Ch.6
First Day of Training pt.2: Rented Out
"And how shall we prepare these lovely women for you, Mr. Anderson?" called out Dominic, his voice loud and clear, like the voice of an announcer at a sporting event. He had the crowd enthralled.
"You don't happen to have those dollsuits you sell at the Dollhouse available at the club by any chance, do you?" asked Clay with a wicked grin on his face.
Samantha gulped, remembering the Marilyn Monroe mask she'd had to wear, the Alice dollsuit Carol had worn, and that poor woman at the Dollhouse, Mittens, who'd been locked in a kitty gimp suit and slept in a kennel. Abby looked confused, which was good: she didn't know how extreme what was being proposed really was.
"I'm afraid not," said Dominic, "those suits are mostly custom-made, and we haven't exposed these new girls to that sort of thing at this stage. But, we do have an assortment of latex suits and hoods to choose from. Perhaps something transparent?"
"Damn. Yeah, if you have some transparent latex catsuits, let's put Sammie here in one of those, with a transparent hood to match. Make sure it's got an open mouth, or better yet a mouth zipper. I want everyone to still recognize that I've got THE Samantha Steele as my plaything. This other one, Abby, let's dress in all black latex. Give her a muzzle, something that'll plug her mouth up. Finger control mitts for both of them, and one more thing," he paused and grinned, "stuff Samantha's mouth with a pair of panties before you zip that hood up."
"Of course," said Nicole, "and I'm sure you've read up on our policy about our new recruits? Nothing too explicit, nothing violent or permanent. These are girls in orientation. We want them to come out of this better off than they came in, and it's important for us to make a good first impression."
"Of course, ma'am," said Clay, giving Nicole a mocking salute, and winking. "Don't you worry, I'm a good boy, and I'm going to make a very good impression on Ms. Steele. I've always been a fan." He gave Samantha a hungry smile, his eyes taking in her body as he licked his lips, and she felt a rush of blood in her cheeks. This man was obviously used to getting his way, and she wasn't sure what his plans were for her. But she felt certain he would try something extreme, and the thought frightened her, but it also thrilled her. Her pussy tingled, and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling her latex-clad lips and slit slide against her skin.
The two slavegirls went to work on Samantha and Abby, dressing Abby first. Nicole brought out a long latex catsuit in black, and Carol pulled the suit onto the woman, her body disappearing inside the black rubber as the suit encased her arms, legs, torso, and then head in a snug latex skin. The suit was shiny, smooth and tight, like a new coat of paint, and her figure looked beautiful, the latex highlighting every curve, making her seem even more feminine than she'd looked before. Samantha watched as Nicole worked at Abby's permaseal with a tube of solvent, then turned to Carol, who sidled up to her and began dissolving the adhesive on her own gag.
When Abby's plaster fell away and her mouthplug fell from her lips with a wet thud, she managed to croak out a pitiful, "Thank you, Samantha, thank you so much, tha- uff!" before Nicole drew the hood over her face. It had a hole for her mouth and two for her eyes but the moment it settled into place, Nicole plunged a thick rubber plug into her mouth, attached to a heavy leather muzzle that she strapped all around her head. It was a leather harness, and the straps passed under her jaw and over the top of her head. The leather was reinforced with metal, and buckled tightly to keep the thick plug firmly wedged in Abby's mouth. The girl was forced to breathe through her nose, her mouth blocked, filled completely. She began to sniffle, tears streaming from her eyes, but Samantha could not comfort her as her own permaseal fell away and her mouth opened, her tongue reaching for air. Her own mouthplug landed on the floor beside Abby's, and then Carol pulled a long latex catsuit, a sheer and totally transparent material, almost like a giant full-body condom, from the wardrobe and approached Samantha. She lifted one leg, and Carol slipped it into the leg hole, then the other, then the latex slid up her hips, covering her waist, her breasts, then her arms, and finally, her head. She felt her head pass through the hole in the suit, then Carol lowered a matching clear latex hood over her head. A wide zipper hung open around her mouth, and the rest of the latex stretched tightly across her face.
"Open wide, Ms. Steele," cooed Carol, as she drew a pair of white panties from the wardrobe. They were clean and white, the kind a conservative, prudish woman would wear. They were not Samantha's. Carol pushed the white cotton fabric into her mouth, forcing Samantha to chew the soft panties, stuffing them into every gap in her teeth until the fabric was balled up in her mouth, her lips bulging. Samantha struggled to adjust her teeth to the fabric, and Carol quickly pulled the zipper closed around her mouth, sealing her in the tight hood. She heard a small lock click into place behind her neck.
"There we go," said Carol as she tugged on Samantha's zipper and pulled at her neck. "A perfect fit, wouldn't you say? Let's get you girls into some finger control mitts so you aren't tempted to undo your restraints, then you can meet your master. You two are doing great, I'm proud of you both!" Samantha was impressed with how much Carol seemed to be enjoying herself. The woman seemed positively chipper and cheerful, her voice bright and her manner confident. Was it an act, or had HaremCo training really been this good to her?
The slavegirls tugged a set of tight leather mitts onto Samantha and Abby, sealing their fists in a sphere of hard leather, rendering their fingers useless. There was no way for them to undo their bondage, and they were totally helpless even without their wrists bound. They were escorted down the steps of the catwalk, where the crowd applauded and the men stared, some with desire, some with curiosity. Samantha's cheeks were on fire, she could feel them glowing hot with embarrassment. Her nipples stood erect beneath two layers of latex, the first skintone and the one above perfectly clear. She looked shiny and rubbery, but also stark naked. It was a very vulnerable feeling, almost worse than being naked in front of strangers. She was conscious of the men who stared at her pussy and her breasts, her body on full display, her realistic molded nipples and pussy unable to hide, encased and sealed in a second layer of transparent rubber. She was also very aware that her mouth was stuffed and gagged, the panties making it difficult to breathe. Her nostrils were working hard as she struggled to pull air in and push it out, and she was getting light-headed, which made her even more afraid. What if she fainted?
Samantha was pushed to her knees next to the young activist, while Carol took Abby by the hand and knelt on her other side, presenting Abby to him.
"MMPHH!" protested Samantha as she was pushed to her knees. Her knees landed with a thunk on the hard floor, and she whimpered at the pain. She looked up at the man, who looked down at her with a smile.
"Hey, Sammy, you're even hotter up close," he said, reaching out a hand and tracing his fingers down her jaw. Samantha shivered at his touch, her body suddenly very sensitive to any sensation. "And I like you better on your knees. You look good there, don't you think?"
Samantha's mouth was sealed, and she could only respond with a grunt, "MMMPH!" she said, not sure whether to be indignant or to thank him for the compliment. He was an arrogant asshole, and Samantha's natural reaction was to bristle at his smugness, but another part of her wanted to nod her head. She did look good in bondage. It felt liberating, and terrifying. The feeling of the latex on her skin, encasing her, and the way the men in the room were looking at her, the way it made her body tingle with arousal, she couldn't help but be turned on by it all. She felt a wave of humiliation pass over her. What kind of woman gets off on being humiliated in public?
