A Woman's Role

Ch.9

Suited Up: a Feline Feminist FreakPet

Lisa woke up with Abby snuggled up beside her, when Carol entered the room early the next morning.

"I see someone took my advice and got some action in before those g-balls wore off," teased Carol, and Lisa felt her face flush. She smiled sheepishly, half embarrassed and half proud to have had what amounted to fully orgasmic oral sex with Abby the night before. She'd had to take a lot of ribbing about her resistance to submission, and Abby had made her 'meow' and call herself a catgirl, but she'd gotten laid in the end.

The catgirl stuff shouldn't have bothered her as much as it did, but she remembered Dominic seemed to love her kitty outfit, and the other HaremCo trainer, Master Vincent, had mentioned something called a FreakPet. Come to think of it, so had Cindy. She didn't know what all this buzz about her doing petplay was about, but it seemed somehow it was being pushed on her from all sides. Even Abby liked it, and Master Dominic…well, he could go fuck himself, Lisa told herself. She was under his thumb, literally his property, and she couldn't forgive someone who would do that to her. But she was utterly dependent on him, and he seemed easy to like, as long as she pleased him. So she wanted to please him. And that was it. That's what she told herself.

But at least she could admit to herself, freely, that Abby was a score. She was exactly the type of meek, ultra-femme subs that drove Lisa wild. It could only be better if she could get Carol to join in, she thought. She had come to HaremCo expecting a bunch of repugnant male behavior, and there had been that. But she hadn't anticipated finding herself surrounded by gorgeous, charming submissive women that would drive her crazy. That was a surprising upside.

"All right girls, you know the routine. Make sure to finish your rations, use the bathroom one last time, and change into your morning uniform as it arrives in the pneumatic tube. I'll give you fifteen minutes today, but I expect you to become faster and more efficient as time goes on. Please, don't let me catch you still getting dressed when I come back. See you in fifteen," she walked back out the door and it closed automatically.

Abby hopped out of bed and ran to the restroom without saying anything. Lisa didn't know whether she should feel hurt she didn't get a 'good morning', but she supposed it made sense to hurry. Fifteen minutes wasn't long to eat, pee, and dress each other in their skinsuits. She shrugged and finished the last of her nutrients and water, sucking it modestly from the tips of the nozzles rather than greedily deepthroating it like the night before.

That g-ball had been a crazy experience. She hadn't thought it was possible to convert the mouth into a truly erogenous zone, but according to Dominic, as her conditioning went on, she would be able to orgasm from oral stimulation even without a special med-ball. She didn't know if that was good or bad in the long run, but at least for now it was a pleasant part of her ordeal.

She took her turn in the bathroom and when she got out, she saw Abby running back and forth between the beds and the pneumatic tube, distributing everybody's uniform items. She matched the nametags on the dresses and the skin tone of each skinsuit to each woman, and gave them each a collar with leash attached and a padlock.

"All right, Lisa and I will help each other, and Samantha and Jessica can partner up. Let's go, guys! I think we've got about nine minutes left," said Abby, and Lisa began helping her into her skinsuit. Abby helped Jessica afterwards, who was struggling even with Samantha's help to get into the skinsuit. She grumbled and complained while Abby inserted her orifice sheaths with one of the small rods sent to them through the tube. In about four and a half minutes, they'd gotten every woman into their skinsuit, dress, and locked the collars on them.

The small screen on the tube read, 'return keys to receive further items' so they sent the keys back up, trapping themselves in their skinsuits with no way to open their collars and unzip the suits. It should have filled her with dread and indignity, but Lisa just felt bored, impatient even, as she waited for her gag and her vibroshock to arrive in the tube.

When they did, the women exchanged some quick last words before gagging themselves.

"Try to have fun today, Lisa," Abby smiled and gave her a wink, then popped her stim-ball in her mouth and tore the backing off a white permaseal plaster, then pressed the adhesive-coated swath of latex to her mouth. Lisa felt a shudder up and down her spine, and her skin tingled warmly from the sensitizing lube in her skinsuit as she watched Abby so cheerfully render herself mute and remote controlled via vibrator. She placed a second permaseal over the molded labia around her orifice sheath after sliding in her vibroshock egg, then gave Lisa a 'go on, your turn' hand gesture.

