A Woman's Role

Ch.4

Part 1 - Carol’s Camshow

Samantha finally arrived home in Malibu and dumped her massive shopping bags out onto her bed. She was dog tired, but also elated. Her mind swam with dizzying possibilities as she looked at all the gear. "Oh shit," she said to herself, "I haven't checked Twitter all day. I bet my socials are going crazy after that book signing at the library."

Samantha picked up her phone, which she hadn't checked all day. Her mouth dropped. There were thousands of mentions, hundreds of likes. People were using her tape gagged picture for everything from a meme mocking feminists to a sexy avatar for some men's rights activists. The original photo had over 10,000 likes.

She felt her face flush. She hadn't even looked at the picture herself, and when she opened her Twitter, it felt surreal to see her face, tape gagged, staring back at her, like a ghost from an alternate dimension. There were tweets praising the look, and decrying it, and some men had even taken it upon themselves to comment on Samantha's physical attributes, her curves, her face. There was a video, which Samantha clicked, her eyes wide in anticipation.

"I've got Senator Blume here," said a female reporter, her hair in a bun, dressed conservatively, her face painted with makeup. She had a severe demeanor. "Senator, some have called you a traitor to the left for your newfound rightward swing. Do you have a comment on that?"

"I think it's clear to anyone who's been following politics for any length of time that the left's brand of politics doesn't have the appeal it once did," replied the Senator. "The American public has grown tired of leftist identity politics and socialist economics, and has embraced traditionalism and free market conservatism."

"But what do you say to claims that your new policies have led to an erosion of women's rights, and the rise of the silent majority movement?"

"The silent majority movement is just a response by normal people to leftist insanity," replied the Senator. "I think if some of the more outspoken leftist women would just shut their traps and let us work, maybe the movement would die down."

"So you think left-wing women should be silent?"

"I didn't say that. But if you're asking me whether I want you to be silent," he gestured at the woman with a smile, "I'm inclined to say yes."

The reporter was aghast, her eyes wide, and the video ended there.

"Wow, this has really taken off," Samantha said to herself, feeling a rush of excitement.

She sat on the bed, looking at all her new toys, and wondered if she had the energy to use any of them. A text message on her phone interrupted her thoughts. She looked at the message, which had come through a strange new messaging app that had installed itself along with the app to control the vibroshock.

It was an invitation, and it read: "Ms. Steele. You have been accepted to orientation at the Hollywood HaremCo compound. Your trainer will be Dominic Hawke. You may message with your trainer at any time before your orientation begins. Roll call for your orientation class will be held at 8:00 AM this coming Thursday. Please arrive at the lobby no later than 7:30 for initial processing. We at HaremCo are excited to instruct you!"

Samantha's heart raced as she realized the gravity of her situation. She'd be spending the week with Dominic. Learning how to behave, how to act. How to become a sub. The thought made her feel hot between the legs.

She tapped the link in the message, which brought her to another page on the app, which listed Dominic's profile and contact information. There was a phone number and an email. Her hands shaking, she copied the number and put it in a text message.

"Hi Master Dominic," she typed. "It's Ms. Steele. Thank you so much for agreeing to sponsor me. I'm very much looking forward to orientation." She hesitated before sending the message. What would Dominic say? Would he be happy to see her? She was sure he would, he had been flirting with her since the moment they met in the Dungeon. She was looking forward to spending a week with him.

Samantha's hands shook with anticipation and nervousness, and her pussy was tingling with the idea of seeing Dominic again, of feeling the weight of his strong body on hers, his hands around her wrists and his lips on her neck. Her mouth went dry at the thought of the way he'd made her feel in the dungeon. His voice was deep, his eyes piercing.

She was excited and terrified at the same time. There was no response to her message for a minute, then two, then three. Then her phone buzzed, and Samantha's heart skipped a beat as she saw that he'd responded.

"Hey there, Ms. Steele. I'm excited for your orientation. You've been quite a surprise, and it's not often a woman gets me to sponsor her. Say, when are you going to post an updated pic on Twitter? You should know by now that gag with the packing tape was amateur." Samantha's cheeks went red. She looked at the gear piled on the bed, trying to decide what to use. What would be appropriate for Twitter, something she could show the public that Master Dominic would also like?

"Can't wait for you to see it. What do you think? Maybe something from the new stash I just got," she texted him. He was probably getting ready for dinner or something. He was probably sitting down for dinner with a group of friends. He'd be thinking of her, she hoped, as he ate and drank with them, as they laughed together and talked politics and the future of their movement. She'd be in his head, and she was determined to be there, front and center.

"If you're going to do a tapegag, at least use industrial grade stuff. And fill that mouth up, tapegags are almost useless if your mouth's empty. Do something classic. Permaseals and lipstuck are great but the public isn't aware of them just yet."

She was blushing, but the idea was exciting to her, and her hands were shaking with anticipation. She could feel her heart racing as she picked up a squishy, soft rubber ball from her gift bag. It seemed to be stuffed with some sort of gel, and it squished between her teeth as she slid it in her mouth. She pulled out a bright pink tube of lipstuck and applied it to her lips, wanting to look sexy for the photo. As she'd hoped, the glue set instantly and welded her lips to the shiny white ball between them. She ripped off a massive square of the white, porous foam tape she'd been given and smoothed it over her mouth. It contoured to her lips, and the ball between them, perfectly. Anyone could see her mouth was stuffed with a round object, but no one could say what for certain.

She took out her phone and checked how she looked in the camera. The gagged look, with the ball sticking out against her taped lips and her eyes wide with surprise and a hint of lust, was perfect. Her eyes were open, her lips were sealed and she had the perfect picture for her Twitter feed. She took a selfie and uploaded it.

She captioned it, "quiet like a pro. You girls out there need to try this microfoam tape, it's stronger and more comfy! Fellas, guess what's in my mouth. Here's a hint: it's not liberal lies!"

She hit tweet and her phone pinged immediately as it was liked, retweeted, shared and replied to. People were excited about the new tape. She smiled as best she could with the ball wedged in her mouth and her lips taped. The foam tape was so strong, and it sealed so tightly against her lips. She felt her heart racing, and her body tingling. This felt good.

Samantha pulled off her pants and her blouse, then took off her underwear. Her heart fluttered as she withdrew the fleshtone latex gloves and stockings from her bag. They felt like second skins and made her feel so soft and feminine.

Samantha slipped into the stockings and pulled the latex gloves onto her hands, then slipped on a pair of black high heels. The latex was smooth against her skin, and she felt her nipples harden as she ran her gloved fingers over her chest and stomach. It was a strange sensation, but one she enjoyed immensely. It was a new, strange, but intoxicatingly arousing feeling.

Samantha's heart beat faster she grabbed the vibroshock egg and stuffed it into her pussy. She looked at the buttplug apprehensively, deciding she wasn't quite ready for that. She slipped her black latex panties on, over the egg, and felt it secured snugly within the latex hugging her pussy. She secured the straps of her black latex bra, and admired herself in her full-length mirror.

Samantha looked hot in her latex ensemble, and felt hot to boot. The latex was warm against her skin and felt like a soft hug. She ran her hands over her body, admiring how it clung to her curves. She picked up the phone and took a picture. She sent it to Dominic, along with the message: "How do you like me in these?"

Samantha felt a rush of excitement as she waited for Dominic's response. "Wow, those are stunning! You look fantastic. I'm impressed by your initiative. Can't wait to have you under my wing next week," he responded.

Samantha smiled at the compliment, and at the thought of spending a week with him, under his tutelage. He'd show her the ropes and help her become a proper submissive. She had an idea, and took a short video of herself removing the microfoam tape from her mouth, then struggling to spit out the rubber ball. Her pink, glued lips contorted and squished the ball between them, but the glue held fast. She gave a cute shrug, and a meek "mmph!"

She sent the video to Dominic, writing "I used lipglue to secure the ball before I taped my mouth. I thought that was clever." Her heart raced as she waited for his response, wondering if she was pushing things too far, and if she should be worried that he wasn't replying immediately.

She opened the app again, and saw that her trainer was typing a response. She was filled with excitement. "Clever," came the reply. Her heart sank. He didn't seem interested. A tear crept to her eye, and a low moan, "mmmph..." leaked through the rubber ball glued in her mouth. Was she really not his type? She felt so humiliated and embarrassed, like she was a little girl trying too hard. She had put herself out there and he wasn't even responding to her.

Samantha's heart ached, and she felt so humiliated. She was embarrassed. She was so stupid to think she could seduce him. She lay down in her bed, the rubber ball still lodged between her glued lips, her eyes closed, and her chest heaving as she tried to calm her nerves, to calm her heart. She looked at her phone again, hoping that he would say something, anything.

Nothing.

She was about to close the app and throw the phone aside in frustration when she saw that he was typing a reply. She felt her heart race as she waited for him to respond. She was disappointed, however. "Goodnight," he typed.

She sighed, and typed, "Night."

Samantha rolled onto her side and stared at her ceiling. She felt so humiliated, so embarrassed. She wished he had said something more, something to give her hope. Samantha sniffled and gently touched the latex covering her pussy. She'd almost forgotten the vibroshock egg inside of her. She looked at her phone, seeing that Dominic had gone silent, and opened her app, sliding the vibration to a slow, steady pulse. She moaned into the gag as she felt the vibration, her heart racing as she began to feel her body responding.

Samantha thought of Dominic as she worked herself over, and imagined him taking her in her room, on her bed, making her his. She imagined him forcing her to her knees and fucking her from behind. She imagined his hands holding her hips as she struggled to maintain her composure, to stay quiet, to not moan in pleasure as she submitted to him. She was imagining herself being forced to please him, and she liked it.

She reached for her phone, turning the vibroshock up higher, feeling the vibration intensify. She bit down hard on the ball between her lips, her tongue working at the rubber as the vibration continued to tease her pussy, her mind filled with the fantasy of being taken by him, of being forced to submit, of being made his.

Samantha remembered her visions from the sensory deprivation treatment. The vibe still pulsing, still moaning softly as she went, she retrieved two permaseal plasters from her bag, removed the backing, and placed them over her eyes.

The darkness was total, and Samantha was once again immersed in a vision. This time, she was a doll. A latex doll, a rubber doll, a toy. Her skin was shiny, her lips were sealed. She was a rubber doll, an obedient plaything.

In her vision she was on the floor of the HaremCo lobby, on her hands and knees. She looked like a rubber statue. Her mouth was sealed and she could not move, but she could feel. She was aware of everything around her. She could feel the vibrations of footsteps as men passed her by. She felt their hands as they caressed her, touched her. She could hear them talk about her. They spoke about her as a piece of furniture, a decoration. A doll.

She was not a person, she was an object. A toy, a rubber plaything, a sex doll. A fetish object. And in the vision she liked it, she loved it, she wanted it. She wanted to be used, to be abused, to be treated like an object, to be made to feel good, to be made to please. To be a toy. To be a doll.

She felt a warm, tingling sensation spread through her body. The vibrator was still pulsing inside her, still making her feel so good. The thought of being made into an object, of being made into a doll, was making her so wet.

She knelt silently at the feet of a man in a suit. He had a booming voice, and he commanded everyone's attention. He was giving a great speech, and people cheered. She looked up at him adoringly, the words "I love you" and "I'm yours" and "marry me" trapped behind mute lips and the taste of a rubber gag on her tongue. But the thoughts remained. She loved him. She worshipped him. He owned her, and she was his, and she loved him.

Samantha had to stop. This was a bad idea. She should take off the permaseals. She should remove the vibroshock. She should take it easy. But she couldn't, because the vibrator was still buzzing in her pussy and she was beginning to breathe hard. She reached between her legs and began to rub herself, to feel herself. She wanted to feel his hands, his mouth, his body, to be filled by his cock, to feel him fuck her. To feel him own her, to be his, to be his to do what he wished with.

She reached between her legs, feeling herself, feeling her pussy, feeling the vibrator inside of her. It was still buzzing, and her legs shook. She felt herself getting closer to a deep, pulsating orgasm.

She felt herself getting close, her legs shaking, her pussy wet and her juices dripping onto the sheets. She felt her fingers slide across the latex covering her clit, and all of a sudden, every muscle in her body contracted, and held in place. This was going to be an explosive orgasm. She held her breath.

She came hard, the world around her spinning as she bucked and moaned and screamed into the gag, into the darkness. She couldn't see anything. She felt everything. The vibrator was still pulsing in her, and her whole body was on fire with the sensations, the pleasure. She was cumming over and over again.

The vibe wouldn't stop. Her body wouldn't stop. Her legs shook uncontrollably. Her hands gripped the sheets, and her back arched, and she couldn't breathe. Her body was on fire, her pussy was throbbing, her legs were shaking.

Samantha's heart raced and she tried to scream. She could hear herself making muffled noises into the ball gag and her mind swirled. She felt a warm, wet feeling on her legs. Her eyes widened in shock and shame. She'd squirted so hard it was gushing from beneath her panties.

She was on fire. Her body was on fire. The vibrator was still going. Her body was still convulsing, and her mind was still spinning, and she was still blind and mute, and she couldn't stop.

Samantha was so sensitive, and the vibe wouldn't stop. She was in ecstasy, in bliss. It felt like hours, days, years. It felt like she was in heaven.

Her orgasm subsided, and she collapsed, exhausted. She lay on her back in bed, breathing heavily. She reached to her eyes, fumbling at the edges of the permaseal, and cried "mmph! Mm-mm, mm-mmmh!" She remembered: permaseals needed special solvent. It was in the gift bag.

Samantha reached blindly for her night stand. Her hand touched something smooth and soft. It was her panties. She had taken them off to get ready for bed. Her fingers found the phone. She couldn't see the screen. The vibe was still going. She whimpered pathetically as she scrambled for her giftbag. Where was the solvent? Her fingers finally felt the small, glass tubes, and she pulled them out.

Samantha was still breathing hard, still sensitive, still feeling the vibration of the vibe inside her. Her hands shook. The tubes slipped out of her hand and fell to the ground, and she squealed into her gag in frustration. Samantha cursed silently as she searched frantically, reaching under the bed. Her hands searched for a long moment, until finally she felt something. A tiny, glass tube.

Samantha's heart was pounding in her ears as she tried to get the tube open, to apply the solvent. She could barely hear anything but the throb of her heartbeat.