Clay smiled at her and she could feel his eyes roving over her body, and he could tell she was feeling aroused. His eyes seemed to glow with an eager light. "I'm gonna have some fun with you. But not just yet. Let's go get you two a booth to play in." he tugged at Samantha's neck with the leash and she had to move her body forward on her knees, following his lead. She glanced back to see Abby being pulled along, crawling behind her. They followed him to a booth, where a waitress waited to serve him, her lips sealed with a red ballgag and her body dressed in a red rubber catsuit that hugged her curves. She took their order and left the booth, and Samantha watched as Clay began to stroke Abby's hair and cheek, his touch gentle. She didn't seem to know how to respond to him. He looked like a kind man, with a warm smile and friendly eyes. He looked at Abby, and Abby gazed up at him, as his hand slid down her neck, to her chest, and then his hand was between her latex-clad breasts, squeezing gently.
"You like that?" he asked Abby. Abby, her mouth sealed with a thick rubber plug in a muzzle, could only mumble and nod.
"MMM-hm-hmph!" she answered. The girl's eyes were big and wide and Samantha wasn't sure if she was afraid or aroused.
"You know, Sammy, I never thought I'd see the day you shut your mouth," Clay said, sneering in her direction, "silence looks good on you. But I'm not sure which gag will look best on you, so I ordered an assortment for you to try on from the waitress just now. Won't that be fun? You'll get to take so many different gagged selfies here! I'm sure you're excited, since posting pictures of yourself gagged is basically your whole career now. Do those panties stuffed in your mouth make you feel relevant, Samantha?" his voice was dripping with contempt, and his tone made her furious. He was mocking her, humiliating her, and making her feel worthless and objectified.
Samantha's face was a storm cloud as she grunted at him, "HMPHH! MMMMPHH!" and tried to look dignified, even on her knees, with a mouth stuffed full of cotton panties.
"What's wrong, Sam, cat got your tongue?" he chuckled at his own joke, then his attention turned back to Abby, his hand stroking her back, sliding over the shiny rubber catsuit, and his other hand fondled her breast through the latex, his fingers squeezing her nipple through the tight rubber.
"MMMMPH!" Abby grunted, and Samantha watched her face. It was frozen in black latex and leather save for her eyes, which winced in discomfort at Clay's pinching and prodding.
"Sorry if I'm being mean, Sammie, I just can't help but indulge myself when you're helplessly at my command. You know, I read your books when I was a teenager. Real formative stuff in the career of a young Republican activist. And when you posted those photos with your mouth taped up, I have to admit, I touched myself. Never thought I'd have you helplessly before me in the flesh. You should be flattered that a young up and comer like me has a thing for you." he reached over to Samantha and pinched her nipples hard between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing her breasts in his hands, her nipples poking through the transparent latex.
Samantha yelped and squealed through the panties stuffed in her mouth and her hood's zipper, "MMPH! HUMMPPHH!" and her eyes were full of rage as he toyed with her, but the sensation of being fondled, pinched, and groped by the man, and of being his helpless, obedient slave for the moment was arousing, she couldn't deny. She felt the familiar wetness in her rubber sheaths and her cheeks flushed red. Her mind was filled with confusion and shame, her thoughts scattered. Why did she have these feelings? Was this normal? Did other women like her also fantasize about men having power over her, using her body? She wanted to talk to Abby about how she felt, and to find out how the younger woman felt about it, but there was no chance for that here, and she wasn't sure Abby would understand. Abby seemed terrified. But Samantha felt strangely at peace, even though she also felt confused.
Clay stopped teasing the two women, and he reached for a glass of wine that the waitress had left for him. He sipped it slowly as he contemplated his slaves. Then the waitress returned and placed a tray on the table before him. It was covered in gags, rolls of tape, and items that Samantha was sure would be going in her mouth, like a large squishy stress ball and a wide yellow sponge.
"Now why don't we have a friendly little chat between colleagues, Sammy? I'm dying to know how you ended up in this situation. Do remember to address me as Master, and show me proper gratitude for allowing you to speak," Clay grinned and slowly pulled the zipper over Samantha's mouth open, the latex peeling back from her lips and allowing her to spit out the panties in her mouth. They flopped to the table, wet with her saliva, and Clay grimaced, but Samantha didn't care about the panties. She was free to speak, finally. She opened her mouth and gasped as she felt the air fill her lungs. Her jaw was aching from the panties and the zipper, her cheeks sore, and her mouth was dry.
"Thank you, Master, for allowing your slave to speak. I am very grateful," she said in a voice she hoped was submissive and obedient enough for him.
"Now tell me what brought you here," he said, his tone still dripping with disdain, "have you always secretly been a submissive slut behind closed doors, or did you see your relevance fading away and this is a last-ditch effort to sell with sex?"
Samantha flushed terribly, remembering her wine-drunk tape-gagged selfie that started this whole thing, and her desperate attempt to use a submissive tradwife image to get some social media attention. "It was an accident, master, I posted something in an attempt to get some social media attention, and it just exploded. HaremCo contacted me to partner on some promotional materials, and they invited me here. This is all pretty new to me, and I'm excited but also nervous abou- hey wait, wh-mmmph! Phhhbtb!" Samantha sputtered as Clay grabbed her by the jaw and shoved a soft, pliant rubber ball between her lips and deep into her mouth, roughly and suddenly, cutting her off mid-sentence. Frustration and anger bristled up within her and without thinking she blew and spit around the ball, instinctually trying to expel the invading mass, but the zipper snapped tightly shut, sealing her lips behind the stretchy wall of latex.
She groaned deeply, a complaint hot on her trapped tongue, and Clay chuckled with glee while Abby looked on, wide-eyed and sympathetic.
"Now THIS is the way to have political discourse with women. I really see the appeal of this male guardianship thing, it's going to kill in the white male demographic. But do you really think women will be as dumb as you and go along with it? Maybe if their husbands order them to vote red, they won't have a choice, huh? Ha!" Clay squished Samantha's latex-clad cheeks in his hand as he gently turned her face side to side, her mittened hands pawing uselessly at his hand as it gripped her face.
"Samantha," he said flatly and seriously, an icy chill suddenly in his voice, "are you trying to push my hand away? Are you fighting me, slave?"
"Mm-mmm!" she moaned through the squishy rubber in her mouth, shaking her head and dropping her hands.
"Good. You might be the big shot conservative activist who started the silent majority, but you're still just a silenced piece of property in the end. That's what you've signed up for, Sammy, and don't you dare forget it." Clay's tone was suddenly much less friendly and playful and more serious and stern. The idea of a powerful, well-known conservative woman being dominated by a younger, up-and-coming male conservative seemed to excite him. She wondered how many of her old friends and colleagues were thinking about her like this, and what kind of images of her they'd seen on the internet that were fueling their fantasies.
