Part 15
Quiz
The month that followed Evelyn’s offer became a crucible of obsession for Elise. Her modern apartment, normally pristine and austere in tone, transformed into a war room. Texts on folklore, thick books with gold-embossed covers and fragile pages, lay open across the counters. She had a dozen tabs open on her laptop: Romanian vampire mythology, European witch trials, vampire films from the 1920s to the streaming era. Her morning routine now included a review of Dracula film adaptations. Her fitness sessions were overlaid with audiobook lectures on Slavic mysticism.
She barely slept. Not out of nerves - at least, that’s what she told herself - but because there was too much material to master, too much at stake. Elise had always succeeded by outworking everyone. It wasn’t talent, it was perfectionism. Ruthlessness. The quiet voice in the back of her mind never let her forget that she wasn’t born into this world - she had clawed her way in. And she’d be damned if some girl with soft hands and a basic service job would edge her out of the chance at a major client.
She began practicing aloud, repeating complex names and historical facts while pacing the corridors of her penthouse. Mirrors served as silent audiences to her sharp, confident recitations. Her self-worth fused with her ability to recall even the most obscure detail. The need to dominate Claudia consumed her thoughts.
Elise studied at her desk late into the night, taking notes with a fountain pen, sipping black coffee from a porcelain cup. When her vision blurred, she splashed cold water on her face and opened another document. At work, she minimized spreadsheets and scrolled through vampire encyclopedias instead. Her assistant noticed, but Elise's name carried too much weight to question.
Meanwhile, Claudia moved through her own preparation with quiet steadiness. She had grown up hearing tales of forest spirits and blood-thirsty strigoi from her grandmother. Her knowledge wasn’t academic - it was intimate. The details of cultural myths were second nature. She read a few articles, revisited an old journal where she’d once jotted down eerie stories told to her as a child, and made a list of common vampire tropes.
Unlike Elise, Claudia didn’t view the event as a career-altering battlefield. It was a performance, a display, a nice to have opportunity. She trusted her instincts, and while she wasn’t thrilled about the stakes, she accepted that this was Abyss. Everyone consented. Everyone took risks.
The night of the quiz arrived. Abyss glowed more theatrically than usual. Crimson and silver lights shimmered from high chandeliers. The crowd had gathered in full force, seated around the central stage as if for a cabaret show. Word had spread: Elise vs. Claudia. An unusual pairing, but Evelyn had personally announced it as a spectacle not to miss.
Backstage, Elise stood in front of the mirror, applying final touches to her makeup. Her long dark gown of velvet and lace hugged her figure like shadow incarnate. Her nails, lacquered in blood red, tapped against her bracelet as she muttered vampire trivia facts under her breath. She turned sharply as Claudia entered.
Claudia wore a folkloric-inspired ensemble: a corset laced over a long black skirt, embroidered subtly with crimson thorns. Her dark curls fell over one shoulder. Her presence was magnetic in an earthy, feminine way that irked Elise.
"Good luck," Claudia said casually.
"You’ll need it," Elise replied, her voice sweet with venom.
Then Evelyn arrived, flanked by two silent attendants in latex. She smiled like a queen about to watch her court fight for her favor.
"Ladies," she greeted. "You know the rules. Each of you will answer ten questions. Alternating, with a chance to steal if the first falters. Audience may react but not assist. You both agreed to propose forfeits for the loser. Let us hear them."
Claudia stepped forward first, composed. "If I win, I want Elise on stage. Full nudity. Bared for all. Oiled up. And whipped. Ten strokes for every point difference. I want her to feel the sting of humility."
A murmur rippled through the audience. Elise's lips parted slightly, a flicker of disbelief passing through her eyes. Stripped, her, in front of everyone?
"That’s bold," Evelyn mused.
Elise inhaled. She refused to show how rattled she was. "Very well. If you win, enjoy your fantasy. But if I win…"
She turned, fully facing Claudia.
"You will spend the night in full rubber enclosure. A complete suit. Toe socks, gloves, hood, gag. Arms in a reverse prayer tie. Hogtied. No comfort. No mercy."
Claudia blinked. Her mouth opened, then closed. She hesitated, visibly unsettled. "That’s a bit extreme… Could we - maybe something else? I don’t do well in full enclosure."
