by H. A. Kotys
A satisfied nod and another smile were Katarina’s reward and she watched motionless as the slave-girl Mela left the room. Alone with her thoughts, she could only wonder, ‘what next?’ She'd watched, waited for the slightest chance of escape but all this was too well planned. Without thinking, Katarina sucked, feeling the simulated veins against her tongue. As the despair played across her eyes, a tiny camera mounted in the corner of the room zoomed in to pick out her dejection.
A second item was wheeled into the room and placed before Katarina. The shape was vague but tall, veiled as it was by a purple cloth. Nudged to the left and then right, then left again, the girl positioned it carefully before leaving it for a moment, returning bundle in hand.
The girl scurried off yet again but in a heartbeat was back, this time standing at eye level thanks to a stool. The smile she held would melt any heart as her delicate features crinkled and her button nose wrinkled in a playful crease. It was hard to believe that within her she held such wickedness. Katarina couldn’t know what drove the girl, nor that she was only driven by a loving desire to please the Mistress who commanded her, a need that only Mela could truly understand.
A frown played on Katarina’s brow, trying to anticipate what came next. She watched as a tube and bottle were brought to the front of her gag. Unable to move, she could do nothing as it was attached to a small hidden valve that led to the cock trapped deep in her mouth.
'SUCK – ENERGY DRINK’, a new sign said. A sweet taste started to creep across Katarina’s tongue in stark contrast to bitter salinity. A gentle pat on the butt told her she had done well and the girl climbed down, laying the bottle aside, the bladder full again.
With her head now cocked to the side, the girl looked more like a playful kitten than a jailer but jailer she was. Her next act though betrayed the woman that lay beneath as she stroked a finger softly down Katarina's cheek, stopping at the leather of her gag and then tracing the edge around her distorted face.
The girl leant her head to each corresponding side to echo her exploration, fingers venturing left, head tilting to follow, fingers flowing right, head edging that way instead. It was the first tenderness Katarina had felt since the hotel room. Their eyes met and lingered. Katarina felt an unexpected connection to this girl, the same girl that was causing her such discomfort.
But why? Was she looking into her own future? Was she to be a slave as this young woman clearly was? Katarina already thought she had the answer but she didn’t want to know it. Only the gentle kiss on her nose broke into her thoughts, further surprising her with the softness it conveyed.
There was compassion in the girl’s eyes - a feeling of remorse maybe for the discomfort that she was compelled to cause? They connected, shared something. It was something intangible at first but after that brief look, Katarina felt how much she had missed the depth of connection to another human being since the loss of her parents. Katarina knew she must know more of this cute little devil, her jailer.
Their eyes locked again. A brief pause then the girl pressed her lips to Katarina's gag. With unexpected pressure, the kiss forced the thick latex cock deeper into her mouth. The girl’s eyes closed and Katarina’s lashes fluttered as a mirror. They shared a moment and that moment touched Katarina deeply.
Compassion shone in the midst of her captivity. The girl had humiliated her, driven her to new depths of despair and yet that compassion confused and caressed Katarina’s soul in a new way. As the girl finally broke her kiss, Katarina could hear the drumbeat of her own heart loud against her otherwise still muted world.
The opportunity came again to look deep into her captor's eyes and Katarina was not going to miss it. That cute smile. That delicate bone structure. That devil that played in her eyes. Only when her vision was obscured by the rough addition of a hood did she return to her frightening reality.
Small hands stretched latex over Katarina's gag and tugged it into place under her chin. Carefully the girl smoothed it over Katarina's ears, pinching it to snap back and mould to every contour of her face. A tug here and a tuck there and Katarina could feel the edges of the hood being drawn together behind her head.
The care of the girl to smooth away Katarina's hair came as no surprise. She knew now that the girl was attentive and strangely caring. There was more to her than just the action. With the back of Katarina's hood now fully closed, the gag pressed still tighter into her mouth, compressing her entire head in a tight latex prison. Katarina’s occlusion was now total.
CHAPTER IX - Her Revelation
Head to toe in latex, held fast and unable to move, Katarina was an integral part of the frame on which she stood.
As the hood settled, Katarina took a breath through holes aligned with her nostrils. Two pinpricks of light appeared before Katarina's eyes and she realised she was at least permitted a modicum of vision. She tried to look to her left, to her right, but the pinpricks encouraged her only to look directly ahead and, as her last remaining contact with the outside world, she did so, straining to see anything within her minute field of view.
The girl who had seconds before seemed to offer a lifeline was now stretching up, fussing with something. Pulling side to side, pushing a hand down on top before tugging once again, she was seemingly satisfied. Another layer had been added to squeeze Katarina’s scalp.
The girl stepped back and her face settled deliberately into the limited vision Katarina was allowed. That cute and now familiarly quirky smile eased across her elfin features as Mela looked up and down as if sizing her prey up for something as yet unclear. A decisive nod confirmed her approval and sealed it with a kiss to Katarina's covered nose.