"Do you know how lucky you are to have my attentions, slave? How lucky you are I find you sexually appealing enough to buy your time, to dress you up nice, and to play with you like this? Just look at the feminist over there, that could be you," Clay nodded to a few tables down where Lisa was still cruelly zip-tied into a hogtie, but had now been blindfolded and heavily gagged with duct tape that nearly encased her whole face. She lay on her side and was being groped by the table of frat boys as she groaned and sobbed.
Samantha's eyebrows shot up and she realized she needed to show some gratitude or she might be treated much worse. She looked at Clay with her best puppy-dog eyes, nodding eagerly and placing her mittened hands together in supplication, as though begging not to be treated like Lisa. Abby sobbed softly one time, then took Samantha's lead and placed her mitts together while batting her eyes at Clay. A broad smile crept across his face.
"Good girls. That's what I like to see. Now I'm sorry I can't give you two the fucking you really deserve," he grabbed his crotch lewdly and Samantha would have rolled her eyes if not for fear of being punished, "Dominic says no explicit sex acts or extreme physical punishment on your first day. So you two are going to serve me as best you can with no penetration. Sorry ladies, maybe another time!" he cackled and stroked his visibly erect member through his slacks.
"Abby, get your sweet little gagged face in my lap and worship my cock with your face. Lots of little nuzzles and gag kisses, pronto." he ordered, pointing to his lap, and the girl shuffled onto her knees facing him on the booth, then lowered her face into his crotch, gently rubbing her muzzled mouth along his cock, miming a gentle fellatio and nuzzling her nose against him. She looked ridiculous, but also strangely hot to Samantha, her body draped over his lap as her mouth was sealed in the black latex muzzle, her eyes full of desire as she serviced her master.
Clay grabbed Samantha's leash and pulled her face inches away from his own. She grunted into the squishy ball that filled her mouth and stared wide-eyed as he began kissing and licking the latex and zipper sealing her lips.
"Mmmph…mm, mmm…" she swallowed her pride and her revulsion and began making fake sounds of enjoyment. She was still gagged and could barely move her lips, but she puckered them and kissed Clay back, trying to give him a show with her exaggerated grunts of enjoyment and her batting eyelashes. The feeling of being gagged and forced to endure this man kissing the seal on her lips was horrifying, yet she found herself acquiescing into a nearly dissociated state of acceptance. What could she do, if she wanted to resist? Her bondage only freaked her out more the more she resisted. And her skin was still tingling under her skinsuit, the warmth spreading over her body and into her through the orifice sheaths.
She remembered feeling similar when she'd been in sensory isolation at the Harem Salon, the same trancelike, mind-numbing euphoria. Was this why the lube in the skinsuits was medicated? Did it make her more compliant, more sedate…even more lustful? She knew she found Clay repugnant and would never normally suffer him to treat her this way, but part of her wanted to melt into him, to make him the focus of her whole attention. He was her Master, he was her everything, he held the keys to her bondage and she would be his until he released her. She had no say in the matter, and was amazed that she wasn't thinking about it.
"MMMMMMM-mmmmmph…" she groaned loudly into the rubber ball that filled her mouth, and she started at the noise. Was she really getting turned on? She couldn't believe it, and flushed with shame at her reaction to Clay's degrading treatment. He was a smug little twerp, new on the pundit scene and beneath her in professional status, but now she was melting into him like butter. It made no sense. She should be revolted, suffering, tormented, right?
She wanted to get her bearings, to have time to think. "Hmmmpph!" she whined into Clay's lips, as she pulled away from him. She was surprised she had enough willpower left to do that.
"Hey, I didn't tell you to stop, Sammy. Wait, what the fuck's going on over there?" Clay swiveled his head to look at the table where the frat boys had been tormenting the blue-haired feminist coed, Lisa. Lisa was shrieking wordlessly, her mouth still filled to the brim with the pumped-up inflatable gag. One of the young men was holding a stun gun and waving it in her face, cackling and pressing the button to show her the sparks the device made.
In three large, swift steps Dominic closed in on the man and jabbed him deftly in the throat, taking the stun gun from him and rounding on the rest of the group in a menacing fury.
"Every one of you, out. Now. You knew the rules, and you brought prohibited items into our facility. Your memberships will be revoked permanently, and I will see to it that you are blacklisted from ever being in the same room as one of our girls again. One word out of any of you and I swear to God I'll zap you unconscious with this. Go."
The young man who was holding the stun gun held his throat, unable to breathe, while the rest of the group stumbled over each other as they tripped their way through the exit, shocked at the sudden violence of Dominic's intervention. He glared at the man still choking, his face red and eyes wide, and finally coughing as his throat opened.
"You too, get out before I call the police."
He staggered after his friends, and the crowd that had gathered parted for them to pass.
Dominic looked down at Lisa, whose mouth was still filled with the large rubber balloon that inflated into a round sphere in her mouth. She looked up at Dominic, her face covered in sweat and tears. Dominic reached down and deflated her gag, the air hissing out of the rubber, which shrunk down and allowed him to pull it from her lips with a wet pop, audible over the stunned silence of everyone else in the room.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you, oh my God, they were going to…you saved me, thank you for saving me," Lisa sputtered and cried as Dominic cut the zip-ties that bound her with a pocket-knife.
"Thank you, Master," he corrected, "It's my job to protect you. Your discipline at my hand is not cruelty, it's my duty. You deserved to be rescued from them. Now let's get you dressed more nicely, and give you a break since you've been through so much. I'll be your guardian until these guys are done with your classmates."
"Yes Master, thank you Master, I'll be good, thank you for saving me…" the poor girl continued to gasp out her gratitude.
"Nicole?" said Dominic, "get me a nice dress and some nice pink Lipstuck for Lisa here. Something that'll go with her hair."
"Yes Master," said the petite, tawny woman, and she retrieved the items as the club members slowly turned back to their tables and resumed playing with their slaves.
Samantha watched Lisa's face as Dominic applied a bright pink Lipstuck to her lips, and noticed a look of adoration and devotion in her eyes, which stayed fixed on her Master's face like nothing else existed. She seemed relieved, even comfortable, as her lips were glued and she was placed in a leather armbinder that held her arms firmly behind her back. Her breasts were pushed out under the lacy pink satin of her dress from her arms being drawn so far back. Dominic took her leash and led her off to another corner of the room.
"Well that was fucked up," said Clay, "I mean I'm getting a kick out of playing with you two," he pinched Samantha's latex-covered cheek and wiggled his hand, as she squealed in his grip, "but some guys go way too fucking far with this. Aren't you girls glad you got bought by a nice guy like me?"
Samantha and Abby nodded their heads eagerly, but Samantha didn't feel so relieved. Clay might not have tortured them, or tried to shock them, but he still treated them like meat, as things to play with. The sense of shame and indignity at being used like a toy was overwhelming. She felt totally powerless and at his mercy. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at all, yet still she was totally absorbed in it, and still she felt the warmth of the medicated lubricant tingling all over her, making her crave the sensation of touch, the stimulation of Clay's attentions. What the hell did HaremCo put in that lube?