"Everybody just endure and do what it takes to get out of here. Especially you, Jessica, none of us want to see you get punished again. The goal is to act the part as perfectly as you can, and then we're back to our lives. Until then, we support each other, right?"

Samantha took her hand and nodded, "right. I'm here for you girls, I want all of us to do well," she said, then she gagged herself and began inserting her vibrator. Lisa followed suit, groaning at the mildly medicinal taste of the stim-ball. She sighed in frustration as she slid the vibroshock into her orifice sheath. She knew that after she placed the permaseal plaster over her rubber vulva she would be at the mercy of the device, helpless to go wherever it told her to and stay there or risk electric shock, and subject to reward or punishment by anyone with the HaremCo cellphone app.

Jessica hesitated and grumbled, shaking her head at the white med-ball in her hand, looking disdainfully at the vibroshock that still remained in the pneumatic tube's container.

Abby walked up to the woman, clearly exasperated but smiling as amiably as she could with her latex-coated lips, and grabbed a permaseal, peeling off the backing and motioning for Jessica to put the ball in her mouth so she could help her apply the plaster.

"Man, this is some bullshit, how do y'all just willingly gag yourself like that, and stick that crazy egg thing in your pussy? What the fuck is up with these weird rubber pussy-and-asshole sheaths too, I can't do this freaky shit. I'm sorry y'all, I know we're gonna get in trouble, but I can't do this to myse- MPH!"

Samantha had darted over and grabbed the stim-ball from Jessica's hand, cramming it into her mouth lightning-fast before she could react. She held her hand over the stunned woman's mouth, then jerked her head toward Abby, and back at Jessica, signaling 'gag this bitch, before she spits out the ball!' Abby sprung into action and as soon as Samantha's hand left Jessica's mouth, the plaster was slapped over her lips.

Jessica howled, horrified and shocked that the women had so forcibly gagged her. She breathed hard through her nose, grunting little mumbled reflexive attempts at speech. Then her breathing slowed and the women saw her demeanor shift, as she psychologically came to terms with her inability to speak in self-advocacy. She was at the mercy of the other three women, and they weren't about to let her get them punished by Carol for taking too long to get ready. Jessica whimpered and, knowing what was expected, spread her legs and bent a bit at the waist, allowing Abby and Samantha to secure the last vibroshock inside her.

Mere seconds after the last permaseal was affixed to Jessica's pussy and the remaining plaster's backing were sent back up the tube, the door's locks whirred into motion, and Carol stepped through trailed by two guards as soon as it opened. If the women hadn't acted so aggressively and decisively towards Jessica, they would have been in deep shit.

"Wow, I'm impressed. I admit, I was messing with you guys by giving you a time I didn't think was realistic for newbies. But you guys actually did it! Beautiful job, ladies! I'm especially happy with you, Jessica. You may be on the right path if you keep meeting standards," Carol gave a wicked grin, "but now, I know that you four are capable of getting ready this fast, so I'll know if you're slacking in the future."

"You two are dismissed," the captain said to the guards, who grunted and sauntered off, "their vibroshocks will keep them in line. All right, you four are going straight to your first tasks today, no group meeting. Get going!"

Carol pressed a button on the tablet she was carrying and Lisa felt the egg in her pussy buzz three short staccato pulses. She knew this dance by now, and she stepped out of the quarters and into the hall, buzzed mildly every few steps she took in the right direction.

She would have complained, she thought, if she could. As she walked down the hall, away from Abby and Jessica and alongside Samantha, she would have cursed the device buried and sealed in her latex-coated pussy. She'd have moaned to Samantha about the agonizing frustration of the constant back-and-forth teasing and shocking, the dulling of her mind that she knew would come again as the day wore on, the heat that always felt trapped in her suit.

But, as she was slowly getting used to, she had absolutely no way to voice any of that. It wasn't even an option to begin with, and she found it easiest to try to stop thinking of what to say, which turned her focus outward, towards others, and towards the present moment and the sensations she was feeling. It was a surprisingly meditative experience when she managed it.