The solvent was cold on her fingertips, and she rubbed it into her closed eyelids. She felt the adhesive release the permaseals. Slowly, her eyes fluttered open, the light from her bedroom lamp flooding into her sight. She blinked, and her eyes adjusted. She could see again. Her eyes went to her phone. She could see it was turned on, that the vibrator was going. Her hand was shaking, but she was able to press the right button, to shut it down. Her body, which had been trembling with pleasure and pain, finally relaxed, and she sighed into the gag in relief.

Samantha's body was aching from the experience. It had been intense, and she had never been in such a situation before. Her heart was racing. Her mind was a blur. She was sweating, panting.

But it had been fun.

---

The next day, Samantha's alarm rang, waking her from a dreamless sleep. She sat up in bed, her eyes bleary and unfocused, and saw the sun was rising. She yawned and stretched, her mind slowly coming awake. She felt the softness of the mattress, the warmth of the blankets, the cool air on her skin, and the tightness of her body as it came to wakefulness.

Samantha's thoughts drifted back to the previous night. She had had a wonderful, erotic time, but her dreams had been strange, confusing, and she had woken in a cold sweat.

The dreams were of her in a rubber catsuit, on the floor of a dark room. There were other women in the room with her, all in rubber, all on the floor. They were crawling around, and they were silent. She couldn't hear them speak, or even breathe. She could hear their bodies move, and she could feel their bodies, their warmth, their softness, but they were silent. She could smell the scent of latex, of rubber, and it was a comforting smell.

The room was a sort of harem, where men came and picked the girl they wanted. There were men who were looking over them, and men who were inspecting them, and men who were selecting them.

And then there was her dream man, her future husband, the man who was going to pick her up from the floor and carry her off to his bed, and she was going to please him. He would own her, and he would treat her like a princess, and she would love him forever. She would be his, and she would be his alone, and he would love her, and she would be happy. And that would be that. It was simple and uncomplicated. It was a perfect relationship.

She made herself some coffee, trying to wake up from her drowsiness and chase away the intrusive thoughts. She had a long day ahead of her, and she wanted to be at the top of her game.

Samantha checked her Twitter feed. There had been a flurry of activity while she had slept, and her tweet with the gag had over 10,000 likes and nearly 100 replies. She was shocked and impressed by how quickly her message had spread. It was amazing what a little bit of social media could do. She scrolled through her Twitter feed and was amazed by what she was seeing. She saw people posting pictures of themselves in tape, and in ballgags, and she even saw one girl in a full-on hood, completely silenced.

She had become a sensation overnight. The messages on her Twitter were almost overwhelming. So many leftists and feminists called her a whore, or a traitor, or a desperate has-been trying to use sex to get back in the limelight.

"When she starts an onlyfans, remember that I said it here first. This isn't serious discourse, it's just obvious kink. What a slut."

Someone replied, "when she starts an onlyfans, send me the link! You're just jealous that she gets attention from real men."

There were others that praised her for her boldness. She had become a role model for other girls to follow.

"OMG! So hot! Do you do bondage or is it just a fashion statement?"

"Have you tried lipstuck? I heard about it on Twitter and it seems so hot. You have to let us know!"

Lily had even responded, posting a picture of her with her mouth stuffed comically full. It looked like a sock, and a large one at that. The next picture showed her mouth slathered in stretchy pink athletic tape, the outline of her gaping lips visible through the fabric.

"Good call, Ms. Steele! This elastic sports tape is Master's favorite when he wants me to 'stick a sock in it', teehee! Much better than duct tape."

The messages of encouragement were heartening to her, and she felt like she was doing something worthwhile, something that could help other people, and not just herself. That made her happy. That was all she ever really wanted.

But it also worried her, that her newfound notoriety could end up being a detriment, not a benefit, in the long run. She didn't want to be a flash in the pan, she wanted to make a difference. And she wasn't sure how she could do that if she was seen as a joke.

Plus a full half of the responses were sexual, asking her to post more explicit content, to start an onlyfans, or to message would-be-dominants and become their slave.

"I'd love to tie you up, gag you, and lock you in my basement for a week. Then I'd have you suck me off while you beg for release, and maybe if you were a good girl I'd give it to you, but you'd probably end up begging for more, wouldn't you?"

Samantha felt her face flush, her heart race, her pussy tingle. It was disgusting, and obviously she wasn't going to reply to every internet creep who messaged her. She'd always experienced sexual harassment anyway, especially when she was younger. But she couldn't help but relish the attention.

For a hot moment, she wondered how much money she'd make if she did create an OnlyFans. She'd get thousands of subscribers overnight, that was for sure.

Then she remembered the HaremFans site she'd heard about at the HaremCo facility. She knew Dominic had a roster of girls on the site, and that Carol was one of them, but she hadn't actually seen the kind of thing they got up to.

Curious, and more than a little nervous, Samantha typed the URL into her web browser, and the site popped up. It was a well designed, elegant site that was clearly made to look slick, expensive, and very exclusive. It reminded Samantha of a private gentleman's club from the early 1900's. She entered her email and set up a profile. There was a one week free trial, and she'd be able to cancel any time.

Her phone rang, and she picked it up.

"Hey, this is Samantha." She was a bit surprised by the caller ID, which had identified the caller as "HaremFans." Was it some kind of automated verification process?

"Hello, Ms. Steele," a man's voice replied. It was a deep voice, and he spoke with a confident tone. "My name is Mr. Johnson, and I'm a manager at HaremFans. I noticed that you're taking us for a spin, and I wanted to reach out personally to thank you."

"Uh, sure," Samantha said, a bit taken aback by the personal touch, and a bit embarrassed to be caught browsing such an illicit website. "What, uh, is it that you do at HaremFans?" she asked, trying to make conversation and to avoid the embarrassment she felt.

"I'm a trainer," the man replied. "I help our girls become what our members expect of them."

"I'm not really sure I understand," Samantha said. "I mean, what exactly is the purpose of your website?"

"It's a subscription service, like OnlyFans, of course," explained Mr. Johnson, "members can subscribe to follow the training of new subs at our HaremCo facility. We post frequent updates on the course of their training, and we encourage our girls to post on their own as well. Sometimes girls post themselves in the gear and situations they like, in the hopes of attracting a Master who will treat them the way they want. Sometimes, they're just desperate to be bought, and post whatever they think a prospective Master is looking for. In addition, we offer streaming cam sessions where members can tip to have a trainer, or another harem girl, restrain, pleasure, or torment their favorite models. We regularly assign cam sessions to girls in our care to gain exposure for them and to acclimate them to being dominated."

"Oh," Samantha said. "That sounds interesting," she admitted.

"Yes, I agree. We've found that it's quite lucrative as well, and has helped to make HaremCo the company that it is today. We're always on the lookout for new girls, of course. If you're interested, I can give you 1000 HC credits and you can subscribe to a few girls, or look in on a cam session and tip for what you want. Of course, you're already under Master Dominic's harem, so you can also post on your own profile if you like."

Her heart skipped a beat. She was already registered under Dominic? She hadn't known she'd be automatically signed up for a HaremFans profile. It seemed like the people commenting on her Twitter, saying she'd be on OnlyFans soon enough, were only half wrong.

"You can keep your identity anonymous, of course. Just post under an alias. Right now your username is set to SammyServes, but you can change it further if you worry people will find out it's you."

She felt her pussy get a little wet at the idea, and her cheeks flush with embarrassment. What if people did see her on HaremFans, posting about her bondage adventures, begging to be bought?

It would be a scandal. A total scandal. The kind that could destroy a career, that could make you an outcast. The kind of scandal that had ruined so many young women before her. It could be a terrible mistake.

On the other hand, she could really capitalize on her silent majority trend, and become a star. She'd be in a position to show that she was serious about this stuff, that she was willing to go all the way. It would build her credibility, and she could taunt leftists and feminists by daring them to try the experience for themselves.

She could really do some damage to her enemies, she thought.

"So, you'll take the credit? It's 1000 HC. Enough to get started, to see how things work," Mr. Johnson urged her, sensing her reluctance.

"Ok, fine," Samantha finally decided, "I'll do it." Her pussy was getting hot at the idea, and her brain was buzzing with excitement.

"Great! Just go ahead and browse around the site and use the credits however you want. If you decide you like it and want more credits, just let us know, and we'll get you upgraded to premium access. You can always cancel, too, and any unused credits will be lost, of course, but you can keep anything you buy and view them in your library."

"Alright, thank you, I will," Samantha replied.

"And if you decide to start posting on your own profile," Mr. Johnson added, "be sure to look to your Master for guidance. I'm sure he has plans to develop you into a real prize."

"Thanks," she replied.

Mr. Johnson hung up, and she turned back to the website.

She browsed the list of available harem slaves, and found Carol's profile. She had 200 subscribers, which seemed like a lot. Carol's profile picture showed her with a ballgag strapped in her mouth, her hair pulled back in pigtails and tied with a black ribbon.

"Hi everyone!" read her profile, "my name is Carol. My Master calls me Little Girl because I'm the newest member of the harem. I'm still in the early stages of training, so subscribe and tip in my cam sessions to help me learn to be a good girl!"

The bio had a list of her favorite and least favorite toys and activities, along with links to her Master's harem and a schedule for her cam sessions.

'Favorite gag: lipstuck. Least favorite gag: garble.'

Samantha felt a pang of guilt, as she remembered that she was the one who had forced the garble gag on Carol. She was also curious.

'Favorite toy: vibroshock. Least favorite toy: buttplug.'

So Carol was using the vibroshock as well. That gave her a thrill. Maybe she'd see her sometime on cam and she could use the same setting as her, to feel a sense of shared intimacy.

'Favorite bondage: rope harness. Least favorite bondage: chastity belt.'

The list went on.

Samantha noticed Carol was currently livestreaming a cam session. On a whim, Samantha tapped 'join' on her screen, and was taken to the stream. It had already been going for an hour, and Samantha could tell immediately that this was not a girl who had enjoyed the last hour. She had tear tracks on her cheeks, her mascara running. Her hands were encased in rubber mitts, and locked to a leather restraint belt at her waist. She didn't appear to be gagged, but she moaned and mmphed quietly, obviously not inclined to speak.

The comments were flying fast and furious, mostly discussing what would happen next. "Let's put her in a hood and plug her mouth, I want her completely quiet," wrote one viewer, followed quickly by a comment reading "No way, I want her talking. Make her talk, I love how the garble makes her sound."

Samantha was shocked, and embarrassed. This poor girl was a sex toy to these people, to be used and abused. And, she thought to herself, she could easily be next. She shuddered at the thought, and felt her heart skip a beat, and felt the wetness between her legs increase. She felt so sorry for this girl, for her plight, and yet she couldn't stop thinking about how exciting, and sexy it would be to be the one on the other side of the screen.

A notification popped up: 'sluttrainer tipped 100 HC: say the pledge of allegiance."

Samantha was horrified. She knew how much Carol hated being garbled, and so did her audience, apparently. But she couldn't help herself from wanting to see this, wanting to watch. Carol was clearly a mess, sobbing, her eyes red. But she was obedient, she did what the viewers tipped for her to do. She said it. The words were slurred and garbled, her tongue struggling to move, her throat trying to make the sounds. The garbled noises came out as a string of muffled grunts, a string of unintelligible nonsense. "Ahh ppphlegg uhlleegenth, thoo vuh phaagh," came the noise, and her audience applauded, and called her a stupid whore, and told her to keep going.

And she did, for the full length of the Pledge, the words sounding more and more like animalistic grunts. It was a total mockery, and Samantha was both appalled and excited. She had never seen anything like this. It was a bizarre combination of cruelty and sex, and Samantha could hardly believe she was watching it.

The chat continued. The girl was instructed to kneel, to open her mouth, to show her tongue. To stick out her tongue as far as possible and keep it there until told otherwise.

Her latex encased tongue hung just below her lower lip. She couldn't fully stick it out with the translucent, slightly white latex pulling it constantly back into her mouth. She closed her eyes hard, straining with the effort.

"She looks like she's got a condom on her tongue. Hope she likes the taste of latex!"

The comments came in, some from people who had tipped, others from those who were simply enjoying the show. They laughed at her. They mocked her. Some told her that she deserved this, that this was her lot in life, and she should enjoy it. A few called her a good girl, and praised her obedience.

Samantha felt bad for the poor girl, and decided to try and tip for something more enjoyable for her.

She noticed a button that said "take total control: 500 HC for 10 minutes. No other commands accepted until duration is up."

She decided to try it. Maybe she could give Carol a little bit of a break and give her a nice reward for a while.

Samantha tapped the button. Her credit balance decreased 500, and she began to type.

"You've been such a good girl, and you deserve a reward. Take the garble out, I know she hates it and she's been a sport about it. Glue her lips with some pretty lipstuck, free her hands, and put a vibroshock in her pussy."

"Thahhhk yuh thooo musshh," blubbered Carol, and the muzzled slavegirl ran a solvent stick along the mouthguard on her lower teeth. After a moment, she reached in and removed the garble, trails of drool coming with it.

"Aw man! Why's SammyServes gotta ruin our fun?" typed one viewer.

"At least we get to see her cum," typed another.

"SammyServes seems to be from the same harem as Carol here. What gives? Why is another slavegirl watching this?"

"I don't know," said a third viewer. "But I like it. It means she's really into this."

The slavegirl unlocked Carol's bondage mitts, sealed her lips with glossy red lipstuck, and slid a vibroshock egg into Carol's latex-sheathed pussy. Samantha's phone buzzed, and a notification popped up prompting her to control Carol's vibroshock. "Touch yourself while I vibe you. I want you to moan loud for me when you cum," typed Samantha.

Carol nodded enthusiastically, chirping "mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!" from behind her glued lips. She began to gently massage the little rubber clit molded onto her orifice sheath, and Samantha set her vibroshock to pulse at a moderate intensity.

"MMM-hm-hm-hm!" squealed Carol as the egg activated inside her. Samantha smiled to herself. This was going to be so hot.

The slavegirl's hips bucked, and her hands worked at her sheath. Samantha set the vibe to max. "MMMPH!" shouted the slavegirl, and she threw her head back in pleasure, her chest heaving. Samantha could tell the girl was getting close.

Samantha felt her heart pounding. Her own hands were in her pants, working at her pussy. "Mmm-hm," said Carol, her hips bucking. She began to grind her pussy into the bed. Her hands were a blur on her sheath. "MMm-Phhh!" she moaned, her hips bucking wildly, her whole body thrashing as she came hard, and her eyes rolled back in her head.