She heard a soft moan from Abby and a startled yelp from Clay as the woman started rubbing her muzzled face against his chest and gently rubbing his shoulders with her mittened hands. He hadn't told her to do that. Was the woman feeling the same way that Samantha was? Could that be why Samantha fell so quickly into a submissive lifestyle? She gulped and her stomach dropped as she realized that her sensory deprivation orgasm under the influence of the medication in her skinsuit might have been designed to alter her consciousness, to condition her into a submissive, euphoric, trance-like state. Were all these women being drugged and brainwashed into becoming obedient, submissive sex toys?
Samantha felt her skin crawl, and the sensation of the latex hugging her body so intimately felt more sinister and perverse. But the sensation also made her want to moan, the way Abby had done. Samantha couldn't stand the idea of giving in, though. She wanted to rebel. She grunted at Abby, hoping to get her to snap out of her drug-induced stupor. "Mmmmmp! MMMMM!" but the woman only looked at Samantha, confused and alarmed. Samantha looked at Clay and pointedly shook her head at him.
"Oh, is my pet trying to rebel?" asked Clay, his voice dripping with sarcasm and disdain, "Maybe you need to be reminded of how much power you've signed away to us, Sammy. Get on the table, on all fours. Now, bitch." Clay reached over and grabbed Samantha's nipple and pinched her hard through two layers of latex. She suddenly felt as naked as she looked, her skinsuit looking like an idealized nude body and only a thin layer of transparent latex covering her rubber nipples and puckered orifice sheaths.
"MMMMMMM! HMMMM-MMMPH!" she squealed, biting down on the rubber ball that gagged her, and shaking her head.
"Good to see you, Clay," Dominic suddenly interrupted, "and thanks for stopping by. I hope you're duly impressed by what you see here, we could really use a strong conservative voice like yours bringing HaremCo into the mainstream. I trust Ms. Steele is behaving herself like an exemplary traditional woman?"
Samantha gulped and swiveled to look up, wide-eyed, at her master, Dominic, hoping Clay wouldn't tell him she was misbehaving. She noticed Lisa looking up at him as well, doe-eyed and enraptured, silent behind glossy pink glued lips. It must be because Dominic saved her so gallantly earlier; it looked like the poor feminist girl was lovestruck with the man who had defended her.
"Actually, Dom, I think Sammy here was on the verge of giving me some sass. Can you believe that? I told her to crawl up on the table and wave her ass around, and she's still sitting here. I'd hate to give her a bad rating, but…" Samantha looked at her Master, imploring him, her heart racing. The thought of being rated poorly at this stage in her orientation process horrified her. If she failed to perform well, she would have to start over from day one.
"Nmmph! Nphmph!" Samantha could barely articulate so much as an "n" sound with her lips compressed by the stretchy latex of the hood and the pliant, mouth-filling ball between her teeth. She fought back tears of frustration as she desperately babbled through her gag, wordlessly apologizing and hoping that would be enough to satisfy Clay. She shook her head frantically and pleaded to him to have mercy with her. She couldn't have him rate her poorly in front of Dominic. And she didn't want to have to re-do her training over and over until she got it right.
Clumsily, with padded mittened hands and limbs stiffened by two layers of tight latex, she clamored up on the table, her face nearer to Clay and her useless fists pawing the edge of the table. She noticed some of the other men turning away from their conversations and their helpless women to look at her as she made a show of herself. The embarrassment made her want to shrink and disappear, but there was no hiding from this humiliation. She was on display for all to see, her body a naked latex form, and she needed to behave herself. She was at her master's mercy.
"That's better," Clay smirked and stroked her latex-clad cheek.
"Good girl, Samantha," said Dominic, and she looked up at him, wide-eyed and rapt in desperation to please him. Also in terror, she realized suddenly, she'd been terrified of these men and her helplessness this whole time, and she didn't know how she was coping with it. How could this possibly be her? Her real life? Yet somehow she was going along with it, desperate to please a man who was training her to be a slave, encased in a latex gimp suit and put on display, and her biggest worry was WHETHER SHE WAS DOING A GOOD JOB…
Before the weight of that could set in, Samantha felt a hand smack on her ass then squeeze hard, the surprise making her squeal and snapping out of her thoughts.
"MMMMPHHH!"
"God damn you've got an ass, Samantha!" crowed Clay, squeezing the rubbery flesh of her behind, "I just had to give it a good squeeze. You're a real catch, Sammy. This was the best purchase I've made all month."
"You've earned the right to call her that. Good to hear it from you," said Dominic, nodding approvingly, "let's talk later about your channel playing a role in this male guardianship law and HaremCo's program rollout. If you like what you see here, I think we can do excellent work for our country together. Maybe you'll even see Ms. Steele again."
"Oh I definitely plan to," Clay replied with a grin.
Dominic and Clay continued chatting like this for some time, talking over Samantha's and Abby's heads as though they were not present, even as they toyed with them, pinched them, squeezed them, and made lewd comments to them. Samantha felt humiliated and dehumanized, but her skin still crawled with desire. She wanted to rebel, she wanted to fight. But she had nowhere to go, and was totally powerless, even as the two men were discussing her as a prize to be bought, traded, or even owned outright. Her sense of dignity and self-respect had melted away, and she was a mere object now, to be used for these men's pleasure.
And yet, somehow, the tingling on her skin, the wetness in her mouth, and the warm desire building in her pussy and breasts, was making it impossible for her to care about how humiliating her position was. As long as she pleased her master, as long as she didn't fail or disappoint, she would be ok. If she performed as her master wished her to, her master would be pleased. She was here for his pleasure. If she pleased him, that would make him happy, and his happiness was important. It meant safety, security, even freedom, dare to think it. If she behaved well enough, she could be trusted to go without bondage. To start making public appearances again, this time with a fanatical audience enthralled with her sexual transformation.
"What do you say to that, Sammy?" said Clay, snapping Samantha out of her daydream. She'd been daydreaming a lot since she put on the suit…what was he asking her about?
"Mmm…mmm?" she wordlessly asked.
"She's not going to have a lot to say for the next few days," said Dominic, chuckling.
"Well, I just said you should loan Sammy out for the night. Let her go with me to a private afterparty with a bunch of other political types, some of the big donors, some of the grassroots organizers. They'd get a kick out of her, and I'm not going to get into anything you wouldn't want me to get into."
"Sorry but we don't let trainee slaves leave the grounds," Dominic shook his head, patting Samantha on the head. She leaned into the touch, noticing again how special her sensations through the multiple layers of latex had become. It was distracting, and seemed to take up every part of her mind that wasn't focused desperately on the men around her and their commands. It was simple, sensual, quietly euphoric…
She noticed she'd begun moaning low in her throat with her eyes closed, and Clay was laughing at her. He'd been watching her and she'd completely zoned out. What was happening to her?
"Earth to Sammy," Clay snorted, "You know, you seem pretty relaxed. Let's see if your attitude's improved any."