As that smiling face moved away, the lights dimming coincided with the pads beneath her catsuit humming into life. The room lost its surgical brilliance, replaced by the dazzle of a single spotlight above her which picked out the object draped in purple. Was this it? Was this the culmination of all she had endured? The grand finale? The questions swirled in Katarina’s head but with a swift tug and a flourish, the girl revealed the answer.
The image before her wrenched away what little breath Katarina had. Already shallowed by the remorseless embrace of the corset locked onto her, she froze at the image staring back at her, unable to even summon the control to breathe. Ungagged, smiling, delight seemingly playing in its eyes, the image both shocked and confused her.
She could feel the fat latex cock filling her mouth, trapping her tongue as it grazed the back of her throat. She could feel the crush of the leather cover trapping her lips against her teeth and yet the image in the mirror told a different story.
Katarina's head struggled with the mismatched image, not helped by the reducing clarity of her thoughts. The sedative lacing the energy drink within her gag increasingly dulled them and started to creep a shroud across her consciousness.
Through the pinprick eye holes Katarina could see it was indeed her reflection. The image's chest heaved in unison with her own. The hair though was not quite right, the face similarly so but it was all becoming difficult to place now, difficult to work out.
The haze descending on her mind parted momentarily. Katarina fought to find sense in it all. That fight allowed the realisation that her own hair had long been tucked under the hood and that the additional pressure on her scalp then had to be a wig. It was good, very good and was close to her own hair but not matched exactly. But why? That was the difficult part. Her head was starting to feel heavy, the muscles in her neck relaxing and but for the posture collar, her head would have lolled forward.
It was hard to stay awake, to work out what this all meant. A slow realisation unfolded. As it did, she plumbed further new depths of despair. The body in the mirror was hers, that was plain and the hair, well, close enough so only she could tell the difference.
A final recognition crept across her. The face that looked back at her was a copy of her own, a representation of her but in cold, unyielding latex. She was masked to be herself. She was a depiction, a smiling, happy
caricature of herself. Tears openly flowed down the face of the inner Katarina, trickling down between the leather pad of her gag and the outward face, the joyous avatar of the despairing beauty concealed beneath.
She was herself, or at least like herself. As the girl started to wheel her toward the door, the mercury within the benwa balls awoke afresh. The strain of the day won the battle and the sedative engulfed the remainder of her reason in a final drowning of her consciousness, turning Katarina’s world to black.
CHAPTER X - A Democratic Choice
The throbbing of passing traffic. The scream of a child. The laughter of a gaggle of teens. All permeated Katarina’s fitful sleep, embellishing her dreams of control, domination, incarceration and downfall. She dreamt she had been taken during her shoot, bound inescapably, abducted and toyed with. Part nightmare, part fantasy, Katarina wasn't entirely sure which as her mind started to reconnect to reality and awaken.
A wake up routine, Katarina first tried to stretch her arms, only to get no response. She flexed her neck to find it held rigid, pointed her toes but they were already en pointe. It registered only as a fuzzy ‘not right’.
The deep male voice boomed in her ear, snapping her immediately into full but confused consciousness. “Awaken slave.” Katarina’s eyes shot wide. Those dreams, those nightmares, all actually replayed memories and as her body woke and demanded increased oxygen, the embrace of the corset still demanded a focussed effort to breath.
It was the bizarre vision through the pinholes in her mask that truly shocked her though. She could see outside. A busy street scene played out before her. Children strained at the hands of parents. People bustled by, huddled against what must be an autumnal cold. All so normal, except for the occasional passer-by who stole a furtive glance in her direction.
They could see her and the thought made her flush red beneath the smiling representation that was the mask. She knew what she must appear like in this main street shop window. Katarina was a mannequin of herself, held fast for display to the world.
Normality had long gone but one thing still struck her as unexpected. She had been given back her hearing but why? That was soon answered as Katarina bathed in the luxury of the sounds of the street. A middle aged mother hurried past, dragging her family in tow as she chastised her kowtowed husband for 'ogling the window full of whores'.
At the very bottom of her tiny field of vision Katarina could see her own image on a screen. It had clearly been carefully placed so only she could see it, attached as it was to the back of one of the mannequins. It explained the reaction of the mother.
Under normal circumstances, Katarina would have glanced with contempt at the woman’s blandness, her lack of any real effort. Now though the woman represented normal and normal was Katarina’s need.
She’d wanted to be different, wanted to stand out. That had led her here. She would’ve laughed at the bizarre irony of that thought if it didn’t make her cry. Restrained as she was, she envied the insipid housewife, envied her freedom, envied the control she displayed. Katarina had none. That control had been peeled away, layer by layer, until she was where she was now, nothing more than an object of disgust to berate.
Displayed on screen, other mannequins surrounded her, each posed to perfectly play their part. Some were tied into bizarre bondage contraptions, others were posed as dominants, each waxworks, each unique. A blonde-haired mannequin was strapped to an X-Frame, a redhead standing over her commanding attention. A demure girl knelt at her feet.
