Part 48
Company Woes
Emma’s workplace was abuzz with excitement as the year drew to a close. Rachel, Emma’s manager, had orchestrated a bold and unconventional plan for the company’s New Year’s celebration. She had made arrangements for the party to be hosted at Abyss, the infamous underground club that had become the focal point of office gossip ever since Emma’s supposed involvement in a duel there.
The breakroom chatter was relentless.
"Do you think she’ll do it?" Brian whispered to a group of coworkers, his voice barely containing his glee. "She’s got to, right? I mean, this is her place."
"I bet she was the blurred-face dancer in that duel," chimed in Rachel. "But would she risk it again? Especially with Celeste?"
The teasing didn’t stop there. Rachel herself had approached Emma with a sly grin. "You know, Emma, this could be an excellent opportunity for growth. Show everyone that you’re bold, fearless - the perfect candidate for that senior account manager position we’ve been discussing." She leaned in conspiratorially. "All you have to do is settle the score with Celeste and make our company shine. One duel, and the promotion is yours."
Emma’s stomach churned. The promotion was tempting, but the prospect of another public duel filled her with dread. She had barely managed to keep her identity concealed after the last one. Could she endure the spectacle again? At least they all would be together at the fetish club, the rumors and teasing would stop finally.
Unbeknownst to Emma, Rachel had taken her bold plan one step further. She had contacted Celeste’s company and proposed a joint venture for the New Year’s event, framing it as an opportunity for their employees to "explore teamwork and resilience." Celeste’s manager, eager to foster boldness and camaraderie, had agreed - and subtly hinted that Celeste would be expected to represent their team in a duel if challenged.
When Celeste received the news, she froze. The memories of her week in the Rubber Coffin came flooding back. She could still feel the oppressive heat, the slick, suffocating embrace of the rubber, and the maddening itch she couldn’t scratch. The isolation and discomfort had been etched into her mind, a constant reminder of her defeat.
"I swore I’d never go back," she thought, her hands trembling. But with her manager’s approval and the growing pressure from her coworkers, backing out wasn’t an option.
Evelyn, the ever-watchful hostess of Abyss, was delighted by the proposal. The idea of hosting a corporate New Year’s party filled with intrigue and competition was irresistible. Not having to come up with an extravagant idea for the infamous Abyss’ New Year, that would also free more time for her to focus on her practicing through the Seventh Circle of Hell in her spare time with her own pair of Stilettos of the Languished Arches. She agreed to waive the club’s usual latex -based dress codes for the guests, ensuring the event would be accessible to the employees of both companies. But Evelyn couldn’t resist adding her own twist to the stakes.
When Rachel and the other managers approached her to discuss the terms of the duel, Evelyn’s eyes gleamed with mischief. "We’ll make it a spectacle," she said. "But the stakes must match the grandeur of the event. A duel like this deserves consequences befitting its intensity."
She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The loser will spend more than a week in the Rubber Coffin, you both will need to allow that leave of absence in case your championloses. And to make things more thrilling, the event - including the duel and the aftermath - will be prominently featured on Abyss’ social media channels."
The managers considered only for the shortest time, but Evelyn’s charisma won them over. By the time the deal was struck, the stage was set for a showdown unlike any other.
On New Year’s Eve, Abyss was alive with energy. Employees from both companies filled the club, their excitement palpable as they mingled and speculated about the night’s main event. Curious and fascinated they observed the latex-clad patrons. Emma and Celeste were called to the stage, both dressed in plain black catsuits, their faces flushed with a mix of nerves and determination.
As they stepped onto the stage, both women believed the stakes were similar to their last encounter. But Evelyn’s announcement shattered that assumption. "Ladies and gentlemen," she began, her voice dripping with theatricality, "tonight, we witness a clash of resilience and resolve. Two bold women, representing their companies, will face off in a duel of endurance and grace. The stakes are high, the consequences unforgettable."