Elise’s smile widened. "Oh no, darling. This is Abyss. And you set the stage with your little whipping fantasy. You wanted stakes. Now you'll get them."
She turned to the crowd with a performer's flair. "Picture it. You, sealed up, latex gripping every inch of you. Your arms folded tight behind your back, your legs pulled up in that delicious curve. Breathing shallow through your hood. Time dripping by as slowly as your sweat beneath the rubber."
Claudia flushed. But she didn’t step back. After a long pause, she gave a tense nod. "I accept."
Elise smiled coldly. "Good."
From one of the sofas near the back of the lounge, Lena sat with a drink in hand, her eyes locked on the stage. The quiz had begun only minutes ago, but the tension was already tightening like a drawstring. She leaned slightly toward Mina, who sat beside her in a deep green latex sheath that gleamed in the crimson light. "Tell me that woman didn’t just wager a full hogtie gagged in latex," Lena murmured, her voice a blend of incredulity and reluctant admiration. "That’s not a forfeit. That’s a nightmare night."
Evelyn clapped once. "Then let the game begin."
The spotlight fell upon them. Evelyn read each question with the tone of a priestess announcing prophecy.
Round One:
Evelyn: "Elise, name the 18th-century French vampire trial that inspired numerous romantic vampire novels."
Elise: "The Trial of Arnaud Pallier, 1761."
Correct.
Round Two:
Evelyn: "Claudia, what is the difference between a strigoi and a nosferatu in Eastern European lore?"
Claudia: "Strigoi are the reanimated dead who return to drink the blood of the living. Nosferatu is a modern fictional term, popularized by Murnau’s film."
Correct.
Round Three:
Evelyn: "Elise, what vampire myth originated from the village of Medveja in Serbia?"
Elise: "The tale of Petar Blagojevich, one of the earliest recorded vampire cases."
Correct.
As rounds continued, Elise racked up correct answers at lightning speed. Her tone was clipped, her answers precise. Claudia kept pace but faltered in Round Six on a film question. Elise stole the answer.
By Round Eight, Elise’s confidence began to bloom outward - her shoulders straightened, her smile curled with satisfaction. She could feel the crowd leaning in, drawn to her momentum. Claudia faltered again in Round Nine. Another point.
In the lounge, Mina chuckled softly, not taking her eyes off the stage. "Elise doesn’t play. I don’t know whether I hate her or want her to mentor me for a week. Look at her - she’s answering these like she wrote the books herself." Her eyes tracked Elise’s precise posture, the way she seemed to recite answers with the coldness of a litigator and the flair of a stage queen. "She’s not just trying to win. She’s trying to end Claudia."
As the point gap widened, Lena took another sip and sighed. "Claudia walked into this thinking it was a simple game. Elise brought a war plan. You can see it in her eyes - this isn’t just about trivia. It’s a reckoning. You don’t hit someone with full enclosure reverse prayer unless you’re settling scores. I bet she holds a personal grudge against Claudia."
By the final round, the difference was five points.
Claudia’s final answer was incorrect.
Evelyn announced with slow pleasure: "Final score: Elise eight, Claudia three."
Evelyn smiled, delighted. "A decisive victory. Ten lashes per point difference, was it not? That would make fifty lashes Elise is not going to feel. And Claudia’s body shall be gifted to the rubber for the night."
Elise let out a soft exhale. Not quite a laugh. But close.
Claudia bowed her head respectfully. She did not flinch. She had lost. She accepted it.
The crowd stirred with anticipation. The two attendants stepped forward, one placing a hand on Claudia’s shoulder, guiding her backstage. The audience didn’t cheer, but they buzzed with quiet thrill. The evening had delivered exactly what Abyss promised - grace and cruelty in equal measure.
When the final question was called and Evelyn announced Elise as the winner, Mina leaned back in her seat and gave a low whistle. "Eight to three. That’s brutal." She glanced sidelong at Lena, her latex gloves resting lightly on her thigh. "And now Claudia’s going into the suit. Full rubber, reverse prayer, hogtie - she’s going to be one tight breath away from madness by midnight."
Lena nodded slowly, her gaze lingering on the retreating figures on stage. "It’s cruel, yeah. But honestly? Still more merciful than the Needle Frame. No sharp points, no nerve-mapped precision pain. Just… silence, sweat, and rubber. I’ve seen worse." She swirled her drink absently. "Though that reverse prayer tie is no joke. Elbows kissing behind your back for hours? You either break mentally or you sink into some kind of trance. Either way, it’s not just a punishment - it’s a mind game."