Samantha slowed down to walk beside Lisa, and she reached out to hold her hand. Lisa was grateful for it, even if the gesture of comfort was small, she felt the support of the women she shared her quarters with.

As the two walked together, possibly, Lisa thought, to the same end destination, but maybe not, Lisa paused to reflect on the reality that she was holding hands with Samantha Steele, the actual Samantha Steele, the crazy right-wing gender-traitor who started that stupid mouth taping trend and even years before that, written anti-feminist bullshit that had made Lisa seethe with indignation.

Strange fucking bedfellows, indeed, thought Lisa, but she didn't feel she had the luxury of being selective in her alliances when she was totally fucking helpless and mute all the time.

The slavegirls' utter lack of any standing or power whatsoever made them radically equal, but it also made them depend entirely on each other. If Jessica, for example, couldn't be relied on, the other women would have to do what it took to keep them in line. It was in everyone's best interest.

They walked into a huge marble-floored foyer with vaulted ceilings and a large glass wall, behind which appeared to be a large and well-stocked bondage gear shop. Samantha made a little knowing grunt and nodded as she saw it, but Lisa had no idea what to expect. The sign above the store said "Boutique."

It was an awfully generic name for such a wild store, she thought, as the pair walked through the aisles of merchandise, driven by the eggs in their pussies to keep going too fast to peruse the gear the store offered. They moaned harder as they reached a spiral staircase at the back of the store, and the guy behind the sales counter chuckled as the two struggled to walk up a tightly curled spiral staircase while receiving increasingly strong pulses of vibration, working hard not to buck their hips mid-step. The guy waved to Samantha and she managed a "hmph, hm-mm," and a weak little wave before facing the other way after a few steps up the winding stairs. He whistled when her ass was turned towards him.

At the top of the staircase, the pair entered a room through an arched doorway with a sign at the center of the arch that read, 'The Dollhouse' in an intricate and feminine calligraphy. She thought she'd heard that name before, but she couldn't quite place it.

Maybe it was just one of those things that was what it sounded like it was. It was just that obvious what went on there.

At the threshold of the arched doorway, Lisa looked back over her shoulder at Samantha. It seemed like she'd been here before, and Lisa searched the woman's face for some reaction, some expression that would reveal how she felt about this place. Some clue as to what Lisa should suspect.

Samantha grunted a wordless question and looked up at Lisa from the lower stair, concern in her eyebrows. Their vibrators stopped buzzing while they stood still, and Lisa knew she'd have to move soon, or else she and Samantha would both get shocked. Lisa sighed and shrugged, turned and stepped through the archway. Samantha looked worried for a split second before their vibroshocks gently buzzed, prodding the women to keep walking forward, and her face relaxed as they did. It was too bad they couldn't share their knowledge of their situation with each other easily, thought Lisa bitterly. But then, all they really needed to know was their most recent orders. She'd get through it whether she liked it or not. She heard Abby's voice in her head, telling her if that was the case, she might as well try to like it.

She gave Samantha a thumbs-up that was so half-assed it probably looked sarcastic. Samantha chuckled dryly and shook her head, then gently shoved Lisa forward.

With a slight stumble, Lisa entered the Dollhouse, for the first time, with Samantha following just behind, more than a little surer of foot.

They approached the rear of the shop, their vibroshocks buzzing harder and harder until they both groaned in unison as the pulses blended into one continuous, strong vibration, taking them to the brink of cumming, but proceeding to give way to three quick buzzes, locking them in their designated spot and denying them release.

Typical shit, Lisa complained in her head. Then she reminded herself she was trying not to do that so much. Trying not to think of what she wanted to say, since she couldn't. It only made her frustrated.

Lisa whimpered slightly, in pure emotion rather than a gag-thwarted attempt at articulation.

Samantha groaned deep in her throat, building into a soft, plaintive whine.

It seemed like neither woman really needed words to get their emotions across in this moment.

---

They barely had a moment to gather themselves after their near-orgasm before they were interrupted by a gregarious, brassy woman's voice.