"Oh fuck, yes," moaned Samantha as she watched the video. She pulled her pants and panties down and began touching herself as she watched. Then she had an idea. She wanted to share in Carol's experience. She should use a vibroshock too, and maybe gag herself.

She fumbled through her gift bag and found the vibe, the remote and the panties with latex orifice sheaths. She had to get this right, and fast, before the 10 minutes were up, otherwise Carol might be subjected to more torment at the hands of her viewers.

Samantha grabbed her phone, and scrolled through the settings, looking for a setting that matched Carol's vibe. She pulled her latex orifice sheath onto her pussy, squirming a bit to make the panties fit more snug. Then she stuffed the vibroshock egg inside the orifice sheath and activated the sync function on her phone. She looked at her clock, realizing she only had 3 more minutes. She'd have to get this done quickly.

Samantha found the ballgag with the large, soft rubber ball, and pulled it between her lips. It was big, it stretched her jaw and made her drool a bit. She liked that. Then, she pulled the square of microfoam tape across her mouth, and smoothed it down. Her lips were sealed shut, the gag held tight in her mouth. The tape stretched tight across her lips and adhered tightly to her skin. She could feel its tight grip, its firm hold. She felt its power, its control, its strength. It felt so strong, so powerful, and it made her feel weak, submissive, helpless. She could barely breathe, and she liked it. Now that her gag was in place, Samantha could enjoy herself.

She turned the vibration function to a higher level, and made it constant instead of pulses. Carol shrieked wordlessly, and Samantha moaned a deep guttural "mmmmph" into her own gag. She was so turned on, and she wanted more.

Samantha felt the vibration of the toy in her sheath. She was getting close. She was getting close to cumming, to losing herself. She wanted to lose herself. She needed to lose herself.

She felt the heat in her body rising, she was so close. Her hips bucked, and she moaned a deep "mmmnnnngghh," her voice strained by the effort.

Her hands worked at her own sheath. Her fingers massaging the molded, rubbery clit. She could feel her orgasm building, and she knew that if she could just keep it up, just a little longer, she would lose herself.

"Mmmmpph," moaned Samantha into her gag. She could feel her orgasm building.

"MMmph! Mmph, mmm, mmhmmmm," Carol moaned into her gag, her body thrashing. "MMM-mmmmm," she moaned, and then she went quiet, her body shivering. Samantha knew she'd cum.

Samantha was close to the edge. She could feel the tension building in her body. She was so close to cumming. Her body was aching, her pussy throbbing. She needed to cum.

The vibration of the vibroshock in her sheath increased, and the buzzing in her orifices intensified, and she felt a rush of pleasure course through her. Her muscles clenched, her body shook. She was on the brink. She was on the brink of losing herself.

"MMMmmmmmpppHHHH!" she screamed into the gag. Her hips bucked. She felt her orgasm building. Her muscles tightened. She was close, she was on the brink, and she was about to cum. "Mmmphh, mmmpHH, mmmPPPHHH!" she moaned, her voice breaking as her climax washed over her, her body shuddering. Her mind was blank. All that existed was the intense, overpowering pleasure of her orgasm. Her eyes squeezed shut, her body thrashing, and she screamed a muffled, guttural scream, the sound of her own moaning filling her ears. "Mmmmpppphhhhh, mmmmph, mmmmmphhh," she moaned into the gag.

Samantha felt the last waves of her orgasm crash over her, and she felt herself go limp. She was exhausted. She was spent.

Her heart pounded in her ears. Her eyes were closed. Her breath came in ragged gasps, and the world spun. She was so tired.

Slowly, slowly, she came down. She was panting. Her body was covered in sweat. Her pussy ached. Her body ached. She could feel the soreness of the muscles in her abdomen.

She lay on her bed. She could feel the softness of the sheets. She could smell the scent of her own arousal. She could feel the wetness between her thighs. She could feel her juices flowing from her pussy, and she could feel her heart beating.

She could taste the rubber ball and foam tape on her lips, and she felt a little ashamed and embarrassed. Had that been an inappropriate thing to do? Maybe, she thought, but she couldn't bring herself to care right now. She was exhausted and happy and satisfied. That's all that mattered. Suddenly her vibrator cut off, and she realized her ten minutes were up. Carol would be at the mercy of her viewers yet again.

She saw Carol blow her a kiss from her pink, glued lips.

She typed, "thank you Carol, you're such a good girl. You've done very well. Your master should be proud!" Her words appeared on the screen and she saw Carol blush, a shy smile creeping across her face.

She saw the comments rolling in, "wow, who's this other girl?"

"She must be from the same HaremCo facility as Carol," someone typed. "I'm sure she's just another HaremCo slut, they're both slaves of the same master."

"Why doesn't she have any pics on her profile? I wanna see Sammy."

"I'm definitely going to have to drop in on her first cam session. I'm pissed she just ruined all our fun."

"Oh come on, she just tipped 500 and gave us all a cam show. You watched a bitch get her mouth glued shut and cum for 10 minutes straight, and you're complaining?"

"Little Girl's profile says she likes lipstuck and that vibroshock egg. It's beautiful when a woman enjoys her own helplessness."

"I'mma start saving up for Sammy's first cam session. That slut's gonna wish she stayed in her place."

"SammyServes, post something. We're all curious."

Samantha realized she was becoming the subject of the discussion in the chat. A lot of these guys wanted her on a cam show and some of them even wanted to punish her, to humiliate her.

This was dangerous. If her fans knew she had a haremco profile and did regular livestreams, her career might be destroyed. But she was a star now. Her Twitter was a sensation. Could the controversy make her a household name? Could she turn this to her advantage?

She could, she decided, and it could be worth the risk. She'd have to discuss this with Dominic, though, to get his perspective and his permission. He'd have a better sense of the opportunity cost.

Samantha got up from her bed and went into her bathroom. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, the ballgag in her mouth and the square of foam tape sealing her lips, her nipples erect and her eyes bright and wide. She took a quick photo with her phone. The image was sexy. It was hot. She looked like a real porn star. Or a fetish model, at least.

She could see the outline of the large rubber ball stretching her lips in the photo, and her eyes were wide with desire and excitement, and a little fear. The microfoam tape covering her lips, holding the ballgag tightly between them, was stretched taut. She was completely helpless and unable to resist, her mouth sealed tight, her tongue pinned. She couldn't even talk if she tried. Her breasts were swollen and her nipples were erect. Her body was on fire. And the picture showed all of it. She was so exposed. So vulnerable. She was so turned on, and she loved how the photo looked. But would the other members of the community like it? Would the viewers think she was sexy? And was she really ready to go through with this? To alter her public image forever, to be associated with HaremCo and their pro-BDSM agenda?

Maybe. But not just yet.

She attached the picture to a message and sent it to Dominic, writing "Would this be a good start to a HaremFans profile? Is that something you want me to do, Master?"

Samantha waited patiently for Dominic's response, her heart racing, her body trembling with excitement. Her pussy was wet. Her nipples were erect. Her body was on fire. She couldn't wait to find out if she'd be doing more of this, if she'd be posting on her profile and sharing her experiences, if she'd become a full-fledged sub, and a full-fledged internet celebrity. It seemed so exciting. It seemed like an adventure, and she was eager to start.

She peeled off the microfoam tape and unbuckled her ballgag, releasing all the drool she'd built up while wearing it. She removed the vibroshock, which made her shiver, and then she pulled the orifice sheath panties off and placed everything back in her gift bag. She'd have to remember to wash all her new gear after using it. She'd need to take good care of it, if she was going to keep doing this, if this was going to be her new lifestyle, her new career.

Her phone beeped. It was a reply from Dominic. "You're on the right track. We will speak about it in more detail at the party. Be prepared to look and act like a sub. All the HaremCo executives will be there, as well as Senator Blume himself. I'll come by to pick you up at 6 PM. Make sure you look your best."

Oh shit. Samantha had forgotten about her date with Dominic tonight. And she hadn't known Senator Blume would be coming. She may be having dinner tonight with the next President. Oh, God. What was she supposed to wear? She had no idea.

Suddenly, her day of pleasure and relaxation had been replaced with nervousness, stress, and anxiety.

Part 2 - A Dominated Dinner Date

Samantha put the finishing touches on her makeup, and checked her hair one final time in her bathroom. She had settled on a classy black dress, a pearl necklace and matching earrings. She'd decided to try and look elegant, refined, like the sort of woman the powerful men she was meeting would expect. Someone with class and poise, a woman of grace and elegance. But the sort that they would want to dominate, that would appeal to their darkest, most base instincts. The perfect balance. Samantha hoped she had found that balance.

There was a knock on the door. Samantha rushed to the door. She was excited, but also very anxious and a little bit scared. She was nervous to see Dominic again, after he had brushed her off last night. She hoped she wouldn't appear too desperate.

She opened the door. Dominic stood on her doorstep, in a perfectly tailored, very expensive-looking dark suit. He was wearing an elegant tie, his hair combed and styled. His cologne was intoxicating. He had a small, white, plastic shopping bag hanging from one wrist. He was smiling.

"Hey," Samantha said, feeling shy and nervous. She wanted to reach out, to kiss him on the cheek, to tell him that she was glad to see him, that she had missed him, that he looked handsome in his suit. But she didn't know if that would be appropriate.

"Hey, yourself," he replied. He stepped into her apartment. She was wearing a little black dress, her long, blonde hair pulled back into a neat ponytail, a pearl necklace around her neck, and a pair of earrings. Her lips were painted a deep red, and her eyeliner and mascara were perfect, making her eyes stand out and shine. She was wearing heels, and they were high, making her taller, making her legs longer, and showing off her beautiful, shapely calves. She was a stunning beauty, and he was lucky to be the one escorting her to dinner. "Wow, you clean up nice," he smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "You, too," she blushed. He was so handsome and strong. She had to stop herself from staring. She felt a surge of attraction to him, a rush of arousal. Her heart beat faster. "So, uh, what's the plan for tonight?" she asked, trying to keep her cool. Trying not to give away how she felt, how she wanted to throw her arms around him and press her lips to his. How she wanted him to take her in his arms and hold her tight. She was nervous, excited, and a little bit afraid.

"First, I have a few rules," Dominic replied. "Rule number one: don't embarrass me. This is a business function. Don't do anything stupid or say anything stupid. Don't be a fool. Don't drink too much. Just stay on your best behavior. Do not make me look bad. Understand?"

"Yes, of course," Samantha agreed, swallowing hard. "I promise. I'll behave myself." She was intimidated, but she was determined to do the best job she could. This was an opportunity, a chance to impress some very important people. To show that she had what it took. That she was the kind of woman they were looking for. That she was worthy of being a member of the inner circle. Of the elite.

"Second rule," Dominic continued. "You are my submissive, and I expect you to act like a submissive. That means, if someone asks you a question, you will answer. If I tell you to do something, you will obey. You are mine. My property. Understood?"

Samantha felt a twinge of fear. He was being very serious. Very stern. He was a very intimidating presence, a man who clearly knew how to handle a woman. And she had no doubt that he was a master at handling a woman, a master of the bedroom, of the art of dominance. He was the kind of man who could get whatever he wanted. Who could have her on her knees in seconds, if he so chose. Who could bend her over a table and spank her ass until it was a bright red, until it was sore, until she was screaming in pain and humiliation, until she begged him to stop, to let her cum. To make her his.

"I, um," she began. "Okay." Her voice was shaky. Her legs were weak. Her pussy was wet. She could hardly think.

"You'll refer to me as 'Sir,' or 'Master,'" Dominic continued, his voice stern and firm. He had no intention of backing down, and he expected total obedience. He expected to be addressed properly, and to have his commands obeyed without question. "Do you understand?"

Samantha nodded. "Yes, Master. I understand." She was trembling with nervousness, but also excitement. This was so new to her. She had never felt this way before. Never had a man treated her this way before. Never had a man been so dominant and commanding, and so obviously in control of the situation. It was exciting. It was scary. It was arousing. Her heart was pounding. She could feel the blood rushing in her ears.

Dominic's demeanor shifted, and his voice became warmer and less stern. "Samantha, I promise that you will enjoy yourself," he assured her. "You're a smart and beautiful young lady. There are a great deal of opportunities available for a woman in your position, especially when her political views align so well with those of our organization."

"Thank you," Samantha said. Her stomach was in knots, and her hands were clammy, and she couldn't seem to stop herself from shaking. "I am very grateful for this opportunity," she managed to stammer. Her words came out a little slurred, a little shaky, a little uncertain.

"Good girl," he replied, giving her a smile that sent chills down her spine.

"Now," said Dominic as he reached into his bag, "you'll need to put this in your mouth, and glue your lips. I picked out a shade of lipstuck I think you'll like." He handed her a small tube of the cosmetic, and a silicone mouthplug. Samantha shivered as she remembered Brandon shoving a mouthplug into her mouth at the Boutique, the feeling of helplessness, the taste and smell, and the fear of being trapped. But this time she was choosing it.

"Are...are you sure, sir? Is this really necessary?" she whispered. Her pussy was wet and she felt her heart race. She didn't know what to do. She didn't know how to respond.

"Yes," he replied. He looked at her with an intense, piercing stare, his eyes filled with authority and power. "I want to see how you'll look." His gaze was firm and unwavering. He wasn't asking her opinion. He wasn't asking her to decide. He wasn't interested in hearing her thoughts on the matter. He was telling her what to do, and he expected her to comply.

Samantha couldn't deny the arousal and excitement coursing through her, but also the humiliation. What if she saw her neighbors on the walkway, or the paparazzi waiting outside the restaurant? Would she be able to pretend she wasn't embarrassed? That her humiliation was turning her on?

"O-okay, Master. If you think it's a good idea," Samantha agreed, and her voice was barely above a whisper, her body trembling, and her cheeks flushing. Her fingers trembled as she brought the plug to her open lips, and the familiar taste of silicone hit her tongue. The soft, pliable material slid over her tongue and into her mouth. The thick, rubbery object pressed against the roof of her mouth, the sides of her cheeks, and her lips. She bit down, securing the mouthguards in place, and her tongue settled into its little cavity inside the plug. She chewed gently and worked the mouthplug firmly in place, then barely managed to close her lips over the mass of plastic.

"Now use the lipstuck to glue your lips," Dominic ordered. "Take your time and do a good job."