"I heard," Mina said, lowering her voice slightly, "that Elise has a history of this. That she doesn’t go for traditional punishments. No crops, no whips. Not much pain. More … sophisticated. Just rubber. Lots of rubber and denial." She shook her head, half in awe, half in disapproval. "There’s something surgical about the way she punishes. She doesn’t want screams - she wants total surrender."
Lena exhaled, her eyes still on the stage. "Well, Claudia’s about to learn exactly what that looks like. We’re just here to witness it."
Elise didn’t watch Claudia go. She looked to Evelyn instead.
"Tomorrow?" she asked.
Evelyn gave a rare nod. "He’ll contact you personally. You did well tonight. Efficient. I expected no less."
As Elise descended the stage steps, applause ringing in her ears, a strange emptiness settled beneath her pride. She had crushed her opponent. Won the opportunity. Ensured her standing.
And yet, the fire in her chest didn’t burn clean. It felt more like smoke.
Elise floated on victory. She descended the steps of the stage like a queen retreating from coronation, her heels clicking against the dark lacquered floor, the echo chased by the whispers of a hundred admirers. Abyss throbbed with warm approval. The crowd, sated by the spectacle, turned now to drinks and soft laughter, their eyes glittering behind golden and silver masks. Elise basked in their regard. The evening’s spectacle had left the crowd buzzing. Elise was riding high. Everything had gone to plan. No - better. The questions had come easy, her answers sharp, her poise untouched. Claudia? Predictably shaken. Predictably defeated. And now, the time had come for her reward - not just the rubber, not just the spectacle, but the power of watching another woman descend into the depths she had meticulously prepared.
Claudia had been led off without drama, her head bowed but her spine straight. Elise admired that, distantly. But admiration was not forgiveness. Not for the humiliation of suggesting she be whipped on stage like a common degenerate. No, Claudia would suffer her own imagination now - and Elise would make sure of that. Backstage, under the red-hued low lighting, Claudia stood quietly near the preparation area, nude, arms folded tightly across her chest, jaw tense. The rubber suit lay in glistening folds beside her on a stainless steel tray - black, thick, and gleaming with an almost organic sheen. Its presence was heavy. It seemed to breathe on its own, pulsing slightly under the light. Elise hovered nearby, arms crossed, radiating superiority, a slow smirk resting on her painted lips. Two attendants stood at attention, masked and silent as always, awaiting the signal.
"Shall we begin?" Elise asked, her voice honeyed and theatrical, directing the question not to Claudia, but to Evelyn, who watched from a velvet-backed chair near the edge of the room. Evelyn nodded once, the gesture subtle but decisive.
Claudia took a step forward, then hesitated. "I’d like to offer a different forfeit," she said quickly, her voice low. "Something less… enclosed. Perhaps something public instead? Whip me?"
Elise blinked once and then laughed softly, like a cat purring before the pounce. "Oh, no. You’d probably like that. That won’t do. Not after all this planning. We agreed. You said yes. And Abyss honors consent, not excuses. It is time for your binding.“
She stepped closer, her voice lowering into an intimate murmur, just for Claudia. "This suit is your lesson. A lesson in submission. A night of clarity. And most importantly: a reminder that you are under my rubberization rules."
Claudia’s eyes flicked to Evelyn, but there was no rescue to be found in the Mistress’s calm, indifferent gaze. Elise leaned in again, enjoying the tension in Claudia’s posture.
"You’ll be sealed completely," Elise whispered, voice edged with theatrical cruelty. "Toe socks, gloves, hood, every inch of you gone. And not just worn - no, bound. I want your elbows kissing behind your back. Your legs bent tight, heels touching that lovely little backside of yours. And the silence will stretch on… for hours."
Evelyn added, "Until sunrise."
She turned to the attendants. They waited for her without expression, clothed head to toe in the latex of their silent authority.
"You heard her forfeit," Elise said, her voice velvet-laced steel. "But I want it exact. No approximations."
The taller of the two gave a slight nod.
"Reverse prayer. Elbows touching. Palms flat together. Full hogtie, and I mean full. Sink her heels into her ass cheeks, ankles tight. I want to see tension, not slack."