"Samantha! It's wonderful to see you again, sweetheart. I think I told you you'd be back when I last saw you, in that Marilyn Monroe suit. Do you remember? I know a lot has happened to you at once, I could aaaallllllmost forgive you if you'd forgotten," said a very expensive looking blonde woman as she appeared behind the counter through a metal door in the very rear. The door locked with a heavy mechanism that sounded like the door to the slavegirl's quarters. Who knew what secrets might be kept in the back of the Dollhouse?

The woman looked to be in her late thirties or early forties, wearing an eye-catching latex catsuit and a wide, bright smile. She had a classic, old-school country starlet look about her, like any work she'd had done was tasteful because it was deliberately obvious. There was no false modesty in the woman, that was for sure.

Samantha nodded, her eyes lighting up, "Mm-hmm! Hhhhhmmm!" She acknowledged with her limited vocal capabilities that she did remember their meeting, and greeted the woman who was, presumably, their Mistress. Samantha wiggled her fingers timidly in a shy wave toward

"And the blue-haired one, Lisa. Dominic told me about you. Something like…you're a feminist undergrad in deep repression of an impulse to regress and surrender, with the need for a protective provider figure in an explicit and rigid dominant role. Oh, and Dom thinks you look cute in kitty ears. Is that about right?" the Mistress of the Dollhouse smirked at Lisa, who fumed. This woman had been fed an annoying amount of personal information about her.

"Mm-HM," she grunted in response, in a clear affirmative. She couldn't object, so she could at least be direct. She had to admit, what Dominic had told the woman about her was probably spot on. It stung like something that was at least partly true.

And she did look cute in kitty ears, it was just unforgivably cringe.

"Just kidding, snowflake," the woman's mouth split into a Cheshire grin, "I could tell all of that by looking at you. Oh, and Dom has a thing for younger women in petplay. He'll never admit it, but he blushes if you call him on it. The man's a hard-ass, but he's adorable once you know his tells."

Damn, thought Lisa, the woman had really read her like an open book. And she seemed to confirm that Dominic liked petplay. He'd complimented her kitty ears at the club. That might prove to be useful information…

"Anyway, I'm Barbie, the Mistress of the Dollhouse, and full-time shopkeeper as well as chief dollsuit designer," and Lisa felt like deep down, she somehow already knew that was the woman's name. It was that, or Dolly. It was on the nose, sure. But that seemed to be the woman's style. And however corny Lisa might have found the whole idea, it was going to be her reality, and Samantha's, until this woman decided otherwise, or Dominic came to take them away from her.

Suddenly, Lisa felt a sharp jolt of electricity in her loins, and she yelped in surprise. She'd been standing in place, so her vibroshock shouldn't have gone off on her for moving…oh. Barbie had a tablet in her hand, and was grinning sweetly but slightly maliciously, pressing a button again and giving the pair an even stronger shock.

"MmMmMmMMmm!" complained Samantha, and Lisa clasped her hands together, lacing her rubbery fingers together as if in prayer. She begged with puppy-dog eyes, shaking her head pitifully. Neither woman had any idea what they were being punished for, and that last shock was about the strongest Lisa had received yet.

"You're probably thinking you didn't deserve that," Barbie looked back and forth between the confused slavegirls, measuring their responses, "and you're right. You didn't. And that makes you feel uncertain, doesn't it? Does it make you wonder why I shocked you, girls?"

They both nodded, murmuring "mm-hmm" in low, plaintive tones.

"A lot of reasons," the woman explained, "for one thing, I bet that's harder than anyone's shocked you yet. That's seven out of the ten official shock levels in our app. You two are people pleasers, even if you can both be adorably bratty. And that'll get you far with someone like Dominic, at least for basic training. Obey, and be rewarded. Avoid punishment. But that's not the life of a slavegirl. Ultimately, it's not just about conditioning your behavior. Sometimes, it's for my second reason: I enjoy playing rough with my toys. I don't need a reason beyond wanting to. When a woman comes to the Dollhouse, I don't just modify their behavior, I make them into playthings. That's what you'll be, once your training is done: not a schoolgirl, learning and performing, but an object, at the mercy of your owner."