Samantha felt his fingers grip the zipper over her mouth and she panicked briefly, surprised that he would ungag her. He must be preparing to stuff something even worse in her mouth, she thought.
Slowly the zipper came undone and the latex peeled away from her lips, but she held the ball in her mouth, looking meekly up at Clay and waiting for him to remove it.
"Damn, I thought you'd be eager to spit that out. I thought you'd have more fight in you than to act like this, Sammy! Is this training shit really reprogramming you, or has this always been your kink? It's not just a publicity stunt, is it?"
He popped the wet ball from her mouth and she gasped as drool flowed freely from her lower lip.
"Thank you, Master," she said meekly. Suddenly, she thought she'd almost rather be gagged again. The pressure of saying the right thing, not getting herself in trouble, and the humiliation of being made to say subservient things to this man who was tormenting her was somehow worse than the helplessness of silence.
"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Ms. Samantha Steele, vainest and meanest conservative gimp on the conservative pundit circuit? How have you found yourself in this position, and what's next for you?" he said with mock seriousness. She knew he was making a joke, and trying to humiliate her, but she couldn't resist answering his question.
"I just started a movement, Clay. Everyone's talking about me. I just had dinner with Senator Blume, soon to be President Blume, and this male guardianship law is going to be a reality. I'm the face of the new American woman," she found herself gaining confidence and even taking a snarky tone as she kept talking. Did she really still believe this was going to propel her to fame, to prominence? It had to, male guardianship was going to dominate the media for years as society adjusted. Once she was done with her training, she'd be doing appearances and signing books again.
"This is just a little orientation training, once it's done I'll be back out there owning feminists. I'm honestly practically an icon, a sex symbol, at this point. I'm the perfect, submissive conservative woman, and every man in America is going to want his wife or his girlfriend to be like me. You couldn't resist bidding on me yourself, Clay," she teased, "You couldn't wait to see me in person and get your hands on me."
"You'd be right about that," said Clay, smiling and reaching for Samantha's breast to squeeze it, "but you're forgetting one thing."
Samantha squirmed under the squeeze and tried not to moan. The sensation of being touched, even roughly and crudely like that, was sending waves of sensation through her body, and the medicated lube seemed to amplify the sensation, drawing her attention to it, and sending her into another daze of desire and submission.
"I'm…mmm, what am I forgetting?" asked Samantha.
"That you've been moaning and rubbing your legs together the whole time you've been talking to me. You're a whore for this stuff, Sammy. I'm impressed you can still manage to be so cocky, but your younger colleague has been making you his rubber gimp for the last hour and you're practically gushing inside your suit over it. You're going to end up someone's little sex doll, some trophy gimp, and in the end, you'll end up relying on strong conservative men like me to speak for you while you're silenced and too sex-crazed to think straight."
Samantha's mouth opened and closed silently, as she struggled to form a retort to his arrogant, crude, and humiliating assessment. Her cheeks burned, she was embarrassed and humiliated. He'd struck at the heart of her anxieties and fears about her new life, and it hurt her deeply, because he'd also struck the heart of her fantasies about her new life.
Clay saw her expression and began to laugh.
"You should see yourself, Sammy, you're practically a puddle. All I had to do was point out what a pathetic slave you're becoming, and your face just melts, and your body just surrenders. You're really turned on, aren't you?"
Samantha's face grew even redder, but she couldn't deny it. He'd spoken her secret, the truth she'd kept even from herself. She wanted to be dominated and owned by a man, she wanted to submit to a master and be used and controlled. The thought of becoming someone's helpless, owned property, even if it was a man she despised, was turning her on.
"I'm…yes. I'm turned on by this. I'm a woman, and I want to belong to a man. I like being under a man's power. I'm…I'm not ashamed of my sexuality, or my desires. This is what women want, what women have always wanted," Samantha said, her voice unconvincing.
"Well, that's just what I'm saying," said Clay, smirking, "you don't have to be ashamed. I think it's hot that a feminist-hating conservative bitch like yourself is finally discovering how to be a good woman. And I'm glad HaremCo is helping you get there."
"I just wish…" Samantha began to speak, then paused. She knew what she was going to say, and it horrified her, but she needed to say it. It was true, and she felt the desire to say it building in her. She was powerless to resist.
"What's that, Sammy? You were saying?" said Clay, smiling and playing with her nipple.
Samantha gasped at the sudden jolt of electricity that seemed to radiate from his fingers and tingle on her skin.
"I wish…that it had happened earlier in my life," she sighed. She could feel a tear forming in the corner of one of her eyes, and she could hear herself breathing hard through her nose. She wanted to stop talking, to take it back. But she also knew it was true.
"Why's that, Ms. Steele?" asked Clay.
"Because, if it had, maybe I wouldn't have been a bitch my whole life," she sighed, as a tear streaked down her cheek, "maybe my husband wouldn't have…I mean, if I could have learned to shut my damn mouth for a minute and listened to him, maybe…" Samantha stopped and composed herself, shaking her head, "I mean, it would be better for everyone, and for me too. I don't know."
"Sounds like you're on your way to finally learning to please a man, Sammy," sneered Clay, "with your big mouth, you're better off gagged anyway, aren't you?"
Samantha's breath was shaky as her chest rose and fell. Her body was tingling with desire and she couldn't deny what he was saying.
"I don't…I'm not…" Samantha began, but her voice died away before she could form words.
"You are, aren't you? Admit it, you know you want to say it," Clay grinned.
Samantha nodded her head. "I'm better off gagged, Master," she said softly. The word made her cringe as it passed her lips, and she hated how it sounded coming from her, and hated how much she liked the sound of it.
"Yes, you are, Sammy. And so is Abby, and so are all women. So as a conservative patriotic American," Clay grabbed an inflatable pump gag like the one the frat boys had used on Lisa earlier and brought it to Samantha's lips, "thank you for your silence."
He shoved the soft, limp, uninflated rubber bulb between her lips and she felt the pliant material fill her mouth, her teeth biting softly into it and her tongue depressed by the soft mass. She grunted softly, adjusting to the new sensation. Embarrassingly, she was actually grateful to be silenced again, rather than being forced to perform her slavegirl role and think of what to say to navigate a conversation.
Clay grasped the rubber bulb at the end of the tube sticking out of Samantha's mouth, and she felt the ball inside her mouth stiffen and expand slightly. He pumped again. She whimpered and her eyes bulged as the gag filled her mouth and expanded to the size of a softball, her cheeks stretched to their limits. Clay laughed at her and her eyes narrowed. She wanted to glare at him, to look tough and defiant. Instead she just felt small, humiliated, and vulnerable. Her eyes darted around, trying to avoid Clay's. He was grinning ear to ear, and he squeezed her cheek in his hand, feeling the hardness of the bulb on the other side.
"You're gonna look great for the cameras when you're on the talk shows. You really do have a big fucking mouth, don't you Sammy? Try to push that ball out, why don't you. Is it stuck? I bet it's too big to pop out now, huh?"