She stepped slowly into the suit, guided by expert hands. First the legs - each inch of her calves and thighs consumed by the clinging latex. The material was dense and unyielding. The toe socks forced each digit apart, confining them in strict order. Then came the gloves, one finger at a time, sealing her hands away. The attendants pulled the suit taut over her torso, smoothing the material with gloved hands. The back zipped closed.
When the hood was brought forward, Claudia instinctively flinched. The latex slid down over her crown, enveloping her scalp, her jaw, her brow, sealing her completely. She moaned quietly as the rubber tightened around her cheeks, compressing her expression into something featureless. The mask settled into place as its zipper was closed. The zippers of her hood and catsuit were joint by a padlocked. Unnecessary in her bondage, but it added to the display. She squirmed slightly. The sensation was intimate. Disorienting.
Elise leaned in again. "Gorgeous," she said, eyes shining. "Let the silence settle in. No one will hear you. No one will see you. Just the rubber and the rhythm of your own breath. That’s all you are tonight. Sink her heels, make sure they touch her ass."
The attendants moved behind Claudia and began to position her arms, carefully guiding them into the reverse prayer. The strain was immediate - shoulders twisting, muscles stretching unnaturally. Straps fastened tight, unyielding. Claudia’s breathing changed slightly. Her chest trembled. Then the final motion: her legs bent backward, one at a time, as the attendants guided her heels toward her rear. She groaned again when the hogtie strap was drawn - firm and slow - until her heels pressed firmly into her ass cheeks, the rubber squeaking faintly as the tension increased. The position was brutal, rigid, and absolute.
"She’s learning," Elise said aloud, voice sharp with triumph. "Learning what it means to be seen and not heard. What it means to embrace silence, to embrace the rules of the game. My rule. My rubberization rules, under which you are now. And you - well, you’re practically made for them."
Elise put her hand on Claudia’s rubber-clad feet. Feeling the soft, smooth, and warm material. She pushed down on the foot, sinking it another inch into her cheeks. The waitress groaned under the tension in her tendons and in the ropes. The feeling of a rubber submission under her hands. She thought back. To Samira. A decade ago, she was still in her first semesters, tutoring her. She found her ways around to exercise control, and controlled she was. In rubber. She was her first.
Claudia struggled briefly, her bound body writhing within the strict confines of her latex prison. But it was futile. Every breath was now measured, monitored. Every movement countered by pressure and restraint.
Elise turned to the Evelyn again, her eyes glinting with a particular malice reserved only for those she considered bold enough to defy her. "No hogtie is complete without a gag," she said smoothly, savoring the moment. "She wanted to play brave. Let’s give her something intimate to breathe in. Something she knows well." Evelyn smiled and nodded. She stepped to the side, her heel tapping with soft menace. She gave a gesture to one of the attendants, "One of her shoes. The black suede heels. The left one. I saw her wear them for more than one visit to Abyss. Perfect."
Claudia’s eyes widened behind the hood as one attendant quietly retrieved the heel from her discarded outfit. Elise cradled the shoe like an offering, tilting it upward and inhaling with exaggerated theatrics. "Mm. Worn. Humid. Smelly. Real." She turned it toward Claudia. "Let this be the scent of your insolence." Then she guided the insole, darkened with use, the imprint of her sole clearly outlined on the leather, to Claudia’s hooded face, placing it directly over her nose and mouth. An attendant produced black latex straps, securing the shoe to her face, forcing her to inhale its humid interior with each filtered breath. It was a gag of shame as much as shame - personal, degrading, inescapable.
To Claudia, the moment the damp insole pressed against her lips and nose was more than humiliating - it was intimate, invasive, and deeply psychological. She had worn those heels for hours on end, barely thinking about their growing warmth, their scent, their gathering tension. Now that essence was being used against her. The slightly sour musk of worn leather, the faded notes of body heat, mingled with her filtered breath. Each inhale pulled her deeper into Elise’s cruelty. Her jaw ached beneath the press of the shoe, and the straps bit into her cheeks with every subtle movement. It wasn’t just discomfort. It was a branding. A reminder that Elise hadn’t merely defeated her - she had personalized her punishment.