Lisa groaned and tried not to think of a snarky comeback she couldn't say. It would drive her crazy. This was so degrading. The woman was giving some bogus pseudo-intellectual justification that amounted to: I hurt you just because. And I'll do it again, if it will amuse me.

Lisa saw Samantha nodding earnestly, a look of seriousness on her face that was probably fake, and probably wise. She did her best to fix her face, looking meekly and attentively at her new Mistress.

"The paradigm you need to internalize to thrive as my property is this: if you totally obey me, I might torment you. If you resist me at all, I will definitely torment the shit out of you. Basically the sooner you surrender your will, the less you will suffer over the long haul. So, part of being a good plaything is embracing suffering. If you're squealing and shrieking and making me smile and laugh, you know you are doing absolutely everything in your power to maximize your own overall happiness and comfort," Barbie's demeanor was superficially syrupy sweets but her undertones were ice-cold. She had just announced to these helpless, anxious newbie slaves that she was not to be fucked with, but she was absolutely going to fuck with them ruthlessly.

"Now," Barbie manipulated the app on her tablet, and Samantha jolted in surprise, then walked off uncertainly, getting a handful of steps wrong before she found herself walking to a corner of the Dollhouse over by the side of the counter. There was a row of three kennels, just big enough to crawl on all fours into, and Barbie snapped curtly at the auburn-haired provocateur, "in a kennel, Samantha. Now. There's no key in the padlocks. Lock yourself in. Immediately."

Samantha crawled into a kennel and swung the metal wire door closed as fast as she could, but she yelped as Barbie shocked her. She fumbled with the padlock, struggling to run the metal bar through the holes in both the door and the rest of the cage, and squealed and whimpered a few more times until it finally clicked closed.

"Good girl!" said Barbie, her stern face melting into a serene warmth in an instant. The woman was some sort of psychopath.

Samantha whimpered and sobbed gently, and Barbie cooed to her softly, "you moved as fast as you could, Samantha. You should be happy, if I didn't think you did a good job, your sincere best effort, and if you weren't as sweet and cute as you are, I would have shocked you much harder. Or, I would have shocked you the same amount. At least the same amount, I think. Who knows? The only question you need to ask yourself is, 'am I being as obedient as I possibly can be right now?' Well, are you being as good as you can, Samantha? Will you commit to being as good as you can for me?"

Samantha nodded fervently, shifting in discomfort on her hands and knees in the wire cage and looking up at Barbie in a level of fear that looked almost religious. The woman was enraptured, and she'd just locked herself in a cage without a split second's hesitation. The bar for obedience was being set incredibly high.

"Good girl, Samantha. Now be silent, and enjoy a totally randomized vibration pattern while I get Lisa suited up. Oh, of course, it'll shock you randomly, not too bad, probably, it's a dice roll pattern I set up. And it'll shut off if you're about to cum, so we can save control over your orgasm for your beauuuutiful Mistress!" Barbie pressed a series of buttons and Samantha groaned, then squealed as Barbie shocked her.

"Fuck's sake, I JUST told you to be silent. Not a peep, just enjoy…whatever randomly happens inside you. Only boring slavegirls get bored," Barbie snapped, and Samantha fell silent, breathing hard through her nose and staring, fixated on her Mistress' face, trying to predict what the most important psycho in the room was going to do next. Lisa thought that was probably what Barbie intended to weed out of them: the attempt to predict. To anticipate, and make plans. Their plans didn't matter. It was all about handling the unfairness of their situation with grace. When it came to that panic response, that futile urge to cry out, to object to her situation, the only way out of that feeling was to accept that there WAS no way out.

Barbie was on to some profoundly deep philosophical shit for a woman who made rubber, gimped-up dolls out of helpless female chattel, Lisa thought with a dry bitterness.

"Well, let me explain what's going to happen here today. This store is open by appointment only, so we won't be interrupted by random customers while I train you. Samantha came here as a special case last time, and I'm sooo excited to have her back in my clutches!" Samantha squealed as Barbie shocked her to illustrate her power over the woman as if it were a punctuation mark at the end of her sentence, "If you weren't being so good, dear, I'd have shocked you twice," the woman cooed as Samantha fell silent again, writhing a bit and grimacing as sensations beset her pussy without any discernable rhythm.

