; she was with every fibre of her being a rubber mermaid who wanted nothing more than to be played with and pleasured as long as she was able. That was all she was, all she had ever been and all she wanted to be. Had she been offered the choice there and then she would have given up everything to stay in her cave, sleep in her shell and swim in her pool…and be his plaything.
When she finally climaxed for the last time the experience was too much for her and she fell into the cushions, exhausted and gripped by sleep.
Her dreams were those of a rubber mermaid and the woman known as Tamara Dumas was a fictional character in a story she vaguely recalled and did not properly remember.
Tamara woke with a feeling of deep satisfaction filling her and recalled the time she had spent before falling asleep with a smile. Alone and able to indulge, she slipped one hand down to her breasts and another to the back of her tail to relive a small portion of her pleasure on her own.
It was only when her naked fingers found her uncovered nipple and the same digits felt the skin of her buttocks that Tamara came fully awake and realised that she was laying in her own bed.
The harder realisation was that her legs were back and she was Tamara Dumas once more.
She sat up and glanced around the suddenly familiar surroundings of her small apartment and knew that she should have been feeling the deepest sensation of relief and liberation in her entire life.
So why did she feel vulnerable, rejected and sad?
She was free, in control and able to go where she wanted to do what she wanted.
So why did she miss a cave, a clam shell and a ridiculous rubber tail?
Tamara fell back into the bedclothes and sank under the inescapable feeling that no matter how free and liberated she was, she would never be needed, desired and worshipped as much as she had been by a person who took those things away from her for a time.
Was it really too much to ask?
Would she have ever regretted gaining all that for the price of her legs and her liberty?
The man in black sipped his drink as he turned over a small object made of rubber in his other hand. Closer scrutiny revealed it to be made in the shape of a shell, the twin of a second which lay on a low table in front of him.
Not for the first time he compared himself to some kind of vampire; a creature that needed to feed on the life force of another sentient being in order to survive.
It would be a while before he needed to, if you like, feed again.
The last one had surpassed his expectations and he had been ambivalent for some time as to the issue of whether he released her or he did not.
So far he had always chosen the former, but he suspected that the day would come when he did the latter instead.
The rest of the costume was stored away in a very safe place should the desire for another encounter with such a creature arise.
He was sure it would, but the question he could not answer was whether he would be happy to catch a new one or he would need to land the same prize for a second time.
Not that she would be less than willing.
He glanced at the tablet on the arm of the chair and watched as the surveillance software followed her every move. So far she had searched the internet no less than three times a day for information on makers of tails, organised events where they were worn and more discreet sites where things went on behind closed doors.
It seemed that he had made a mermaid of her in more ways than one.