Samantha twisted the tube, extending the dark burgundy lipstick tip. She had worn lipstick many times, and had even worn the lipstuck once at the boutique. She was used to applying makeup. She knew what to do. But still her hands shook, her breath was short and her heart raced, and her head was a mess. Was this really a good idea? To go out in public like this, gagged and helpless and completely unable to communicate? She knew that once she glued her own lips, she'd be trapped in silence. Completely unable to call for help, to cry for mercy. To scream. She'd be totally at the mercy of her master, of her fate, and the people around her.

Samantha raised the lipstick to her lips. The waxy stick touched the soft skin, the pressure firm, and her lips were forced to part slightly, to allow the tip to glide between them. She felt her heart race and her stomach drop. She pressed her lips together and felt them stick fast, trapped in a gentle pucker from being pushed out slightly by the silicone underneath.

"There, perfect," Dominic said, and she saw his smile, and the satisfaction on his face. "You're going to make a great submissive, Samantha," he said, his tone almost tender. "You're a natural."

Samantha couldn't help the feeling of pleasure and pride that spread through her at his praise. He was pleased with her, and that was a wonderful thing to hear. She wanted him to be pleased with her, and she didn't want to disappoint him. She was determined to please him. She wanted to be a good girl.

"We're going to go now, and I will be doing all the talking on the walk to the car and during the ride," Dominic continued, his tone firm. "You will not attempt to speak or to make any noise. You will not draw attention to yourself in any way, and you will remain quiet and obedient. If you are seen, simply act natural and remain silent. You look perfectly normal to a casual observer; in fact, that shade of lipstuck looks classy on you. Now, let's go. Once we're in the car, I'll instruct you on what's expected of you at this dinner. Come, Samantha," he beckoned as he stepped out of the door.

And so Samantha did. She stepped out of her front door and followed Dominic to his waiting car. As they walked, Samantha could see the other people on the street, and she was certain that she must look odd, or strange. She knew that she should be embarrassed, and humiliated, but her arousal and excitement outweighed that, and she kept walking. She was aware of her own vulnerability, and that if anything happened, she wouldn't be able to advocate for herself. She'd have to rely on Dominic to speak for her.

At the stairwell, she crossed paths with her landlady, a sweet middle-aged woman who always went out of her way to chat with her tenants. Samantha couldn't avoid her.

"Samantha! So nice to see you! You're looking lovely. Are you on your way out for a night on the town?"

Samantha flushed, nodding silently. She could barely move her lips. They were stuck together so tightly that it felt as if her mouth were welded shut. She couldn't speak. Couldn't make any noise at all, except perhaps a quiet mumble, a small moan, a tiny whimper. Her cheeks were red. Her face felt hot, and her body was tingling and warm.

"Ah, yes, I see you're all dressed up," the older woman smiled, eyeing Samantha's elegant outfit and her high heels. "Well, have a good night, dear. I hope you enjoy yourself."

Samantha waved again and followed Dominic to his car. The woman gave a small wave and watched them go.

In the car, Dominic turned to Samantha and spoke to her. "We'll be meeting with a lot of very powerful men, Samantha," he began, and his tone was serious, his words clipped. "I expect that you will conduct yourself as a lady, and not embarrass me, or my organization. You are to keep quiet, and to follow instructions. If I give an order, you are to obey it without question or hesitation. Do you understand?"

Samantha couldn't do anything except nod. Her mouth was glued shut, her lips clamped together. Her tongue was pinned, her mouth filled. She was helpless to protest, to resist. She could only agree. And she was beginning to feel a strange mixture of fear, excitement, and desire, and she was having a difficult time keeping her mind clear and focused.

Dominic nodded in return and started the car, pulling away from the curb.

"The CEO of HaremCo, the senator, and his PR man Sean will all be at the dinner. They will all be accompanied by women: the CEO's wife Janet, Sean's girlfriend Chloe, and Senator Blume's Russian trophy wife Vonka. You, Janet, and Chloe will all enter the restaurant and begin the dinner discreetly gagged with lipstuck. We want to show how tasteful and discreet our products can be, so having you walk past the other diners on the way to the private dining room without notice is important. If there are paparazzi taking photos, all the better. In fact, we're counting on it."

He looked over at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright and shining. He could smell the arousal emanating from her body, the musky scent of her sex.

"We're counting on surprising Blume with the fact you ladies are all invisibly gagged. Once he notices, we will remove your gags for the course of the meal. I will allow you to speak, and to ask questions of us HaremCo execs, but you must remain obedient, excited to participate, and positive on all aspects of HaremCo's plans while in public," warned Dominic, "if you reflect poorly on us we will immediately terminate your association with our program." Samantha could tell that the last bit wasn't a joke. This was serious. Very serious, indeed.

Samantha was overwhelmed with conflicting emotions, and her brain was spinning. She was aroused, and scared, and confused, and worried, and excited, and terrified. Her head was a jumbled mess of conflicting feelings and thoughts. But one thing was clear: she was in no position to disobey or argue, and her best option was to follow the instructions given to her and do what was asked of her. And she was eager to prove her value to Dominic and to his colleagues at the dinner.

"Now, once dinner is over, I have a special performance I'll need you to give for Senator Blume. I saw this at the Dollhouse yesterday," he reached in the backseat and, to Samantha's shock, produced a Marilyn Monroe hood with a mouth insert, just like the one she'd worn when she sang happy birthday to Dominic and Sean at the Dollhouse. Dominic still didn't know it had been her in the mask. "You're going to wear this and sing happy birthday to him. It will be his birthday next month, and I think he will find it entertaining to have such a pretty young starlet in his lap. Maybe you can sit in his lap and flirt a bit."

Her eyes went wide. Sit on a strange, powerful man's lap, wearing that mask, in the back of a limo or private room, and not knowing what to expect?

But she didn't have the ability to respond. Her mind was a jumble, and her tongue was tied.

"I know you haven't done anything like this before," said Dominic, and Samantha noted the irony that she was actually the inspiration for his idea, "so I'll let you out of the mask once you're done. I don't want you to get too overwhelmed. At the end of the evening, we will gag you girls with american flag permaseals, and you'll be seen by the diners and the media wearing them. This will officially associate you, and Senator Blume, with HaremCo. You'll post on your socials while wearing the patriotic gag, and promise your fans an exciting new adventure with HaremCo."

Dominic pulled the car into a parking spot and turned to look at Samantha, whose eyes were still wide with anxiety. "Now, let's go have fun. Don't worry, you're a natural at this, and you'll have a great time. Trust me." He smiled, and then got out of the car, opening her door and helping her step out onto the pavement. He placed his hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards the restaurant.

A series of camera flashes burst from the bushes, the paparazzi already taking photos. Dominic smiled for the cameras and led Samantha to the doors, which swung open as they approached.

The interior was dimly lit, with a low ceiling, and the tables were set with crisp white tablecloths, and candles flickered softly on the tables. Soft piano music drifted through the air. It was an intimate and elegant atmosphere, and Samantha couldn't help but feel a little bit of excitement as they stepped inside. The maître d' bowed slightly to them and gestured toward a door. "This way," he said, leading the couple through the main dining room and into a side entrance. "Your party is waiting," he added.

As they entered, the smell of fine Italian cuisine hit them, and Samantha could feel her mouth water. She hadn't eaten in hours and her stomach was growling with hunger. Her eyes scanned the room, looking at the group of men, each one a powerful and influential person. She could feel the energy in the room and it made her nervous, but excited.

Dominic and Samantha sat down at the large, circular table. The other couples, a handsome man with his gorgeous wife, along with Sean and Chloe, who waved at Samantha with a smile in her eyes that didn't reach her glossy pink glued lips were seated across from her. Senator Blume, a balding man in his 60s, and a blonde Russian woman with extensive but tasteful plastic surgery and puffy bimbo lips were to her left.

Senator Blume spoke first, "well if it isn't the infamous Ms. Steele! Always a pleasure. Do you remember the last convention we spoke at? I never would have guessed you'd be taping your mouth shut on social media. Still, it's provided quite a lot of buzz for my campaign. Who knew shutting women up would resonate so much with my base?"

The other men at the table chuckled, and Samantha could sense their approval. Her face burned and her body was tense, and the men around her could tell, could see her embarrassment and discomfort, but none of them were sympathetic. They were amused by it, entertained. It made her squirm, and her skin was prickled and hot.

"Let's get on with introductions," Dominic announced. "You've all heard of Ms. Steele here, and this is her first outing with us. Please welcome her. This is Chloe, a model for HaremCo and girlfriend to Sean, PR manager for the Blume campaign. The HaremCo CEO, Edward Major, and his lovely wife Janet are also in attendance. We're all familiar with Senator Blume, of course, and I presume this charming woman is your wife?" Dominic gestured towards Vonka, who scoffed and loudly chewed gum with a sour expression on her face.

"Vonka," Senator Blume said. His wife rolled her eyes and muttered something in Russian, blowing a loud bubble and letting it pop.

"Well," continued Dominic. "Now that the pleasantries are over, why don't we talk shop, gentlemen?" He turned to the senator. "You know that the Republicans have a real shot at the White House in the upcoming election cycle. You could be the man to bring about that change. Your chances of winning are far greater than any of the Democratic nominees, especially considering that the Democrats have a female front-runner. No one takes a woman politician seriously, no matter how well she can parrot talking points and look good on camera." Senator Blume looked pleased at this comment. He smiled and nodded.

Dominic continued, "We believe that you can become president, and we are willing to back your campaign financially, as long as you commit to pushing a few key initiatives for us once in office. Namely, we'd like to see a national law similar to the state law that's being pushed in California. We'd like to codify a form of 'Male Guardianship' in which a husband has complete control over his wife and can take total responsibility for her actions, and even have her legally stripped of the ability to enter contracts, testify in court, and own or earn property."

Samantha could hear a hint of excitement in his voice as he spoke. She knew that this was a dream of his, and the fact that he had the power to make it happen made him giddy. He was a true believer in what HaremCo stood for, and she could see the passion in his eyes. But was that really such a good idea? She had been in a committed, loving relationship, and she had experienced the power dynamic that existed in the relationship. It was a delicate balance that could easily be disrupted if one partner became more dominant, or the other less submissive.

"Interesting," the senator replied thoughtfully, rubbing his chin. "It is an ambitious proposal, but one that I can see resonating well with the American people. If you are willing to support my campaign financially, then perhaps I can consider supporting this initiative. What are your terms, and what are the specifics of this plan?"

"We'll draw up an official contract later," replied the CEO, and his voice was smooth and calm, his eyes glinting in the dim light of the room. "For now, let's just enjoy the meal." He signaled a waiter, who approached with a large tray of appetizers, and began to place them on the table. As the food was served, Samantha couldn't help but notice the looks that the other men were giving the three bound women, their eyes darting back and forth between them. Their gazes were appraising, predatory. Samantha could feel her heart rate quicken and her skin begin to heat up.

"So, these are the new stars of your organization, huh?" the senator said. He gestured to Samantha, Chloe, and Janet, sitting in silence. "They look... eager. Tell me about them. What are their roles?"

"Well, I'll start with Samantha, since you two already have a relationship," began the CEO, gesturing to Samantha. "Samantha's star power will be essential in pushing through some of our most controversial initiatives. Her influence and popularity among young women, particularly on social media, is undeniable, and the optics of having her in the room are very strong. She's known as an outspoken firebrand, so silencing her while simultaneously triggering feminists will serve to normalize and glamorize our lifestyle."

"I see," chuckled Blume, "I have to say, I never thought you'd go for this kind of thing, Sam. How do you feel about your role in all this?"

"Mmmph...mmm?" she murmured from behind her glued-shut lips, unable to speak.

Senator Blume looked bewildered, and Sean gave a small chuckle, "we thought we might surprise you by showcasing one of our most discrete and fashionable products. Chloe here, Janet, and Samantha are all wearing a new product we're releasing. We call it lipstuck. A lipstick and adhesive in one. These women have all sealed their lips closed and cannot speak, though you'd never have noticed unless you got up close or touched their mouths." Chloe smiled, pursing her pink glued-together lips and fluttering her false lashes, while the CEO's wife blushed, smiling nervously and looking down.

Samantha flushed, her heart beating in her ears, her skin prickled and hot as she blushed. Everyone at the table stared at her as she squirmed, embarrassed at the sudden attention.

"Holy shit, that's incredible," said Blume, his voice filled with awe. He reached over and gently pressed his fingers to her lips, feeling the slight tackiness and the firm hold of the lipstuck. "And how long can a girl wear something like that, before it needs to be removed?"

"Well, our studies show that it can stay on indefinitely. Eventually, you'd need a chemical solvent to remove it, but until then it will stay in place," the CEO said, his voice proud, his chest puffed out with pride, "it can only be removed by the man, and once applied, the woman has no control over whether she is able to communicate or not."

"That's incredible."

"That's fucking ridiculous," sniggered Vonka in her thick Russian accent, smirking at the other three women, "you dumb bitches let someone glue your stupid lips shut? Why the fuck would you do that?" Vonka laughed and shook her head.

"Vonka!" Senator Blume said, embarrassed. His wife had been getting progressively more vulgar and rude lately, and he didn't appreciate it. "Please, keep your opinions to yourself. I don't need my constituents hearing about your views on these matters."

"What's wrong with you, honey," she snapped, "do you like these fucking cunts better than me because they can't talk?"

Sean looked at the Russian bombshell and shook his head, trying not to laugh. He didn't envy the senator his choice in a wife, and she seemed to get on everyone's nerves. It was amazing that the senator had stayed married to her as long as he had, but now, it seemed like he had finally had enough of her. Sean couldn't help but chuckle to himself.

Vonka had been a problem for the senator from day one. Her crude behavior and foul language had caused many a scandal in the past, and it had become an embarrassment to him. Her antics were becoming a distraction, and it was clear that the senator was fed up with her. She was a liability, and it was only a matter of time before the senator would have to do something about her. And it was clear what he was going to do: send her away to the same fate of those girls. Sean could barely suppress his amusement at the thought of Vonka in an HCO, and it would be the best thing for everyone involved.

Senator Blume, his cheeks reddening with anger and embarrassment, turned to her, "please, Vonka, shut the hell up," his tone was harsh, his words clipped, and his voice was cold and angry. "You're embarrassing yourself and you're embarrassing me."