"You might be assuming, my little blue-haired man-hating daddy's-girl power-switch," it was like Barbie was insulting her with information that Lisa realized about herself only as the woman said it out loud, "that you're here to become a doll. But you, my dear, are here for petplay. Not the kind they usually start girls out with, down at the Kennels with the kitty-ear headbands and cutesy little role-play sessions. What Dominic has signed you up for, Lisa, is something that I usually reserve for slavegirls who've performed at a high level in petplay, while also being highly accustomed to dollsuits."

She wasn't going to be a doll? What the hell did petplay have to do with gimpsuits? Lisa saw Samantha looking absolutely miserable, but somehow she managed a sympathetic look towards Lisa. Samantha knew what Barbie was talking about, and even as she stifled every moan and yelp that the random vibroshock pattern brought up in her chest, miserably occupied only with the task of maintaining silence while Barbie ignored her in her cage, hoping only to suffer as much as chance would make her, Samantha managed to feel bad for Lisa, and what she was about to go through.

"You, my darling, will be wearing a FreakPet suit," Barbie gave a wicked grin and giggled effervescently.

Lisa didn't know what that meant exactly, but she knew she was meant to be scared, so she was.

"FreakPet is the brand name of our line of animal transformation gimpsuits. Rather than turning a woman into a sex doll, or a rubberized version of herself, or any other normal objectification subject, FreakPet suits are modeled after animals. It's the strictest, kinkiest, and most dehumanizing form of both dollification and petplay at once! Aren't you just a precocious little over-achiever! Dominic's little gifted student…or are you just way over your head? Act excited, slave! You get to be my little rubber pet! Give me a smile, and jump for joy!" She pressed a button and Lisa was shocked powerfully, but not overwhelmingly, and she frantically faked a smile, clapping her hands in mock excitement and bouncing up and down like a giddy schoolgirl.

"That's right! I know you're excited, Lisa, and you're going to stay excited! You're going to comply with unwavering enthusiasm and convince me you love every second of getting suited up! If you're TRULY eager, I mean really over-the-moon excited to become my little rubber pet, then I guueeeessss I'll let you pick which animal to dress as. I'll give you a hint: there's an easy option that'll make your Master like you. Do yourself a favor, and be grateful for the opportunity to become a kitty for him. Not every slave gets their Master's attention so easily. And there are FAR more humiliating suits, believe me. If I'm not convinced you're excited enough to be a kitty, then I'll assume you don't have a strong preference, and I'll pick an animal for you."

Lisa beamed as best she could with her lips trapped by the permaseal, stretching the latex material as far into a smile as her facial muscles would allow. She wanted to panic inside, and her thoughts were racing, but Barbie had made it clear: enthusiastic compliance, or torment. She'd act like she wanted to get in whatever this FreakPet suit thing was, she'd act happy to be Barbie's little kitty, or she'd regret it deeply.

So, essentially, she DID want to be her kitty. She DID want to get in the suit. If she could internalize that thought, it would simplify everything. She could come back to sanity later, right?

She mimed a cute little kitty licking its paws and scratching the air, bouncing up and down and getting girlishly cute with the act.

"Are you sure, Lisa? You wouldn't rather be a pig-girl, or a great big waddling, quacking rubber duck? I think I've got a cow suit somewhere over here, let me get it…" Barbie walked over to a rack of glistening, pre-shined and lubed gimp suits, each clearly modeled after a different animal. The strangest one, Lisa thought, was a snake suit with no arms or legs and a long tail that coiled softly on the floor.

"Hmm-mmm! HMMM-MMM! MMMMMMM!" Lisa shook her head violently, crossing her arms in childlike impudence.

"You want the kitty suit that badly? You can't wait to put it on?"

Lisa couldn't afford to get exasperated with Barbie's constant prolonging of her performance. She switched right back to smiling and nodding cutely, begging Barbie to let her wear the kitty suit. The only thing to do was give the woman what she wanted, and if she could entice Dominic too, that was a win-win.