"Mmmmph!" Samantha moaned in response and pushed her tongue against the ball, but he was right, there was no dislodging the bulb. It was lodged between her teeth and filling her cheeks. There was no getting that out without his help. She was silent, and his plaything.
"Oh I know what you'll like," he said, "let's show you off to the VIPs in the club. You can do some of that networking you were talking about earlier, meet some powerful men, show them all that 'allure' you're building for your brand. Climb down from the table and Abby, stand up. Time for you girls to mingle."
Abby stood and shuffled next to the table, waiting for Samantha to climb off of it on her knees. Samantha felt her heart sink at the thought of being put on display again, but she wasn't being asked. She was being told, so she crawled to the side of the table and lowered herself to the ground.
Clay grabbed their collared leashes and pulled, forcing the women to their feet. They walked awkwardly on high-heeled boots, their legs shaking with uncertainty as they followed their master through the club.
It felt like hours had gone by, and Samantha and Abby had been groped and toyed with by nearly every man in the club. Their fellow slavegirls fared no better, for the most part. A few were being treated kindly and with very light restraints by some gentle, older men who seemed to want company more than anything. The rest were being put to the test, helpless in ways they'd never been before and pressured to perform throughout. Yet most had somehow managed to stay calm, and only one or two had to be carried out, shrieking and revolting uncontrollably against their captivity. The poor girls would have to endure this same training over and over until they finally raised their ratings. Samantha felt terrible for them.
The rest were clearly feeling some effects from the medicated lubricant in their suits, and a couple were even obviously enjoying themselves. It calmed and soothed most, but a few, including Samantha if she was being honest, were downright lustful. The combination of arousal and indignity was nearly unbearable, and she found herself lost in the experience in a way that surprised her. A week ago this situation would have horrified her. Yet more than her freedom, she found herself wishing for release of a different kind. Dominic hadn't fucked her last night, and she was becoming desperate to get her rocks off. Was that how HaremCo made women cooperative? Was she being sexually conditioned to submit to these men, and to HaremCo's lifestyle?
Of course she was. But she didn't really have an option but to make the best of it and complete her training as soon as possible, even if she might be a different woman by the end. At least she would still be Samantha Steele. That meant something. Right?
Her head was starting to hurt, and her whole body ached. The pressure in her bladder was starting to distract her from her sexual urges and her desire to escape. She needed the bathroom, desperately.
As if he read her thoughts, Dominic stepped up on the stage and announced that it was 7 pm, and the club was closing.
"Please allow the guards and my assistants to remove your slave's restraints and to return them to their basic uniforms. Guards, girls, you know the drill: white dresses, basic metal cuffs, and a white permaseal. Slaves, remember to thank your masters before you are re-gagged and gentlemen, please reward their good behavior with five star reviews."
As the guards and Carol and Nicole began releasing and re-dressing the woman, Dominic continued to speak.
"Slavegirls, listen up. Also if you gentlemen are interested, I'll explain a little about how HaremCo girls live, and our company's innovative solutions for long-term bondage. You see, these are first-day slaves, and as such, they can only stay in their suits for so long before they need food, water, and to relieve themselves. It's been hours, and I'm sure they're dying to use the restroom."
That was true, Samantha thought. She'd been wondering dreadfully how she was meant to hold it this long, or go without eating or drinking. Surely they'd be given breaks, right?
"HaremCo R&D has come up with a series of pharmaceuticals to help care for women in long-term restraint. First, you may have noticed your girls were more receptive and calm than you'd expect for women in their situation. Their suits are lubricated with a medicated lube used at our HC Salon to relax and stimulate women during spa treatments. Their bodies are ultra-sensitive under those suits which increases their pleasure, and the euphorics in the lube helps them into a calm, trance-like state. If you've got a slave of your own at home, I highly recommend you pick up a bottle for yourself, especially if you've invested in one of our skinsuits."
Samantha watched as the other girls were dressed back into their white dresses, their hands cuffed behind their back with conventional steel handcuffs, and squishy white rubber balls were stuffed in their mouths before the application of a white permaseal.
"More recently, we've developed medicated gel-balls, squishy reusable rubber spheres that serve as mouth stuffing for a gag but also orally deliver different medications. There are several types of med-balls, as we call them, and every night trainees at HaremCo are given a nite-ball, such as we are giving them now."
Carol approached Samantha and deflated her pump gag while a guard undid her mittens. Once she was out of her transparent suit and back in her white dress, she begrudgingly thanked Clay, addressing him as Master, to which he smirked and slapped her ass playfully.
"We administer nite-balls every night to increase our girls' rehydration, to sedate them for a deep and restful sleep, and to promote their…well, their bodily functions. They'll rehydrate and relieve themselves fully every night, which is important because every morning, they're given a stim-ball that gives them energy for the day while reducing dehydration and eliminating the need to use the restroom, so they can stay suited up, gagged, and bound all day long without risk to their health."
"Open wide, Ms. Steele," said Carol as she brought a glossy white rubber ball to Samantha's lips. It was soft and malleable, but also tasted of a medicinal flavor she didn't recognize. As soon as Samantha had the ball in her mouth, Carol quickly applied the glossy, sticky permaseal that held her mouth firmly closed and the squishy ball in place.
"This is how we'll maintain our slavegirls for the next few weeks, or months if they make it difficult, of their lives. They'll only eat or drink twice a day, in their quarters, unless we reward them with a proper meal with their Master for good behavior. They are fed from dispensers in their slave quarters. One dispenser delivers water directly to the slave's mouth, and the other delivers a pleasant-tasting nutrient smoothie with a full spread of macronutrients and mild mood regulating compounds to keep them smiling behind those gags. Each woman must consume their full water and smoothie rations before being allowed out of their quarters. Now say goodbye to these girls as we welcome them to their new accommodations! Line up girls, it's time to go to your quarters."
Samantha struggled to process all this as she lined up with the other girls, their leashes each fastened to each other's collars in a long line led by Dominic at the front. They weren't going to let her out all day? They'd just make it so she didn't need the bathroom, and she only needed water in the morning and night? She remembered the smoothie they were talking about, Dominic had given some to Carol when she'd visited the Dungeon on her HaremCo tour. Was that all she would eat? From a "dispenser" in her "quarters?"
Her quarters, her mind flashed back to the tiny rooms with the narrow beds in the dorms she'd seen on her tour, the ones with the restraints built in. She'd be sleeping in there, living in there? She'd have to stay in her suit all day, except to sleep? How long was this supposed to take? Dominic told her only a couple weeks, but what if she failed and her training was repeated? How long could she be stuck for, if she didn't behave?
Her heart was pounding in her ears as she was led in a line of other gagged women down the hall and up an elevator to their new home, the slave quarters in HaremCo. The hallway was stark, the lights bright and buzzing, and she heard the moaning and sighing of other women as they were ushered to their rooms and locked inside, four to a room. Each room had four narrow beds, and each bed had a label with its assigned woman's photo, her measurements, and her "training status," a series of ratings with scores and notes, like on a report card. At the far side of the rooms, mounted high on the sterile white concrete walls, were spherical, 360-degree surveillance cameras, with translucent black lens covers and white round chassis.