She rolled her eyes. "What's the big fucking deal? They're fucking dumb sluts, and you're a bunch of fucking misogynistic assholes. They want to be fucking treated like children and can't handle that I'm the only grown ass bitch at the table. Fuck all you. You can go fuck yourself," she spat. She blew a bubble and let it pop loudly.

Samantha watched, fascinated and a little horrified, at the unfolding scene. Vonka was clearly a woman on the edge of losing control, her temper was on a short fuse and her mouth was full of profanities. She was a loose cannon, a liability, and it was clear that the senator had had enough of her. She was a liability, a risk to the senator and his reputation, and his image as a strong and powerful man. It was time to cut her loose.

"You know, Senator, the Harem Company has a number of excellent programs to rehabilitate young, troublesome women. Perhaps you and your lovely wife could benefit from our services," suggested the CEO, his eyes gleaming. His tone was casual, almost offhand, but his meaning was clear, and his intent was obvious. He wanted the senator to send his wife to them for 're-education' and to use the power of the company to tame the unruly woman and to bring her into line, to make her a compliant and docile wife. To make her a proper wife for a man in the senator's position. To make her a proper wife for him.

"What the fuck did you say, you motherfucker? I'm a free American, and no one's fucking reprogramming me," Vonka shouted. Her face was red with anger and she was practically shaking with rage.

"You are an American because you are married to me," snapped Blume, "and because I made a personal call to have your criminal record in Russia overlooked by immigration. I've had enough of your disruptive behavior, so it's time for an ultimatum, Vonka: either you wear the same type of mouthsealer as the rest of these ladies, and stop acting out and causing a spectacle, or you can say goodbye to your life here and hello to the Gulag," Senator Blume threatened.

Vonka's eyes went wide, her face paled. The thought of returning to Russia and facing the consequences of her past crimes was terrifying, and the thought of being silenced in such a way was humiliating. She looked around at the others at the table, who were staring at her, and her defiance wavered. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her and she knew that she was in a corner. Finally, she gave in.

"F-fine," she muttered, "I'm sorry honey, I'll be quiet like you want me. You know how my moods get, I didn't mean it baby. Let's just have dinner, I'll be good."

Blume shook his head. "You'll apologize to the rest of the guests. You will tell the HaremCo execs you'd love to have their training, and that you can't wait to learn how to be a better woman. And you will thank the submissives here for showing you the proper attitude a woman should have, and you'll promise to follow their example." Senator Blume's voice was hard, his expression stony.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry-"

"If I may, Senator," interrupted the CEO, "our company recently invented a behavioral modification tool for just such women as Vonka. It's discreet, like lipstuck, but it highly discourages unwanted speech and can lead to real behavioral change. It's called a garble," he reached in Janet's purse and produced the clear mouthguard and latex sheath that Samantha had seen Carol forced to wear. Samantha shuddered as she remembered the pained, embarrassed look on the girl's face as she sputtered incoherently, her mind in a fog and her jaw aching from being stretched. It was an effective, but humiliating, way to silence someone. It would be even worse in public, with everyone staring at the poor girl.

"I think I'd like to hear about that," the senator replied, intrigued. "How does this 'garble' work?" he asked.

The CEO handed him the mouthpiece, which he inspected closely.

"The mouthguard is filled with the same glue as our lipstuck," explained Sean, "and the latex sheath fits over the tongue, encasing it and making speech uncomfortable and embarrassing. It also fills the mouth with the taste of latex, which can help train women out of bad habits like overeating, smoking, or obsessively chewing gum. Women find the feeling of their tongue being completely encased in rubber disorienting and confusing, and that combined with the humiliation and the garbled speech often results in a change of behavior and a more subdued, less aggressive demeanor." Sean smiled and winked at the senator, "we think a woman like Vonka would really benefit from using a tool like that."

Senator Blume nodded and looked at his wife, who was sitting in a sulking heap, glaring at him and pouting. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her body language defiant and angry, and her lips were tightly pressed together, as though she was holding back a stream of curses. Her mascara had smeared from her tears and her eyeliner had smudged, and her makeup was a mess, her hair tangled. Her dress, a short black number that was too revealing and inappropriate for a dinner like this, was rumpled and her heels were scuffed. She was a mess, and the sight of her made him cringe. He was done with her and her tantrums, her constant need for attention, and her lack of self-control. He wanted a woman like Samantha, or the other two subs at the table, someone he could mold and shape to his desires. Someone who would be the perfect wife, the perfect politician's wife, and someone he could be proud of.

"Vonka, please," said Blume, his tone weary. "This has gone on long enough. Please apologize to everyone and put the garble in. If not, you know the alternative. Don't make this worse for yourself."

Vonka, her face red, her eyes brimming with angry tears, stared at him, and her body shook with anger. "I'm not fucking wearing that!" she hissed. "Fuck you! You can't make me!"

"Enough," growled the senator. "I'm sick of this, and I'm not going to stand for it anymore." He picked up the clear mouthpiece and held it up to her. "Open your mouth. Now." He glowered at her. His voice was deep and commanding, and his gaze was icy and cold.

"Fine, but I'm not saying anything," Vonka spat. "And don't think I'll forget this. You'll pay for this," she sneered. She was still defiant, but her words were weak. Her voice was hoarse and her throat hurt, her face was flushed, and her makeup was smeared and messy. Her dress, her hair, her entire appearance was disheveled, and her eyes were puffy and red. She looked tired and worn, and her defiance was wavering.

"We'll see about that," the senator replied, and he held the mouthpiece up to her, waiting for her to open her mouth and insert the gag. When she hesitated, he reached out and grabbed her chin, his fingers digging into her flesh, his grip firm. He held her chin firmly, and her head jerked, her eyes wide, her lips parting in surprise and shock. He pushed the mouthguard in and watched her try to adjust her teeth around it. He then slid the rubberized tongue covering in place and pressed the mouthguard in, setting the glue to her teeth and ensuring that she would have no way to escape the humiliation. The rubber covered her entire tongue, from the tip to the back, and it felt strange, alien, and wrong. It tasted of rubber and her mouth was filled with the taste and the sensation of the foreign object in her mouth.

"Whuhh thah fughh, ahh khand yoov mah tungh...viff ith zo wheed...umm," she began to complain, but the rubber sheathing her tongue prevented her from enunciating anything. Instead of speaking coherently, her speech was slurred and mumbled, her words jumbling together and becoming incomprehensible. The rubber tongue covering was a sensory and mental assault on her, a violation of her body and mind, and a humiliating experience that would serve to break down her barriers and force her to become compliant and obedient. Her eyes were wide and her breathing was labored as her brain struggled to come to terms with the new sensations in her mouth and the fact that she was unable to form words or communicate effectively. Her cheeks burned and her stomach twisted with humiliation, and she could feel the weight of her shame and embarrassment bearing down on her, crushing her. Tears formed in her eyes and her hands balled into fists, her fingernails digging into her palms.

Samantha watched with a mix of fascination, disgust, and pity, and couldn't help but wonder if she would ever be in the same position, with her own tongue trapped and her mouth silenced, and her pride and dignity in tatters, reduced to a babbling fool, and at the mercy of a man like Senator Blume. Her heart raced and her mind raced with questions, and her body trembled. She nervously chewed at the mouthplug, pressing her tongue uselessly against its silicone encasement, flexing her glued lips while they held fast.

She watched in horror and amazement as the Senator's wife Vonka's speech became garbled and unintelligible, the clear rubberized sheath covering her tongue preventing her from forming the sounds needed for normal conversation. Vonka's eyes widened, and her cheeks reddened as she tried to speak, but the sounds that came out of her mouth were nothing more than a jumbled mess. Her words were slurred and mangled, her voice muffled and distorted, and she sounded like a drunken, babbling fool. She was humiliated and angry, and her body shook with frustration and humiliation.

"Go ahead, tell the table how sorry you are," Blume urged her, and his tone was sarcastic and cruel, and his smile was smug and victorious. "Go ahead, Vonka. Say something. Make an effort," he said, and his words were dripping with contempt and derision.

The rest of the table watched, fascinated and horrified, as the Senator's wife attempted to form coherent words, her mouth working, her tongue trying to find the form the right shapes, her expressions stressed as she struggled to work her mouth normally, "Ahhm thuggh thaahwwugh, pphhleeth tahk thiph phigh ooouuuggghhh..." her speech was a garbled mess of nonsense syllables, her lips quivering and her cheeks flushed with anger and embarrassment, her brow furrowed with concentration and her face contorted in a mix of fear, anger, and desperation, and her voice cracked and faltered as she struggled to make her mouth obey her commands.

"Well, I guess that will have to do," laughed Senator Blume, and his laughter was cruel and mocking, and Janet and Chloe giggled soft murmurs from their glued lips, evidently proud to be so much more dignified in their submission. Samantha found herself smiling subtly with glued lips at Vonka's plight, the irony of the former brash loudmouth now rendered incapable of intelligible speech striking her as funny. "We can't expect a miracle from this thing on the first try," the Senator added. He reached out and stroked her hair in a demeaning, patronizing manner, and she pulled away from his touch, her face flushing and her eyes narrowing.

"Gentlemen, I think the food is getting cold," said Dominic abruptly, "why don't we remove the gags of the well-behaved women at the table, to demonstrate proper submissive behavior for Vonka here. Plus I'm sure we'd all like to talk more about Ms. Steele's partnership with our cause, wouldn't we?" he removed a stick of glue solvent from his pocket, and so did Sean and the CEO. The three doms looked to the subs expectantly, and the girls leaned forward and poked their glued lips outward, their brows raised in a pleading, girlish expression, as the doms approached and gently rubbed the solvents onto the adhesive that sealed their lips together.

Slowly, the adhesive softened then melted off and the women each spit out their molded mouthplugs, surprising Senator Blume, who hadn't known their mouths were filled with such large gags under their lips.

"Oh my, what an evening!" cried Chloe, the first to have the glue solvent removed. "Thank you Master, thank you," she smiled and beamed and her smile lit up her face, and her eyes were sparkling with happiness and pleasure, and she looked at her master with pure, unadulterated joy and love, and Sean was pleased and satisfied that his submissive girlfriend was happy and enjoying her role.

Janet was next to be freed of the glue that had kept her lips pressed together, and her voice was a little shaky as she thanked the CEO of HaremCo and praised him for the honor and privilege of being in his company. She spoke softly and politely, her eyes lowered and her head bowed, and her words were laced with the respect and deference of a properly behaved sub, and her husband was pleased and proud of his obedient, loyal, and dutiful wife. "Thank you, sir," she whispered, "it was a great honor to be included in your plans. I am very grateful for your consideration."

Finally, Samantha's lips parted and the glue fell away. Her tongue slipped free from the silicone mold that had held it captive and she could finally move it and stretch her jaws, and her face broke into a wide grin, and she felt like a huge weight had been lifted off her shoulders. Her cheeks ached and her jaw muscles were sore and tired, and she was relieved and thankful to have her voice restored to her. "Thank you," she whispered, and her words were filled with gratitude and appreciation, and she was overwhelmed with a feeling of freedom and relief, and she felt a rush of emotion that threatened to bring tears to her eyes. She was free, and she could feel her emotions bubbling to the surface, and she could not hold them back any longer. "I'm so glad that you chose me," she murmured, and she meant every word of it, and her heart was bursting with gratitude and joy. "It was an honor to be chosen to participate in this program. Thank you for the opportunity. I will not disappoint you."

As Samantha, Janet, and Chloe all chatted and laughed, they were careful not to address the men or Vonka directly. They were there to please and serve the men, to show their obedience and devotion, to demonstrate that they were willing to submit to their dominants, and to display the benefits of the male guardianship law, to be an example of how a woman could be happy and fulfilled if she surrendered to her husband's will. Their behavior was in sharp contrast to the rude and vulgar Vonka, and the difference between the two types of women was stark. It was clear to all the men in the room that the submissives were far more appealing, desirable, and pleasant to be around.

"Well, ladies," said the CEO, and he was addressing the three submissive wives and their masters, "we are honored and delighted to have you all join us tonight. Your presence here, and your commitment to our program is greatly appreciated, and we are sure that the publicity and positive press from your participation in the Harem Company's initiative will go a long way in furthering the mission of our organization. Your willingness to surrender to the male guardianship law and to allow your husbands to have total control over you, is an excellent example of the benefits of our program, and is an excellent model for the kind of relationships we want to promote in society. Thank you, ladies, and gentlemen," he added, nodding to the senators and executives at the table, "for your generous contributions to our cause, and we are confident that with your continued support, our mission will succeed, and we will see a world where men have complete and absolute authority and power over their wives, and a society where women are obedient and submissive to their husbands. Now, let us begin the meal," and he raised his glass of wine in a toast to the table.

"I'd like to propose another, very special toast," said Dominic, "Senator Blume has a birthday coming up, and to show our gratitude for his endorsement of our cause, I'd like to have Samantha wish him a happy birthday in a way I'm sure you'll all love."

Samantha's face turned beet red as Dominic withdrew the Marilyn Monroe mask from his bag and searched inside it for the mouthplug attached to Marilyn's lips. "Open up, Samantha," he said as he brought the plug and mask up to her face. She knew she had to comply, so she reluctantly parted her lips and allowed Dominic to slip the plastic plug into her mouth. Once again her lips were sealed and she was gagged, unable to protest or to speak, and the plug was heavy in her mouth, pressing her tongue down and making it impossible for her to swallow. She could feel her jaw aching and her cheeks flushing from the strain, and the pressure on her teeth was painful and her mouth was uncomfortably full, and her tongue was forced into a cramped and awkward position, and her eyes watered and she could feel tears forming in the corners of her eyes, and she was struggling not to cry from the discomfort and embarrassment. As the latex stretched over her face, she heard the gasps of the dinner guests, and a hearty chuckle of "I'll be damned, Samantha Steele herself as my personal rubber Marilyn Monroe. Strange times indeed!" from Senator Blume.

She felt the latex tighten as Dominic zipped the back of the hood down to her neck. The latex was tight, and she could barely breathe. She could feel her heartbeat racing, and her breathing became labored. The sound of the zipper sliding closed and the feeling of the hood tightening over her skin was a powerful, almost primal, sensation. She was helpless, trapped in the mask, unable to remove it without help, and she was utterly at the mercy of her captors.

"Now, go on," said Dominic, "do your thing." And Samantha was surprised at how much of her performance from the Dollhouse came back to her.