"I'm going to leave you locked in place by your vibroshock," Barbie said as she pulled a shiny white latex gimp suit with little pink details off the rack, "if you really want this FreakPet suit, I want you to walk over here, let the egg shock you the whole time for leaving your spot, and take the suit from me. It should be worth the pain, since you want it so bad."

The gimp suit hung from a hangar, and the arms, legs, and tail dangled freely, hanging down to Barbie's feet as she held it out, waiting for Lisa to walk over to her, enduring punishing shocks in her pussy to retrieve the suit. Before her training had begun, Lisa had imagined a guard, or maybe two, holding her down and forcing her in a gimp suit like this, when she imagined what horrors awaited her at HaremCo. She hadn't imagined she'd be begging, and paying a physical price, to be put in a suit, much less that she'd be putting it on herself, pretending to want nothing more in the world than to be gimped up and treated like a pet.

She couldn't risk the appearance of ingratitude. She squealed in mock delight, and decided to actually skip, like a schoolgirl, the ten or so meters from the counter to where Barbie stood by the wall. She moved quickly, deciding to let the shocks come quickly and get it over with fast, and she tried to mask her grunts of pain as grateful moaning as her pussy was shocked for leaving her spot.

She grasped desperately at the suit, but Barbie held on tightly to it, the shocks building in intensity as Lisa stayed away from the spot her vibroshock was set to 'lock' her in. If she'd ever wondered about toughing it out and running off, escaping the compound and enduring the shocks, she knew now it would be absolutely impossible. She'd wondered when she first came in why the doors weren't locked or guarded except for the cells in their quarters. The vibroshocks were why. She wasn't sure she could take it if the device shocked her any worse, and she knew it would, until Barbie released her grip on the suit.

After a few horribly long seconds, Barbie let go of the suit, and Lisa took off running back to the counter, moaning more in overstimulated irritation than in pleasure when it vibed her briefly for returning to her 'lock' spot.

She panted hard and wanted to groan in pain, but Lisa made sure to look appreciative and eager to get in the suit. She looked over its features, unsure what to make of it as it hung there limp and amorphous, and made little interested noises as though she found it cute, or fascinating.

"Good girl," said Barbie, then she walked over to a pneumatic tube nested in the wall behind the counter. A whir and a creak as the door opened a moment later, and Barbie was holding a small key.

She reached over the counter and handed it to Lisa, "that's for your collar. Take it off but leave the key in the padlock. Your collar's going back on over your FreakPet suit. You'll be just as helpless to remove it as you are to remove your skinsuit without unlocking your collar. You might think you're used to being trapped in latex with that sensitizing lube seeping into your skin, but this is going to be a whole identity you're trapped in. HURRY UP!" Lisa had been idly listening to Barbie instead of unlocking her collar, and she hurriedly used the key to unlock the padlock, then undid her collar and set it on the counter, its four foot leash dangling off the edge and onto the ground.

"Took you long enough. I was beginning to think you weren't excited to be my kitty. Hurry up and slide into those legs. You'll get hot and feel super compressed in two layers of latex, but that's part of the fun of being a rubber object! All you touch is latex, and all you feel is tingles when you're pet," Barbie mused, as Lisa slid her legs into the legs of the kitty suit, the pink paw prints on the bottom settling on the soles of her feet. There was a long rubber tail dangling from the crotch of the suit, and on the inside of the suit was an attached butt plug. Lisa made a big show of making eye contact and smiling and moaning with pleasure as she slid the uncomfortable plug into her latex-sheathed anus, feeling the smooth, featureless crotch of the petsuit squeeze in tight over her permasealed and egg-stuffed crotch.

"I bet that plug is your favorite, isn't it, you slutty little kitty?"

"Mmm-hmm!" Lisa nodded emphatically.

"Now, arms in those sleeves. Ball your hands into fists, then squeeze them tightly into those little paw-print mitts at the end of the suit's arms. Once I zip you up, you'll already be helpless without the use of your fingers to grasp the zipper. Are you getting tingles now? Are you itching with the anticipation of your helplessness?"