Preeminent, a single mannequin stood aloof and authoritative, crop in hand. She was Mistress of them all, surveying the scene, a striking representation of Mistress Raven. Central to the entire scene stood Katarina, a living mannequin trapped beneath a confining latex façade. An anguished young woman hidden beneath her own smiling facsimile.
‘Sub Zero but White Hot’, the sign at Katarina’s feet declared. She had agreed that a little light suggestive bondage might propel her career forward. It would have grabbed that headline but that was back when she had a choice. Now she had none. The headline both mocked and described her, hammering home her new position.
As a pock-marked teen stared hungrily at her, another tear squeezed out behind her smiling mask. The teen’s eyes fixated on Katarina as if boring into her as his girlfriend joined him and snaked an arm around his waist. “She's hot,” she toned, displaying a wayward education while a wink held unspoken promises to her boyfriend. Reaching out toward the side of the window display, she punched an unseen button. Katarina's eyes widened to a torrent of pain which exploded in her crotch.
“Cool animatronics.” The geeky teen gleefully watched the mannequin that was Katarina spasm within the restraints. Katarina panted, desperate to suck down air, trying to cope. Text started to scroll on the screen.
'The remote control you saw earlier is fixed to the wall.' The words slid upwards like a teleprompter. ‘As I am both a Lady and a believer in democracy, you will be judged by popular vote.' Katarina's eyes widened still further, continuing to read. 'That experience was the red button, the one saying ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’. Congratulations, you just received the first vote in agreement.'
Focussed on the screen, more text edged up. 'If that option has the highest vote, you go free. We support your career. You’ll be famous.’ The thought was left to resonate with a lengthened pause.
‘Of course, if that vote doesn’t win …'
The words stilled. Katarina peered at the screen. Was that it? What would happen then? Her natural optimism raised its head, her spirits starting to revive. Was this then a ploy to get her the coverage she needed?
Katarina willed each passer-by to look. She willed them to cast the vote that would reopen her future. The dowdy woman was back, dragging her family past the window again but this time she paused. Stepping closer, the woman pushed a green button with a sneer. Vibrations shot into Katarina's crotch, causing her to jerk in her bonds.
Oh God no, they couldn't, could they? Katarina forced her eyes open to read more text that was appearing on the screen. 'The green button says ‘Pretty Whore and No More’.’ Katarina started to whimper as the text progressed. 'A majority of greens, you continue a slave. If voted a whore, there will of course be punishments.’
She had no way to win. She craved the career dependent on the red button yet feared frying from the shocks. Green equalled pleasure but would see her labelled as a whore and punished. It was a kind of Pavlovian theory and it tore her in two.
A metallic voice accompanied each vote, reading out the label, drilling each opinion into her head. ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’ engulfed her loins in pain. ‘Pretty Whore and No More’ buzzed a sweet pleasure, but never quite enough.
Seconds melted into minutes, minutes into hours. The constant conditioning from each vote gradually ground down her resistance. As the day crept forward, Katarina found herself increasingly craving more votes for green. She slowly began to resent the intermittent votes for ‘Beautiful Future Fetish Model’. They curtailed the vibrations, shocking her instead. By afternoon, her body was starting to clamour for climax. Promises of pleasure were consistently broken. Her independent mind slowly started to yield and absorb the lessons exactly as her Mistress had planned.
Whore? Good. Model? Bad. The lessons were simple and inescapable. Somehow they seemed to make sense now. She needed it, needed more green, needed to be thought a whore.
CHAPTER XI - A Model Career
Slowly the number of people passing Katarina’s window dwindled as the shadows lengthened in the October sun's waning light. Pleasure and pain had assaulted her constantly throughout the day. They had nibbled at her mind until she hoped that each voter would view her as a pretty whore.
The bands around her legs bit hard, reliant as she was on the titanium frame to hold her up to try to relieve her tortured toes. Her internal organs had settled to the corset, adjusting to the enforced repositioning. That was some crumb of comfort at least. Her arms?
Well, she just assumed she still had them.
Katarina was tired, oh so tired. Her stamina had been sucked dry. After the loss of her dear father she had worked out in a frenzy, welcoming physical pain to replace the mental. This was worse than those gym visits though, much worse.
She'd initially tried to count each vote in an attempt to ground her sanity in some vague form of reality but the constant swing from sweet pleasure to searing pain had already numbed her thoughts. Two hundred she guessed for each side. Her count was at least two hundred votes short of the real totals though.
The counter only told of the difference in the voting and it showed a close vote so far. It showed that, on balance, a majority saw a beautiful fetish model but now the thought sat uncomfortably with her. Twenty it said. Twenty more people saw a career, not a whore. Each associated explosion of pain had muddied her mind and she wanted more pleasure. More green. More whore.
A familiar face drew Katarina’s attention away from the counter. Her cute jailer had appeared in front of the window, arms folded, smiling that smile, looking proudly at the display. Eyes on the voting box she paused, looking first to Katarina then back to the box, toying with a dilemma.