She gestured to the needle-heeled shoes waiting at the edge of the stage. "Our contestants will don these exquisite heels, the Stilettos of the Languished Arches, designed to test their balance and precision. The duel will last until one dancer sinks to her knees, and the winner will claim their victory with pride and a promotion at their job. As for the loser…" She paused, letting the tension build. "…she will spend the next month in the Rubber Coffin. And their journey will be shared online with the world."
Emma’s heart sank, her pulse pounding in her ears. A month? she thought, panic rising in her chest. She glanced at Celeste, who looked equally horrified. The memories of her previous time in the coffin flashed across her mind, but the thought of enduring it for an entire month was almost unbearable.
"You can’t be serious," Celeste whispered, her voice trembling.
Evelyn’s smile didn’t waver. "The stakes are set. By your managers no less. I merely provide… the infrastructure. Now, shall we begin?"
The music began, a pulsing, relentless beat that demanded their full attention. Both women stepped into the needle heels, the nodules pressing waiting into the soles of their bare feet with every movement. The pain was ready to happen, but neither dared falter.
Emma started strong, her movements precise and controlled. She focused on the rhythm, her determination to win - and to avoid the coffin - pushing her forward. But as the minutes ticked by, the spikes began to take their toll. Her steps grew heavier, her balance faltering. The thought of the coffin’s slick, suffocating interior loomed over her, and she clenched her teeth, willing herself to continue.
Rachel and her teamed cheered her on, yelling encouraging phrases, "We believe in you, rubber girl!"
Celeste, fueled by the memory of her previous punishment, danced with surprising grace. The pain from the heels was excruciating, but it paled in comparison to the dread she felt at the thought of returning to the coffin. Her breaths came in sharp gasps, her legs trembling as she pushed herself beyond her limits. Also, her colleagues cheered her on. They gasped in horror when Celeste began to falter, her face distorting in agony as the spikes extended more and more often.
By the ten-minute mark, Emma’s movements became erratic. The spikes pressed deeper with every misstep, and her vision blurred with tears. Celeste, though barely holding on, found a second wind, her desperation and her memories of the coffin’s inside driving her forward. When Emma stumbled at the eleven-minute mark, the crowd erupted into cheers, Celeste’s victory sealed.
Evelyn stepped forward, her smile triumphant. "And so it is decided. Celeste, you have proven your resilience. Emma…" She turned to the defeated woman, her voice softening slightly. "Prepare yourself. Your month of reflection begins now."
The attendants guided Emma off the stage and toward the basement. Her coworkers watched in stunned silence, their earlier teasing replaced by a mix of sympathy and awe. Rachel, though disappointed by the outcome, couldn’t hide her fascination. As the lid of the coffin was sealed around Emma, she turned to her employees with a wry smile.
"Well," she said, raising her glass, "whether or not Emma was the original duelist, one thing is clear: she is now, without question, the official rubber girl of the company."
The room erupted into laughter and applause, the tension easing as the party resumed. But for Emma, sealed inside the Rubber Coffin, the month ahead promised to be a test of endurance unlike anything she had faced before. As the darkness closed in, she resolved to endure, knowing she would rise again. Her vibrator kicked in.
Mid-January, a few weeks after Lena’s orgasmic discovery, she had mastered the art of finding the occasional orgasm. The trick was Mina riding with her in sync to keep the spikes hidden, but riding her end only shallowly. They were successful twice, leaving Lena deeply fulfilled. Mina had been crying in Lena’s arm after their second time.
"It is so incredible frustrating and hard to keep riding with so little penetration and mimic exactly your motions when you are orgasming."
"And I thank you for it, I couldn’t have these orgasms without you. I will take any care for you in my power, my dearest Cosmina," Lena responded.
"I’m yours, Yelena.", Mina whispered, "… Mistress," she corrected herself. "I will stay chaste for you, if you so desire. For us being together, I’m willing to forego."
They hugged and kissed and retreated back into Lena’s bedroom.