"Hmm-mmph mmmp-mmm hmm hmmm..." she hummed, her voice muffled by the thick, heavy gag. The song was muffled and muted, but still audible enough to recognize it. Her movements were stiff and awkward as she slowly sang her song in her muffled, nasal voice, but her enthusiasm was evident. "Hmm hmm hmm hmm-hmm hmm hmmmm..."

It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't exactly accurate, but it was close enough to give a good performance. Even through the rubber, you could tell that Samantha was putting her best foot forward.

The others in the room watched with amusement as the provocative political firebrand was reduced to a singing, dancing, muffled mess. She was a sight to behold, her face encased in a latex mask and her lips sealed shut, and her body moving in a sensual and suggestive way. Her movements were clumsy and her voice was muffled and distorted, but her enthusiasm and determination were clear, and the effect was comical and endearing. Senator Blume and the others laughed and clapped as Samantha performed her routine, her eyes twinkling with mirth, and her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. They were entertained by the absurdity of the situation, and the contrast between Samantha's public image and her current state.

The song ended, and Samantha was panting with exhaustion, and the sweat on her body had made the latex cling to her skin even tighter, and she could feel the rubber encasing her, and she felt like she was in a cocoon, unable to move or breathe. Her breathing was heavy, and she was struggling for air, and her body was covered in a sheen of perspiration. The experience was surreal, and she was still coming to terms with the fact that she was in a mask, performing like a puppet for a group of powerful men and women.

Samantha could hear a few of them whispering, and she could feel their eyes on her, appraising her, and judging her, and her face flushed with embarrassment and humiliation.

"Look at that, Blume. You should keep this one," said one of the other diners. "She seems much better behaved than your own wife. You can have her and I'll take that bitch off your hands." He pointed at Vonka.

"Thuck yooh," said Vonka, and the group chuckled at the garbled words.

Samantha had to stifle a giggle, her own situation temporarily forgotten. She had never seen someone silenced in public in this way before, and she was both amused and appalled by it. It was funny, and she couldn't help but smile and chuckle at the ridiculous situation.

But as she sat there in silence, she was also reminded of the fact that she too was gagged. What's more, her face wasn't her own: it was a cartoonish rubber facsimile of her childhood idol, Marilyn Monroe. Her own voice and body language was that of a submissive doll. Samantha was suddenly overwhelmed by a wave of shame and humiliation, as she realized that she was just as much a spectacle as the Russian woman.

As the laughter died down, Senator Blume turned to Samantha. "You can take that silly mask off, honey," he said, chuckling.

"Hmmph, mmm-hmmm," she murmured, her cheeks flushing.

Samantha quickly unzipped the back of the mask and peeled the latex off, taking deep, relieved breaths. She could feel her face and hair sticky and sweaty, and she wiped at the saliva dripping from the corner of her lips.

Senator Blume laughed, and then addressed the table, his voice booming with confidence, "you know, it's interesting that HaremCo has managed to take a girl as outspoken and opinionated as Ms. Steele and get her to wear a gag and perform for me. If she's so easy to tame and to get her to change her tune, what does that say about women as a whole?"

Dominic laughed. "It means that women are much more malleable than we ever realized. And that with the right tools, they can be brought to heel quite easily. Ms. Steele's submission is an example of that."

The senator chuckled, and nodded in agreement, and his gaze swept over the table, his eyes resting on Vonka, who was sitting in sullen silence, her expression sour, and her face pale. Her husband was glaring at her, and she looked miserable.

Dominic continued, his voice smooth and calm, and his tone serious. "I've worked with a number of high profile subs over the years, including many who have become celebrities, like Samantha. I've helped them navigate the public eye, and helped them come to terms with their true nature. The key is to give them a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, and to show them that they are not alone in their journey. We've developed a number of products and services that can help women who are struggling to come to terms with their submissive nature, and who want to find a safe and comfortable way to express their desires."

Samantha could feel her heart pounding, and her stomach churned with nervousness. She knew that she was on the cusp of a new chapter in her life, one in which she would be publicly known as a submissive. She knew that this would have a major impact on her life and career, but she was also excited about the opportunities that lay ahead. She was eager to embrace her new role and to use it as a platform for advocacy, to help others like herself. She was determined to make a difference in the lives of others and to be a force for good.

---

After the group finished eating, the CEO stood and chimed his glass with a spoon, "Gentlemen and ladies, thank you all for coming to this dinner to discuss and promote the passage of the male guardianship act, which has passed in California and will soon pass in other states. We are on the cusp of a major societal shift, and we are very grateful to all of you for your generous contributions to the cause of our organization.

"I have some very special gag products that we would love for all of the ladies here to wear as a sign of your commitment to the future we are all striving for. Chloe and Janet are both familiar with the HaremCo permanent adhesive line of products, so I don't think it should come as much of a shock. These products are for sale to the general public now, but are only being used on a small scale, so we want to make sure they become mainstream as part of Ms. Steele's "silent majority" trend of publicly gagged women."

He turned to the table of men, who were sitting with their wives and girlfriends. "As you can see, these are adhesive plasters with an American Flag motif. I will be asking each of you to glue these to your lady's face and take a picture to commemorate this momentous occasion, and post the images online with a short statement of support of the male guardianship act."

He paused, looking at each of the men in turn, before continuing, "Now, I want to be very clear that these gags are permanent. They can only be removed by the husband or guardian. The adhesive is strong, and the plasters are designed to withstand any attempts at removal. Attached to these sample plasters is a small tube of our special solvent, which is the only way to safely remove the gag. We'll be passing out these samples on our way out of the restaurant, and once we're outside, the paparazzi will be waiting. I want all of you ladies to wear these permaseals with pride, and enthusiastically distribute samples to couples throughout the restaurant. However people react, and they will be provoked, believe me, you girls must remain collected and dignified. That means you, Vonka."

Samantha, and the rest of the women, could feel the weight of his words sink in. The reality of what he was saying hit them hard. It was one thing to talk about wearing a gag, it was quite another to actually be asked to do so, especially in public, with cameras and strangers watching. It was a bold move on the CEO's part, and it would be a test of the girls' commitment to their roles as subs. It would also be a test of the public's willingness to embrace the male guardianship act and the idea of a woman's submission.

"Now, ladies," said Dominic, and he turned to Samantha, "I'd like you to put the plaster on first." He held out the permaseal and looked at her with a small, almost mischievous, smile.

Samantha took the American Flag themed gag and held it in her hands. She could feel her heart pounding and her stomach churned with nervousness, and her mouth was dry. She knew that she had to do it, but she was scared. It was a big step, a very public one, and she was worried about what people would think. She was worried about what the public would say, what they would post online, and how they would react to seeing her wearing a gag. She was also worried about her career, her reputation, and her future. She had worked so hard to build a successful career, and she was not sure how people would react to seeing her in such a submissive role.

She glanced around at the others at the table, the men and women who were watching her, and she felt a sense of responsibility, a duty to do what was right, and to show that she was willing to make sacrifices for the cause. She took a deep breath, and her fingers trembled as she peeled the back off the adhesive.

"Go on, Sam, put it on. Show everyone that you're committed to this," said Dominic, and his voice was reassuring, and she could feel his strength, and his confidence, and his belief in her, and it gave her strength, and she knew that she had to do it, and that she could do it.

She looked at the American Flag plaster and felt a surge of pride. A wicked grin spread across her face.

"Fuck feminism," she said, then she slapped the plaster across her mouth, pressing it firmly with her hand to set the glue.

The uproar of laughter and applause from everyone but Vonka was just what she had hoped for. She was still a firebrand, still her liberal-triggering, unapologetic self. She wasn't the puppet of these men, not really, she was just using her sexuality in a new way. She was playing them, using her sex appeal to gain access to powerful connections and media attention.

She'd almost lost herself for a moment, but she was back. This was no different than her mouth-taped selfie. That's what she told herself.

The other women, even Vonka, reluctantly placed the plasters across their lips, and soon all of the women were gagged, their faces plastered with the American Flag plasters, and their mouths sealed shut. It was a strange and powerful sight, and it made the men feel powerful and dominant, and the women felt a mixture of excitement and fear, and a sense of belonging and pride.

The men and women then left the private dining room, and the women were given a stack of plasters with solvent to distribute to other couples in the restaurant. The women were nervous and scared, but they did their best to remain dignified and collected. They approached the couples, who were mostly conservative and wealthy, and offered the plasters, and the solvent. Some couples were intrigued and accepted the plasters, while others were disgusted and angry, and refused them. Samantha could hear the murmuring and the whispers, and she could see the looks of shock and disgust on the faces of some of the diners.

One man looked at her and sneered, and his wife clung to his arm, her face pale. "Disgusting," he spat. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Samantha's face grew hot, and she was tempted to respond, but she remembered Dominic's words and stayed silent, smiling sweetly instead.

Another woman, who was sitting with her husband, glared at Samantha and said, "You're an embarrassment to women everywhere. How dare you do this?"

Samantha remained calm and smiled at the woman, nodding her head in thanks, and continued distributing the plasters. One woman, who was clearly drunk, looked at the plaster and then at Samantha, and burst into a fit of laughter. She pointed at Samantha and said, "Oh my god, look at her! What a fucking joke!"

Samantha flushed with embarrassment, but she kept her cool and moved on.

Some of the diners were more receptive, however, and eagerly accepted the plasters. A young couple, who were sitting in the back corner of the restaurant, grinned as they watched Samantha approach.

"You know, I always thought those things were stupid," said the man, but his partner shook her head and smiled shyly.

"I think it's hot," she whispered to her boyfriend. "I'd love to try one of those on."

The man seemed hesitant but finally agreed, "I guess it could be fun," he said with a shrug.

Samantha smiled at them and handed them a plaster, and a vial of solvent, and they thanked her politely and walked away. The rest of the night went by in a blur of shocked and scandalized faces, angry and disgusted comments, and curious and amused reactions, but Samantha stayed composed, and proud, and she passed out the plasters with grace, and dignity.

The CEO, Dominic, and the others exited the restaurant and stepped onto the street, where the paparazzi were waiting for them. The flashbulbs went off, and the journalists and photographers shouted questions and insults, and some of them even tried to touch the women, but Dominic and the other men formed a wall around them, and escorted them to their cars.

The drive home was tense and uncomfortable. Samantha sat in the back seat of Dominic's car, her face still plastered with the flag themed gag, her mind racing with thoughts and doubts, and her chest heaving with anxiety. Dominic didn't speak to her, and he kept his eyes on the road. Finally, Samantha couldn't take the silence any longer, and she reached up to tug at the adhesive holding the seal in place. Suddenly, she felt a firm hand grab her wrist, pulling her back, "No," came the stern, firm voice of Dominic. "Leave that alone."

Samantha let out a small whine, squirming slightly, but he wouldn't relent. It left her frustrated, helplessly muted with no way to communicate, but strangely turned on at being unable to control the situation in which she found herself.

The car finally arrived at Dominic's house, and he opened the door for her and ushered her inside. He led her into the living room, and they sat down on the sofa, facing each other. She noticed a remote control on the table in front of them, and a TV screen mounted on the wall.

Samantha didn't know what the hell was going on. She thought Dominic was driving her home.

"Mmmmph? Mmm-mmmph hmmm...." she murmured tentatively through her sealed lips, her eyes flickering towards the TV screen in anticipation.

Dominic smiled and patted her knee.

"Don't worry, Sam. Everything is going to be okay. You know what your purpose is in the movement, and what you mean to me. You've done your job perfectly so far." He leaned forward, brushing his lips against her ear, sending shivers down her spine, before grabbing the remote and pressing a button, making the screen in front of them light up with a live video stream.

Her phone buzzed incessantly in her purse. She could feel it through the couch. Text after text streamed in, emails, phonecalls, voicemail notifications, she was bombarded.

A newscaster appeared on the screen, his face somber and serious. The camera panned to a photo of Samantha, a candid shot taken as she was leaving the restaurant, her face half-hidden by the American Flag plaster across her mouth.

"...the fallout from tonight's viral pictures of Samantha Steele leaving the presidential suite at Lucchese's, plastered with an adhesive HaremCo permanent gag emblazoned with an American Flag," the newscaster read the headline as Samantha and Dominic sat on the sofa, watching the unfolding drama. "That's right," the newscaster continued, "the popular alt-right firebrand seems to be doubling down on her Silent Majority trend, which started with mouth taping and has culminated in tonight's scene. Senator Blume's wife, Vonka was also seen with a patriotic plaster of some kind on her mouth at the same event. Veronica is our reporter covering the Senator Blume campaign. Any insights on this movement, these strange plasters, or the organization Blume was meeting with, Veronica?"

The camera cut to a well put-together woman in her late 30's standing in front of Lucchese's Italian Restaurant. She wore a beige blazer with shoulder pads over a pencil skirt, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. She smiled tightly and confidently, addressing the camera head-on. Her bright blue eyes sparkled in the evening light. "Well, Tim, this movement has been gaining traction on social media since last week, when Ms. Steele shared a photo of herself gagged with tape, then proceeded to gag herself at a public book signing the next day. Now, we've learned that a shady new company, branding itself as a traditionalist lifestyle brand, has apparently sold adhesive gags that attach permanently to the skin unless a certain solvent is applied by authorized individuals, like a woman's spouse or male guardian. Although it hasn't been confirmed by either party yet, the items Ms. Steele, Mrs. Blume, and several unidentified women were handing out as they exited the restaurant appear to match that description. There is a large crowd gathered behind us at the entrance, chanting anti- and pro-gag slogans. As you can see," said Veronica, gesturing to the group of people behind her, "this is getting ugly. We'll have more updates as this story progresses."

As Samantha stared at the television, she saw the chaos unfold as dozens of angry and disgusted people surrounded the restaurant, yelling and chanting. They held signs and banners, and their faces were contorted with anger and fear. The protesters waved placards, calling for an end to the 'slavery of women,' and others held signs proclaiming that gags and bondage were 'un-American.' But among the sea of protestors, Samantha saw something else — a handful of women, all wearing adhesive gags identical to hers, walking among the crowd, calmly and quietly distributing free HaremCo 'Permanent Gag-Seal USA Edition' samples to the shocked protestors, accompanied by stern-looking men with their arms crossed.