Elise stepped back to admire the tableau again, this time more satisfied. "Yes. Now you’re complete," she murmured. "You wanted to run your mouth in public. Now you’ll breathe in your own arrogance all night. And if you forget why you’re here, just… inhale." Her smirk deepened. "You’ll remember."
Elise turned to Evelyn, her posture regal. "Will you see that she remains displayed until dawn?"
Evelyn nodded once, approvingly. "Of course. The club will appreciate the visual. She’ll be out on stage to be admired in her predicament. A night in bondage purgatory."
Elise stepped back, hands on her hips, surveying the bound woman like a sculptor admiring her own work. Evelyn stood and gestured subtly to the attendants. They lifted Claudia’s bound form with care, placing her gently onto a black pedestal cushion. Her position was perfect. A piece of living art. She was carried outside, onto the center stage. Patrons would dance and glance. Some would pause. Some would whisper. Some would admire. But no one would interrupt.
A single spotlight followed her as she was positioned on a low pedestal at center stage. Her body, encased head to toe in unyielding black rubber, gleamed under the lights. The reverse prayer was brutal - shoulders pulled unnaturally back, elbows pressed flush together, forearms vertical, wrists bound so tight the rubber squeaked faintly with every minor involuntary shift. Her legs were tucked in close, heels flattened against her rear, held in place by an arched tension rope that made her entire lower half tremble in its restraint. The shoe strapped to her face was unmistakable - even from a distance, the familiar curve of a black suede pump pressed to her hooded mouth like a mocking kiss.
Mina gave a sharp exhale through her nose, her eyes narrowed behind her visor. "Fuck. I’ve never worn suits like that. That tie is obscene. Her shoulders will cramp in half an hour. Her hands will go numb by midnight. And by the time the sun rises? She’s not going to know where her body ends and the rubber begins."
Lena nodded grimly, her gaze focused, studying the shoe gag with a kind of clinical curiosity. "You can tell it’s hers. Elise didn’t even go for something symbolic. She went for something personal. That’s not just degradation - that’s psychology. Claudia’s breathing in her own foot sweat. Every breath, every twitch - it’s a reminder she doesn’t belong to herself tonight."
"God," Mina murmured, leaning forward as if to see more clearly. "I still say the Needle Frame is worse. I mean, sure, the frame hurts - on a whole other level. But this? This is slow. It sinks in. You start by counting seconds."
"She’ll be silent the whole time," Lena added. "No begging. No screams. Just a silent, anonymous figure writhing under the lights while the club drinks and dances around her."
They both sat in silence for a few beats, watching Claudia’s chest expand and contract beneath the rubber, her breath rising against the sole of her gagged mouth.
"Elise doesn’t need to break her," Mina said quietly. "She just needs her to remember."
Tomorrow, Elise’s victory would be complete. The client would call. Her name would rise again in the corridors of power.
"Enjoying your moment?" Evelyn asked, voice as quiet as a needle slipping beneath silk.
Elise smiled and turned toward her. "She tried to humiliate me, Evelyn. On stage. In front of them."
"And now she will spend the night tasting latex and regret."
"Precisely."
Evelyn turned slightly, watching the crowd ebb and shift. "You were excellent. Precise. Cold. The client will be pleased."
"He will be lucky to have me."
Evelyn's mouth twitched. "Do not underestimate how lucky you are to be seen by him."
Elise nodded once, curtly. "I won’t."
That night, Elise took a rare drink alone at one of the upper-tier lounges. From her vantage, she could see the ripples her performance had created. Patrons whispered about her poise, her precision, her cruelty. Good.
She craved attention, validation even more. She demanded position. And tonight, she had claimed it. Tomorrow, the client would call. Abyss had given her what she asked for. Prestige, respect, the power to rubberize those beneath her. She adored this power of the material. Neither leather nor plastic could offer the same enclosure. She shivered in delight.
But as she sipped her iced water and watched the dancers below, a flicker of something stirred inside. Not guilt. Elise didn’t suffer that. Not for them. Only for her, more than a decade ago, and ever since. A guilt that never left. But an echo. A whisper. Of how close she’d come to being the one bent and bare before the crowd.
She banished it. She’d won. Like always, when it counted. That was what mattered.
Across the room, beneath layers of rubber and darkness, Claudia lay bound and breathless.
Elise smiled.
She would sleep well tonight. Unlike Claudia.