Last to go into their room were Samantha, Abby, and Lisa. Samantha wondered why there were only three to this room, but upon entering she knew why: Jessica, the caramel-skinned black woman who'd been part of her group, lay on one of the beds, her body encased up to the neck in a black rubber cocoon that must have been vacuum-sealed. The slightly wrinkled, ultra-tight layer of rubbed clung so tightly that it revealed every crevice of her body, from her arms at her sides to her tightly closed legs and feet. Two chains fastened her collar to metal rings at the corners of the head of her bed. She appeared ungagged, but she stared silently with desperate, fearful eyes at the three slaves as they were led into the room, and her cheeks and lips bulged slightly, telltale signs that her lips were glued with lipstuck, and her mouth crammed with a mouthplug.
Jessica must have failed her training, thought Samantha, I didn't even notice them taking her away from the club. Poor thing, she'll have to do that all over again…glad that's not me.
Dominic stood at the door and instructed the girls, "wonderful job today, girls, with the obvious exception of Jessica, who will be sleeping in restraint tonight as punishment for her rebellious behavior. I truly hope this is a learning experience for you, Jessica. I don't want to do this to you every night, but I promise I will until you become a happy, thriving sub like your husband deserves."
Jessica said nothing, her eyes glistening as tears began to streak her cheeks and drip on the tight latex covering her chest. Dominic looked to the other girls, who were standing awkwardly, shifting their weight and staring back at him with varying expressions of apprehension. Samantha realized she was terrified of him, of how he would treat her if she displeased him, of what he would do to punish her, but that only made her crave his attention more.
"The rest of you, wait here until Carol arrives. Carol and Nicole are both captains for your class, and you four along with eight others are in Carol's group. She'll come by, release and undress you, and explain your nighttime routine. I know you've gotta go, but hold it till she gets here. And don't worry about Jessica, we took care of her and gave her her nite-ball when we removed her from the club. She'll drift off any minute now, and she's been fed, watered, and relieved. Hang in there, girls, Carol's on her way. Good night."
And with that, he shut the door, a whirring mechanism and a metallic thud resounding through the small cell as the heavy metal door locked automatically.
Lisa quickly trotted over to the door on the side of the cell by the entrance, which must have been the bathroom. As she struggled to open it with her hands cuffed behind her back, Abby sidled up to Samantha, eyes round and grateful as she looked into Samantha's eyes. Samantha wanted to hug the woman, who was clearly attached to her for comfort, but she couldn't with her cuffed hands, so she pressed the front of her body gently into Abby's, gently rubbing her cheek against hers in the best semblance of an embrace she could manage. Abby sighed softly and relaxed her body into Samantha's.
"MMM! MM-HMM!" Lisa burst out as she opened the door, then she groaned in frustration as she remembered she couldn't go until her suit was removed.
Samantha took a moment to regard the room, her eyes beginning to droop in drowsiness as the medicine continued to dissolve from the nite-ball in her mouth. At the head of each bed, mounted at the wall, were what appeared to be two soap dispensers, each with a four-inch long cylindrical nozzle of some kind sticking out of them. The dispensers had a transparent gauge that showed how much contents remained, and one was filled with water while the other contained a mossy-green goop. That must have been the nutrient smoothie. The nozzles were far from realistic, anatomically correct penises, but the phallic design and the fact that she'd be sucking her sustenance from them wasn't lost on Samantha.
She felt a gurgle inside her, and knew she'd explode if she didn't use the bathroom soon. She couldn't wait to relieve herself, take a drink of water, and pass out. That nite-ball was really doing its job, she thought.
With a whirr and a clang, the door began to unlock and the three women turned to face the exit, sighing with relief when Carol entered, a cute, sincere smile on her lips and in her blue eyes, her blonde ponytail bobbing playfully behind her head. Samantha was jealous at how effortlessly feminine Carol always managed to look.
"Hi girls! Wonderful job tonight, I'm proud of all of you. Except, you know, Jessica…anyway, let's get you out of those suits and into the restroom! I remember my first day and I know you must be dying to pee. Lisa, you first! Give me your hands…" She unlocked Lisa's handcuffs, then her collar, and instructed her to remove her collar and skinsuit, then use the bathroom.
While Lisa was undressing hurriedly, tap-dancing from one foot to the next in her desperation to relieve herself, Carol unlocked Abby and Samantha's cuffs, then their collars as well. Samantha unbuckled her collar and struggled to unzip her skinsuit. The skin-tight latex clung to her body, but she was so eager to pee that she nearly ripped the thing in half getting out of it. Once the tight, sweaty garment was peeled from her body, she noticed that the air on her skin didn't cool her much. Her body was hot to the touch from the long confinement of the suit.
Lisa finished and ran to the bathroom, shutting the door behind her and groaning with relief through her gag.
"Now girls, let me show you our pneumatic delivery system for the room," Carol pointed to a large, transparent PVC tube running from the floor to the ceiling in the middle of the room. She opened a clear plastic door, and revealed a compartment inside that contained towels, toothbrushes, soap and shampoo, and clean white nightgowns similar to the dresses slave-girls wore.
"HaremCo will send you items you need to prepare in the morning, and necessities for your nightly routine," explained Carol as she withdrew the items, placing them on a small table by the barred window at the far side of the room, "and you can send back your used skinsuits, restraints, and med-balls. The skinsuits and med-balls get medicated again and reused, so we don't waste material! This is also how your viewers on HaremFans can send gear to your room for you to use…but I'm getting ahead of myself. We'll save HaremFans for another day."
Lisa stepped from the bathroom naked and sweaty, but obviously refreshed, and Samantha stepped in after her once her skinsuit was off. She slammed the door behind her and relieved herself with an embarrassing level of relief. Now she just needed some water, she thought as she swallowed the medicinal taste of the nite-ball yet again. She left the bathroom and Abby sprinted in behind her. She noticed Lisa covering her nipples and crotch with her hands, obviously embarrassed to be naked.
"Sorry Lisa, but I won't let you put on your nightgown until you've showered. That would be gross. Besides, you look lovely, and we're all girls here!" cooed Carol.
Lisa grumbled and sulked, but sat down on her cot in resignation.
Abby stepped out of the bathroom, obviously relieved, and Carol stood up and clapped her hands.
"Well girls, it's time for your shower! This is so fun, it's like being a car in a car wash!" Carol chirped as she motioned the girls into the bathroom.
Samantha hadn't noticed the shower in her haste, and was shocked when she saw a massive sliding door with a heavy bar on the outside, and a large shower big enough for four women with its walls, ceiling, and floors covered in tiny nozzles. There were large round fan vents in the ceiling and walls, set a few inches into the smooth, sanded concrete.
"In you go! Rub-a-dub, girls!" Carol pushed the girls one by one into the shower, whimpering meekly into their gags, and they nervously eyed the nozzles and fans as she bolted the plastic door with a heavy metallic thud.