A blonde woman approached one of the protestors, and gently pressed a HaremCo adhesive gag plaster into her hand. The protester looked confused and terrified at first, staring at the object in her palm. The blonde woman simply nodded, and gave her a reassuring smile, before disappearing into the crowd. Other female HaremCo employees were doing the same, giving away the plasters, as if they were simply free samples of candy or perfume. The juxtaposition of the peaceful, almost gentle distribution of the adhesive gags against the chaos and anger of the protestors was surreal, and Samantha felt a mix of terror and relief.

"Huh huh huh," chuckled Dominic, grinning at Samantha. "Now THAT'S a publicity stunt! So far so good, babe." Dominic picked up her phone from her purse and handed it to her. "Why don't you reply to your fans. It's time for you to confirm your partnership with HaremCo publicly. Let them know you'll be posting regular updates throughout your orientation training."

Samantha rolled her eyes, letting out a sigh, and began typing out her tweet, "Just had dinner with Senator Blume and a Fortune 100 CEO! Shows where keeping her mouth shut can get a girl! These patriotic plasters are permaseals, btw, and they're made by HaremCo, a company I'm proud to be partnering with! Snag those plasters before they sell out and show those feminists and cucks on the left that a man speaks for your household!"

She sent the post, then started another, "I'm excited to announce I'll be receiving training at HaremCo's Hollywood facility for the next two weeks as part of my partnership with this revolutionary company. Be sure to follow my posts for updates on my progress as I continue to show these prudish liberals how sexy a traditional feminine role can be. And yes, that means more pics of me rocking sexy gags like the HaremCo permanent adhesive seals!"

Her phone buzzed and buzzed. She didn't know how to react. She was excited but also overwhelmed and confused. She looked at Dominic, her eyes wide.

"Look, babe, you're a star. A celebrity," he grinned. "I knew this was a good idea. People love to see you gagged."

Samantha's cheeks flushed red, and she laughed nervously. She couldn't deny that she loved the attention, but she was also conflicted about how it was affecting her career. People saw her as a whore, as a bimbo, a subservient airhead. That was sexy, she guessed, but could she ever be taken seriously again?

Just then, her phone rang. Samantha looked at the screen and her stomach dropped. It was Bryan, her ex-boyfriend, calling. She hadn't spoken to him in over a year, not since their breakup fight. Maybe he'd seen her photos, maybe he'd read her posts. Maybe he thought she was crazy. Maybe he thought she was an embarrassment.

"Mmm? Mmmm-mm?" Samantha murmured, pointing at her gag, begging Dominic to remove the permaseal. Dominic picked up her phone and swiped to accept the call, a grin spreading across his face. "Hello?" said a familiar voice, a voice that sent a wave of nostalgia and regret washing over Samantha. "Samantha?"

"Mmm, hmmm, mmmm," she tried, pointing at her phone, desperate to speak with her ex, but her words were nothing more than a muffled moan, incoherent and meaningless. "Sam? Are you alright?" Bryan's voice was laced with worry and confusion. "What's going on?"

"Hey Bryan, this is Dominic. I'm Sam's guardian. I'll be speaking on her behalf. Can I help you?" he said, a smug smirk spreading across his face. Samantha felt a surge of embarrassment, humiliation, and anger wash over her. How could he answer her call, speak for her as if she were a child or an object? How dare he treat her like a piece of property, a thing to be controlled and dominated?

But then, a strange feeling of relief and excitement washed over her. It was exhilarating, being helpless and vulnerable in front of her ex, knowing that she was completely at the mercy of Dominic, that she couldn't protest or fight back. It was thrilling, to be in a state of utter submission, to be completely at the whim and command of another man. Samantha could feel her heart pounding and her face flushed, and she knew that she was aroused and turned on.

"Guardian? What the hell are you talking about?" Bryan's voice was laced with confusion and frustration, "Where is Sam? I want to talk to her."

"I'm afraid that's not going to happen. You see, I'm Ms. Steele's guardian. She's currently in my custody. She consensually agreed to the terms of this guardianship, I can assure you, and what's more, she's enjoying being treated properly as a woman. However, I'm not allowing her to speak at the moment, as is my right."

"This has gone far enough," said Bryan, his voice rising. "What's wrong with you, Sam? What are you thinking? You can't do this to yourself! You're a successful woman with a career, not some kind of submissive bimbo."

Dominic glanced at Sam with a smug smirk on his face. She felt her heart drop as he continued, "Sam, if you're there, if you can hear me, you need to snap out of it. This is insane."

Samantha felt a rush as she realized Bryan still cared for her, that he was trying to reach out and rescue her. She had thought he hated her, but the thought of her helplessly giving herself to a man must be driving him crazy. He was probably sick with jealousy. The thought of it excited her, making her heart race. But it also scared her. What did she want? Did she want to be with Dominic and submit to him, or did she want to go back to being a strong, independent woman? It was a battle between her desires and her morals.

Samantha couldn't believe it was happening. Bryan, the guy she had thought she loved, was calling her to tell her that he still cared. It was like something out of a movie. But as she looked at herself, bound and gagged, with a strange man in the room, she wondered what she really wanted. Did she want to be with Dominic, or did she want to go back to her old life with Bryan? The answer wasn't as clear as she thought it would be.

"Mmmph, hmmm, mmmm..." Samantha murmured through her gagged lips and gestured to Dominic, pointing to the camera. Her voice was muffled, and her words were incoherent, but the meaning was clear. She wanted Bryan to see her.

Dominic nodded, a grin spreading across his face. He turned on the video, and Samantha's ex appeared on the screen. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide with shock.

"Sam, is that really you?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Mmmm-hmmm!" Samantha nodded, a small smile spreading across her lips beneath her gag. She knew how she must look to Bryan, her face half-covered in red, white, and blue stars and stripes. Her lips sealed shut. Her mouth silenced.

"What are you doing? Why are you letting him do this to you?" he demanded, his voice shaking with anger and fear.

"This is how you like to be treated, isn't it, Ms. Steele?" asked Dominic.

"Mm-hm! Mm-hmm!" nodded Samantha, grinning cutely as Bryan's face turned red on the camera's screen.

"She wants to be submissive and obedient, Bryan. It's what women like her want, to be controlled and used by men." said Dominic.

"You can't do this to her," Bryan insisted.

Dominic chuckled, "But we can, and we will. It's all consensual, and she's loving it." He reached over and caressed Samantha's cheek, making her whimper and close her eyes in pleasure. "I think we're done here," said Dominic, hanging up on Bryan without another word.

Samantha felt a rush of guilt and shame as she watched the call end, and Bryan's face disappear from the screen. But it was quickly replaced with a sense of excitement and arousal as she looked at Dominic, his powerful, dominant figure standing over her.

Meekly, Samantha slid over to Dominic until her body was flush with his. She looked into his eyes, self-conscious of her silence and the latex plastered across her mouth. She'd been gagged for hours now, with only a short break to eat her dinner at the restaurant. Maybe he'd take the gag off so she could kiss him. Maybe if she offered to give him head, he'd finally stop teasing her and fuck her like she so desperately wanted him to.

Dominic smiled down at Samantha's gagged face and said, "You look like you want to say something, Samantha. Your frustration is really quite adorable." His voice was calm and composed, his words smooth and calculated.

Samantha pouted at him, trying to look as innocent as possible, then put her fingers to her gagged lips, gesturing to the plaster that obstructed her helpless mouth. She slid off the couch and onto her knees, then, placing her hands on Dominic's thighs, she slowly brought her face towards his crotch. Surely he couldn't refuse this offer, could he? She rubbed her nose against the bulge of his cock through his pants, looking up at him with pleading eyes, and moaning in need as best as she could with her lips sealed shut. "Hmmmm. Hm hmmm?" she pleaded.

Dominic's expression hardened, and he pushed Samantha's head away. He was clearly unamused, and the look of rejection on her face made his cock throb, but he was committed to his decision. He would not be seduced into breaking his rules, no matter how much he desired her. He looked at her, his eyes filled with determination, and spoke, his voice stern, "No, not yet. Not until I'm satisfied with your submission, and your obedience to me. You have to prove yourself, prove that you are truly devoted to me, that you are worthy of my attention. You'll have to convince me you're worthy of my guardianship, and marry me in accordance with the Male Guardianship Act, if you want my love. I don't just fuck every slavegirl that begs for my cock."

Samantha was taken aback. She couldn't believe that Dominic had rejected her so bluntly, and that he was demanding marriage. She looked at him in disbelief and shock, and her eyes widened in surprise. "Hmm?" she asked, her voice trembling, her brow furrowed.

"Yes," Dominic said, nodding his head slowly. He looked at Samantha with a stern, but caring gaze, "You're a beautiful girl, Samantha. And I know you have the potential to be a great sub. But you're just a slave-in-training to me, the property of HaremCo and my responsibility to educate. I'm sure you'll have plenty of opportunities for sexual exploration while you're in training, but don't expect professional masters like me to be easily impressed. Do you have any idea how many beautiful women I am in command of on a daily basis? You've got a long way to go if you really want to be mine."

Samantha's eyes welled with tears. She couldn't believe what was happening, and her chest heaved as a wave of emotion washed over her. But the worst part of it was, her pussy was still wet, and she felt the same desire to serve and obey. It wasn't fair! She felt like a slut for being turned on in this situation. She looked up at Dominic, and he smiled back.

"Since you're so needy and can't help but to think with your pussy, I'll have to lock that thing up," he smirked, then he stood up and walked to the closet.

Samantha watched as Dominic retrieved the chastity gear from his closet and laid it on the bed. The chastity gear was made of metal and looked very sturdy and well-made, the chastity belt and the chastity bra were made to enclose and protect her most sensitive and vulnerable areas, and the nipple clamps were designed to provide stimulation and sensation. It was all very sleek, stylish and high-tech. The lock and the control unit were also high-tech and modern-looking.

"Here, put this in your pussy and these on your nipples," said Dominic, handing Samantha a vibroshock egg like the one she'd used at the HaremCo spa earlier, along with a pair of small nipple clamps. She obeyed, sliding the vibe up into her dripping wet pussy, and slipping her hardened nipples between the prongs of the tiny clamps.

Dominic grinned at her, watching as she positioned the vibe in her wet cunt, then snapped the nipple clamps in place, "I love how eager you are, Sam," he chuckled. He picked up the chastity belt from the bed and handed it to her. She held it in front of her and inspected it.

The metal belt was made of a shiny steel and had a sleek, high-tech look to it. It had an adjustable waistband and a locking mechanism on the front that secured it in place. It had a solid steel shield that covered her pussy and her ass, preventing access to her genitals and preventing her from pleasuring herself. The shield also had small vents to allow for airflow and to prevent discomfort. There was a small hole near the crotch and over the anus, allowing her to use the bathroom, if uncomfortably. It had a sleek, modern design and was designed to be both secure and discreet. The belt was made of a shiny silver metal, with smooth lines and a high-tech look that was both sleek and strong.

She whimpered as the belt snapped shut and automatically locked, followed by the cool metal cups of the chastity bra sliding over her breasts and snugly compressing her chest as it closed.

Samantha felt the belt tighten and lock around her, the steel encasing her body, making it impossible for her to touch her own sensitive areas. She whimpered softly as she felt her clit and labia press firmly against the inside of the shield, the cold metal unyielding and immovable. The feeling of helplessness was intoxicating, and her pussy was throbbing with need.

"Mmmmm..." Samantha groaned as Dominic pressed a button on his phone, causing the egg inside her and the clamps on her nipples to start gently buzzing. It was a constant stimulation, just enough to distract her and keep her horny without going anywhere. Samantha squirmed and uselessly ran her hands over her metal bra cups and the steel shield over her pussy, unable to stop the sensation or add to it.

"Good girl," he praised, looking at Samantha with an approving smile. "Now that I know you're sex-motivated, it's time to put you to work. The cleaning supplies are in the hallway closet, or under the kitchen sink. Take your time and get the whole place spotless. I'll leave your vibrators on a low setting to keep you motivated. If you've done a good job by the time you report back to me, I'll allow you to orgasm. If I'm not impressed with your work, I'll leave the vibes on low all night, and I'll make you sleep gagged. Understood?"

"Hmmm! Hmmmm," Samantha moaned, her face flushing red with need. The thought of having to complete chores while in her horny state made her tremble, and she wasn't sure how she would be able to focus with the vibrating sensations coursing through her. She was desperate to please him, desperate for his touch and approval. The thought of his praise, his pleasure, and her own orgasm were all she needed to push her forward. She needed to please him and make him proud.

Dominic smiled and gave Samantha a gentle pat on the backside. She moaned, then turned to retrieve a broom, a mop, some glass cleaner, a bucket and some soap from the closet.

Samantha's heart raced as she got to work. The vibrator was still inside of her, and she felt it buzzing against her sensitive inner walls, sending shivers of pleasure throughout her body. She started with the living room, carefully sweeping and dusting every surface. The vibrator's constant buzzing was distracting, and she had to concentrate hard to focus on the task at hand. She could feel the vibrations deep inside her, building and building, but never quite enough to send her over the edge.

The metal belt she wore was a reminder of Dominic's dominance, and the constant stimulation only heightened her feelings of submissiveness and arousal. As she bent down to clean a spot on the floor, she could feel the cool metal of the chastity belt pressing against her skin. It was a strange and slightly uncomfortable sensation, but it was also incredibly arousing, knowing that she was completely under his control, and that she could not pleasure herself without his permission.

The vibrating egg continued to buzz inside her, making it almost impossible for Samantha to focus. She felt her pussy grow wet and hot with every move she made, and her nipples hard and sensitive from the clamps. Her breathing was shallow, and she could hear herself panting as she worked.

Dominic, sitting on the couch, grinned as Samantha worked, admiring her dedication to the tasks he had set for her, even as her body quivered and squirmed with pleasure. Samantha could feel his gaze on her, and she blushed deeply, knowing that he was enjoying watching her struggle to stay focused while in such an aroused state.

She continued to clean, and as the minutes turned to hours, her need for release only grew. Her mind was clouded with thoughts of Dominic and his control over her, and she could hardly think straight. The vibrations continued to course through her, making her pussy ache with desire. She knew that if she wanted any sort of release, she had to please Dominic.

She worked tirelessly, making sure every surface was spotless and clean. When she was finished, Samantha turned to face Dominic and stood with her head down, waiting for him to inspect her work. Dominic took a long look around the house, checking every corner and surface to make sure that she had cleaned everything thoroughly. Finally, he turned back to Samantha with a satisfied smirk.

"You did well," he said, patting Samantha's ass, sending another wave of pleasure through her body. She could feel the vibrator still inside her, the vibrations still constant and unrelenting.

"Now, for your next task, I need you to rub my feet," he instructed, sitting down on the couch. "Get on your knees and show me how good you are at following orders." Samantha obediently sank to her knees and began rubbing Dominic's feet. She could feel the rough skin on her hands as she massaged them, the vibrator in her pussy and the clamps on her nipples sending constant shocks of pleasure through her. Dominic let out a content sigh as he leaned back, enjoying the sensation.

"Very good," he said, a pleased expression on his face. "Now, massage my shoulders." Samantha moved behind him and started to rub his shoulders, feeling the tension and stress melting away. She could smell the musk of his sweat and the hint of cologne, a scent that was distinctly male and powerful. The vibrations from the vibe inside her and the clamps on her nipples were becoming unbearable, and she had to fight the urge to grind her hips. She wanted to cum so badly, but she knew that she couldn't, not with the belt still locked tight around her.

"Very nice," Dominic murmured, his voice low and relaxed. "I can tell you're really trying your best, despite the circumstances." He chuckled, a wicked gleam in his eye as he watched Samantha struggle with her need for release.

Samantha flushed a deep red, her body on fire as she continued to massage his shoulders. The vibrations were still constant, and she could feel her pussy growing hotter and wetter with every passing second. She tried to focus on her work, but she couldn't shake off the thoughts of him and the control he had over her. She had been reduced to nothing more than a servant, almost mindless in her libido-induced stupor. She could barely think straight, and her mind was fixated entirely on Dominic. All she could do was obey his every whim and command.

Dominic noticed the look in Samantha's eyes and smiled, satisfied. "You're really quite lovely, Samantha," he purred, reaching out to cup her chin in his hand. "And obedient too. I like that." He traced a finger along her jawline and down her neck, his touch feather-light.

Samantha felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she looked away, but Dominic just chuckled, "You're so much nicer like this, aren't you? You're known across the country as a stuck-up, acid-tongued bitch, but here you are: docile, agreeable, quiet. I wonder how your fans and readers would feel about this new you, if you showed them this side of yourself?"

She didn't respond, her eyes glued to the floor. Dominic's hand slid down her neck, his fingers tracing a path over the smooth, warm skin of her shoulder. His touch was electric, sending shivers down her spine as she tried to focus on his words.

"Do you want to cum for me, Sam?" he asked, his voice low and seductive. "I bet you do, don't you?"

Samantha nodded, her eyes still glued to the floor. Her body was trembling with need, her clit and nipples throbbing from the unrelenting stimulation of the vibroshock egg and the vibrating nipple clamps.

"Then show me how much you want it, slut," he demanded, his tone stern but playful, a smirk playing on his lips. "Beg me for it. Get on your knees and beg for my permission."

Samantha felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment as she sank to her knees. The cool floor felt strange on her knees as they pressed into it, but the sensation was quickly forgotten as the constant, teasing vibrations of the vibe and the clamps continued.

She looked up at Dominic, her face red and her body quivering. She had been reduced to a begging, obedient whore, and she couldn't believe it.

"Mmmmmm. Hm hmmm. Hmmm, hmm," she moaned through her gagged lips, her voice muffled, but the desperation was still evident in the sound of it. She could feel the pressure of the vibrator and clamps on her clit and nipples, and it was making her insane with need.

"Hm hmmmm, mmmmm," Samantha whined, her eyes wide with desire. "Hmm hmmmm," she repeated, her voice cracking as she struggled to communicate her desperation to him.

"Mm hmm," she added, her eyes filled with a mix of embarrassment, lust, and submission.

Dominic grinned as he looked down at her, enjoying the sight of her on her knees, pleading for release. "I think I understand what you want," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the remote for the vibe and clamps. With a wicked grin, he turned the settings up, causing the vibe inside Samantha to begin to pulse with a deep, throbbing rhythm. The clamps on her nipples began to buzz harder, the vibrations increasing and intensifying. Samantha gasped, her eyes rolling back as she arched her back in pleasure. Her body trembled as she rode the waves of sensation, her need for release building and building until it felt like it would explode.

"Come on, Sam, cum for me," Dominic commanded, his voice firm and commanding.

Samantha moaned and whimpered, her hips rocking and her head thrashing as the vibe inside her and the clamps on her nipples pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Her entire body was alive with pleasure, her clit and nipples pulsing in time with the vibrations. Finally, with a scream that was muffled by her gag, Samantha came hard, her pussy clenching around the egg and her body shaking with the force of her climax. Her moans and whimpers were loud and desperate, and she could feel Dominic's eyes on her, watching her every move. As the orgasm faded, Samantha collapsed to the ground, her body limp and spent. She lay there, panting and exhausted, her body still tingling with pleasure. She couldn't remember the last time she had cum that hard.

Samantha lay there, panting, as the last waves of pleasure subsided. Her body was spent, and she felt a deep satisfaction settle over her. But as the haze of her climax cleared, she realized the vibe and the clamps were still buzzing, the sensations still constant and teasing.

"Did you think we were done?" Dominic asked, a smirk playing on his lips. He looked at her, his gaze intense, and Samantha could feel the weight of his dominance. She was completely under his control, and she knew it.

"I think we can get another one out of you," he murmured, reaching out to stroke her hair. "Now straddle my leg and show me how you move."

Samantha obeyed, her body moving on autopilot. She swung her leg over Dominic's, her body trembling with need. The feel of his hard, muscled thigh between her legs sent a shock of pleasure through her, and she moaned softly.

"Move," he commanded, his voice low and firm.

Samantha obeyed, her hips grinding against his leg, seeking the pressure she needed. She couldn't feel anything through the metal plate over her pussy, and she felt silly and frustrated.

"You want me to fuck you, don't you, slut? You'd love for me to take your pussy right now, but you're locked in this belt," he taunted, "and I'm not about to unlock you. Not yet. You haven't proven to me that you're worth my time."

"Hm! Hmm! Hmmmmm!" she whined through her gagged mouth, her hips undulating and grinding against Dominic's leg, desperate for release. He chuckled and reached out to grab her hair, pulling her head back to look him in the eye.

"Show me what an obedient woman you can be, Sam. Show me you can follow my orders, that you'll submit to my every whim. Show me you can be a good wife, and I'll give you what you need." he murmured.

Samantha let out a desperate, frustrated whimper, her body trembling as she ground against Dominic's leg. She was desperate to please him, desperate to cum. It was humiliating, begging through gagged lips and grinding with a locked-down pussy against a man who wouldn't even fuck her properly. She felt so stupid, but the sensation of the vibrator buzzing inside her and the nipple clamps on her nipples was overwhelming her. It was like being trapped in a never-ending cycle of pleasure and frustration. She was so close to climax, but it was just out of reach.

Dominic smirked as he watched Samantha grind against him. "Good girl, Samantha. Keep going," he commanded, his voice deep and dominant. Samantha obeyed, her body writhing as she desperately tried to find release. But the metal plate that blocked her pussy was impenetrable, and she couldn't find the pressure she needed. Dominic watched her struggle, amused and turned on by the sight. He knew she was desperate and needy, and he wanted her to beg for his attention, for his cock.

"Now get on your knees, press your face into the floor, and wiggle your ass for me." he said, "And make sure your hands stay firmly on the ground. I don't want to see them anywhere else." Samantha was panting with need, the vibrator and clamps still buzzing inside of her. She was desperate for any kind of relief, and she was willing to do whatever Dominic commanded. She sank to her hands and knees on the carpet in front of him, feeling humiliated but excited at the same time. She knew that he was watching her every move, judging her obedience and willingness to please him. She felt her pussy clench at the thought of being at his mercy, and the vibrations only heightened her arousal.

With a groan of frustration and humiliation, Samantha pressed her nose into the floor, the rough texture scraping against her delicate skin. She arched her back, lifting her ass into the air and presenting herself to him, feeling like a common whore. She wiggled her butt back and forth, trying to entice him. She knew she must look ridiculous, her body shaking with need, and her pussy throbbing for attention, but she didn't care. All she cared about was pleasing him, and getting what she wanted.

"Hmmm. Hmmm. Hmmm," Samantha whimpered and moaned, her ass wiggling desperately, trying to catch his eye.

"Such an obedient little bitch," Dominic said with a chuckle, watching as she gyrated her hips in front of him. "I love seeing you like this. So desperate, so needy." He reached down to cup her ass with one hand, giving it a light slap, before grabbing the remote for the vibe and clamps and turning it up. The buzzing in her pussy and on her nipples grew louder, and more intense, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She could feel her nipples stiffening even further, and the pressure building in her pussy.

Samantha felt his eyes on her, burning into her skin as she continued to wiggle her butt. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, but the need in her core overrode any embarrassment. She wanted him, needed him to touch her, to take her and use her as he pleased.

"Hmmm! Hmmmmm. Hmmmm!" she whined, desperate to find relief. She articulated wordlessly, desperate to convey her emotions through a muffled tone of voice, hoping that he would take mercy on her. Dominic chuckled, clearly amused by her attempts to communicate. He enjoyed seeing her squirm and beg for his attention, knowing that he held all the power.

He circled her like a predator, taking in her desperate state. The vibe inside her and the nipple clamps buzzed, driving her wild. Her ass was high in the air, her face pressed against the ground, her hands flat against the carpet.

She could feel the carpet burn against the skin of her cheek and the strain of her back as she arched and writhed. The sound of her muffled voice filled the room, her body begging for release. She could feel his gaze on her, admiring the curve of her back and the roundness of her ass.

"Very good, Samantha. If you keep behaving like this, I'm sure you'll make a wonderful wife one day. Wouldn't you like that? To make love to your husband, to kiss him, to sleep in his bed?"

"Mmmm-hmmm! MMMM-HMMMM!" Samantha groaned. She wished she were kissing Dominic, sucking him off, feeling him inside her, instead of being locked in chastity, begging through glued lips for her vibrator to be turned up. It was humiliating, but she was too desperate for his approval, and to finally climax, that she didn't care. She would do anything he asked of her, and would continue to until he allowed her the relief she craved.

"Good girl," Dominic murmured, and he reached into his pocket to pull out the remote control. He turned the vibe and the clamps up again, and Samantha screamed, her hips bucking wildly as the increased sensation drove her to the edge of madness.

"Mm! Hmm! Hmmmmm!"

Dominic's fingers traced the lines of her body, from the small of her back, up the curve of her spine, to the nape of her neck, where he grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. He turned up the vibrator to full blast, and she let out a muffled scream.

"Oh yes, Samantha," Dominic murmured. "You're so desperate, so needy. It's like you're an animal in heat."

His hand came down on her ass with a sharp slap, and she yelped in pain. "You'll have to be trained and tamed," he told her. "I won't allow my wife to behave like a common whore."

He spanked her again, harder this time, and she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut. The vibrator inside her and the clamps on her nipples continued to buzz, and she could feel the pleasure building up inside her. She wanted to cum, needed to cum so badly, but he wouldn't let her, wouldn't let her reach the release she so desperately desired.

"You'll have to learn to obey me," Dominic said. "To do as you're told. To be submissive and obedient." Samantha groaned as he continued to spank her, each strike harder than the last. She could feel her ass stinging, her cheeks reddening, but she didn't care. All she cared about was cumming, and he was the only one who could give her what she wanted.

"I'll take good care of you, Samantha," Dominic continued. "I'll train you, mold you into the perfect wife. But first, you must submit to me fully. You must become completely mine."

"Mm-hmmmm. MMM-hmmmmm." she whimpered, desperate for release. Her body was on fire, her mind a haze of lust. She would do anything, say anything, just to feel him inside her, to feel his hands on her body, his lips against hers.

"Good girl," Dominic murmured. "now cum for me." With that, he reached down and pressed a button on the remote, and the vibe inside her and the clamps on her nipples began to buzz at a rapid pace, driving her over the edge of ecstasy.

She came with a muffled scream, her hips bucking wildly as she rode the waves of pleasure. Her pussy clenched around the vibe, her nipples hardening even further, and the world around her seemed to disappear in a blur of pleasure. As she came down from her high, she could hear Dominic chuckling softly.

"You did well, Samantha. Very well indeed. You've proven to me that you can be obedient and submissive. But we're not done yet. We have much work to do before you'll be ready to be a wife. I have big plans for you, my dear. Big plans indeed."

Dominic reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube of HaremCo adhesive solvent, applying some to a cloth and gently removing Samantha's gag. Her lips felt raw and swollen as he carefully wiped them, the solvent tingling on her sensitive skin.

As the adhesive loosened, Dominic gently peeled away the red, white, and blue plaster, leaving behind a sticky residue that he wiped away with a soft cloth.

Samantha's mouth opened and closed slowly as she stretched her stiff and aching jaw muscles, relieved to finally have her mouth free again. Her tongue felt thick and dry, and she could feel the corners of her mouth were still sticky with dried glue.

As the last bit of the adhesive came away, Samantha licked her lips, savoring the freedom to move her mouth and speak again. Dominic looked down at her with a smirk on his face, and she knew that her humiliation and subjugation was not over yet.

"Thank you, Master," Samantha breathed, her voice a hoarse whisper. "Thank you for allowing me to speak." She knew that her submission and gratitude were only fueling Dominic's dominant desires, but she didn't care. In that moment, all she could feel was an overwhelming need to please him, to obey his every command, and to be rewarded with his approval.

"I think it's time to put you away for the night," he said. "Your training will resume tomorrow." Dominic walked over to a small metal cage at the foot of the bed, unlocking it with a key from his pocket. He opened the door and gestured for Samantha to crawl inside.

She crawled inside the cage obediently, her body still aching with need. She watched as he closed the door, the lock clicking shut with a finality that sent a shiver down her spine.

Dominic smiled as he watched Samantha crawl inside the cage. The metal bars enclosed around her, trapping her inside the small space, and she felt her heart racing. The cage was small, just large enough for her to curl up in, and she felt the cold metal bars against her skin. It was humiliating to be treated like an animal, but she was exhausted, and the kennel was lined with this faux fur bedding and a plush, soft pillow.

"Good girl, Ms. Steele," he praised. "Sleep tight. We have a lot of training ahead of us."

Samantha watched as Dominic dimmed the lights, casting the room in a soft, warm glow. As she settled down onto the soft bedding, her heart was racing with excitement and anticipation. She knew that her journey into a life of subjugation was only beginning, and she was ready to embrace it.