"All right girls, once I push the button, the cleanser will start squirting, so make sure to rub it all over, and don't forget to get your hair! Then you'll be sprayed off, then finally dried, squeaky clean! Heehee, it's fun, you'll see. I'll be watching!"
Carol pressed a button on the wall and a klaxon sounded from the sealing as the walls began a mechanical hum. Suddenly, thin jets of clear, lavender-scented gel shot at the women from the walls, above, and below, causing a few yelps of surprise. Samantha and the other two started rubbing the cleanser all over them, and Samantha remembered to work it into her hair before the spray turned to blissfully warm water, and the girls became covered in suds from head to toe.
Carol watched through the door as they were blasted with water, and giggled as the three girls stumbled and slipped under the powerful jetstream. Once the soap had run off their bodies and down the drain, the fans in the walls began to whir and spin, and hot air began blowing at the women. Their hair blew wildly around, whipping at their faces as they squirmed and squealed.
When the last drop of moisture had blown away and the women's eyes were wide, red, and watery from their time in the fan, Carol pressed another button on the wall and the fans began to slow down. She opened the door and giggled.
"Heehee, I know, that's always fun. You'll be able to do that yourselves from now on, since it's totally automatic, and I think you'll really like it. Now go get dressed, and brush your hair. Then we'll get those gags off and get you fed and watered. You're doing so well for your first day, I'm proud of you girls!"
The women walked to the pneumatic tube at the back of the room and dressed into their white nightgowns, brushing their hair dutifully with the provided brushes, happy to have the dignity of being clothed.
"All right, ladies," Carol produced a stick of solvent from a small fanny pack, "the moment you've been waiting for. But before I ungag you, let me give you this advice, woman-to-woman," she suddenly became very serious.
"Be very very careful whenever you are ungagged in this place. Your mouth can and will get you into serious trouble, so don't look at your speech as a privilege: it's a liability. Remember this: a silent slavegirl is a safe slavegirl. Do you girls understand me?"
The three of them nodded silently, eyes wide as Carol spoke.
"I know it's your first day and you've never had to deal with such strict discipline, so you're very vulnerable to making mistakes that will cost you dearly. Just follow my lead, and trust me, and I'll get you girls through your training lickity-split, OK?" Carol beamed and motioned for Samantha to come forward to have her gag removed. She obediently approached and Carol rubbed her solvent stick all over her permaseal, peeled the white seal away, and patted her head when she popped the ball from her mouth. She could breathe through her nose and mouth, finally. It felt like heaven. Abby was next, then Lisa. Carol put their used gags into the tube, and the girls gathered up their handcuffs and skinsuits and loaded them into the compartment as well. Carol closed the door, pressed a button, and the gear was shot up into the pneumatic tube, replaced in seconds by a fresh, empty container.
"And with that, the room is yours, girls! Feel free to brush your teeth, use the restroom, whatever you need. You can place requests for items on the touchscreen," Carol gestured to a touchscreen display on the side of the tube that had a large index of items to request, "but I wouldn't recommend it unless you absolutely need it. No one likes a needy slave. Oh! I almost forgot," Carol gestured to the food and water dispensers, "you'll all need to drink your allotted water and nutrient smoothie rations before we let you out of the room tomorrow. I assume you all know how to please a man, so I shouldn't need to tell you how to operate the dispenser," she winked and giggled.
"Hey before you go, I have questions," demanded Lisa, a hint of desperation in her eyes.
"Later, sweetheart, just get your rest for now," said Carol as she turned to leave.
"Wait! What the fuck! This is all so much, and I still don't know what's-"
"Silence, Lisa," Carol's tone became icy cold, and Lisa's eyes widened, "or I'll have to gag you for the night. If you understand me say, 'yes, mistress.'"
Lisa was speechless for a moment, but finally relented. She sighed. "Yes, mistress."
"Good. Now goodnight girls. Lights out in 5 minutes, and I suggest you use that time to hydrate. Goodnight."
Carol shut the door, it automatically whirred and clanged as it locked behind her.
Samantha looked at the others for a moment, and the three shared a moment of silence and solidarity before Lisa walked over to her bed. The dispensers were located at the head of the bed, a foot and a half above the mattress, so she was forced to crawl on all fours to put her face to the nozzles. She opened her mouth with a disgusted look on her face, then noticed Samantha staring at her.
"What the fuck? Don't watch me, pervert. I'm sure you'll enjoy sucking your dinner from a plastic phallic symbol, but I still have the self-respect to be embarrassed."
Samantha blushed, "sorry, Lisa, I'll let you eat. It's just…I'm curious about you, being a feminist and being…you know…here."
"Isn't that what you wanted when you started this whole fucking Silent Majority bullshit? To silence feminists like me? Fuck you. I'm getting my scholarship, writing an expose of how HaremCo operates, and showing the public how sick and twisted your little 'movement' is. You may get off on being a man's property, but you're a cunt for forcing that on other women."
Samantha's cheeks flushed with anger, but she knew deep down that Lisa was basically right. Samantha was making her fame and fortune by calling women like Lisa inferior to submissive, conservative women. She had every right to hate her.
"Look, I get it. I'm…I'm sorry that you're here and you don't want to be. But look, we're in this together right now, right? I…I just want to get along…"
"Then mind your own fucking business and eat your dinner, Samantha," Samantha turned away as Lisa turned back to her dispensers.
Meanwhile Abby had already drunk over half her water, gasping and grunting with relief, and was turning to place her lips over the end of her food nozzle. Samantha sighed and crawled onto her bed, grumbling to herself as she took the water nozzle in her mouth and gently sucked the sweet hydration from it.
She was almost halfway through her nutrient smoothie when the lights shut off, leaving only a dim blue glow in the barred window by the tube. The day and the nite-ball were taking their toll, and Samantha drew her blanket over herself and closed her eyes. She felt the warmth of a body shuffle into her bed, and realized it was Abby.
"Can I…can I sleep with you, Samantha? You've been kind to me and…I'm so scared…"
Samantha scooted herself against the wall and let Abby lie next to her, snuggling close under her blanket.
"Hey, girls…" started Samantha, "Lisa, even you, Jessica, if you can hear me…" a soft moan came from Jessica's cot, the first sound she'd made since they got to the room.
"I'm here for all of you, I promise. I know this is scary and…it's kind of my fault…but I promise we'll be safe with Master Dominic. Lisa, you saw how he protected you, right?"
Lisa scoffed in the darkness but said nothing.
"This'll all be okay. It'll even be fun by the end of it, and we'll all find men to provide for us and make us happy. Even you, Lisa, if you change your mind. I think you may find you like being with a man like Dominic, he-"
"He saved me from those frat boys, yeah. But he auctioned me off to them first, if you remember. Just can it, Samantha, I get it, you want us to stick together. I'm a feminist, not a monster, I'll do whatever I can for all these women too. Now shut the fuck up like a meek conservative housewife and go. To. Sleep."
Within minutes, darkness set in, and Samantha dreamed a world of latex and bondage and ecstasy.