Lisa shoved her hands into the suit's arms as fast as she could, balling them into fists and squeezing them into the tight, fingerless latex mitts at the end. The mitts had pink padded rubber paw prints on the bottom, protecting her knuckles a bit but mostly just looking cute against the white latex of the suit's skin.

Barbie walked around the counter and zipped the suit up in one deft motion from the crack of Lisa's ass to the top of her neck, the latex stretching up to below her jaw like a tight turtleneck. It already felt constrictingly tight, and she knew the collar was yet to be replaced on top of it. She whimpered and pawed lightly at her throat, her curled fingers useless in their cute little paw mitts and unable to pull at the tight latex squeezing at her throat.

"Now for the best part: your new face!" Barbie walked over to the rack of animal gimp suits and pulled a limp rubber hood out of a drawer below it. She walked back to Lisa, presenting the face of the mask to the helpless, formerly-too-domme for petplay young woman.

Lisa gasped in shock as she beheld the face that was about to engulf and conceal her own: the mask was modeled to look like a cartoonish kitten's face, its eyes and mouth molded into its face as permanent features, and a pink rubber nose with nostrils that must have led to air tubes inside the mask, along with little molded white fangs and a simple cartoonish pink rubber tongue visible between the parted lips of the very-uwu looking kitty mouth. It had prominent triangular white kitty ears on the top of its head, with pink rubber inside the steep white pyramids of rubber. The mask was clearly meant to look feminine and adorable, but the glimmer in the big, anime-style cartoon eyes combined with the innocent, feline smile of the shaped rubber muzzle that protruded, an inch or two thick in places, from the lower part of the mask's face would be frozen on her face. It would recontour her face and lock her expression, leaving her unable to emote, and totally unrecognizable.

"Isn't she cute? This is our generic line of off-the-shelf kitten FreakPet suits. We like to dress newbies who don't have their own custom suits and personas in this one, and no matter who's wearing it, we always call them Mittens. Samantha met another Mittens on her tour the other day, didn't you Samantha?"

"Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!" Samantha nodded vigorously in her cage. Lisa was impressed she was remaining so laser-focused on Barbie, even as the woman ignored her in her caged silence.

Mittens. That would be her name, her persona. People could meet her in the suit and just think she was the same freaky petgirl they'd met a dozen times before. For all purposes, she might as well be. Neither person mattered as an individual once their suit was locked on.

"Oops, almost forgot! I need some solvent for you girls' permaseals. Here, hold this," Barbie handed Lisa the Mittens mask, and she felt the huge double-mouthguard and gumshield plug inside through the thin latex of the back of the hood. She knew it would fill her mouth totally, every crevice, and hold her tongue in a little alcove in its silicone mass. She'd be utterly speechless, just like when Dominic had used a mouthplug and lipstuck to re-gag her after he saved her from those dickhead fratboys. It would be restrictive, but at least it'd be comfortable. HaremCo's molding and manufacturing was top notch, she had to hand them that. She had no doubt this suit would be flexible, thin enough to leave her some sensitivity to touch and accentuate her every curve, but also tough as nails, and impossible to remove without a key, and even then, the help of another person, too.

Barbie returned with a stick of solvent from the tube, and rubbed it liberally all around on Lisa's permaseal. Lisa felt the glue weaken, and she allowed Barbie to peel the plaster away and remove the stim-ball, which had lost all its medicinal taste, from her mouth.

Before Lisa could close her mouth after the ball was removed, Barbie shoved the silicone mouthplug between her open teeth, a muffled "-urkh…" the only pathetic utterance to escape Lisa's lips during the split-second period between her gags.

She lost the ability to see as the latex of the hood was stretched over her eyes and face, hugging her cheeks and pressing her lips down hard on the gumshield between them and her teeth and gums. As Barbie adjusted the mask, she felt the stiff, thick molded parts of the muzzle settle over her nose, mouth, and cheeks. Barbie wiggled the short breathing tubes into her nostrils, and she gratefully inhaled through the rubber passageways as the heavier parts of the mast locked tightly into place.

She saw two small circles of light, and tried to focus her vision through the tiny pinholes in the center of her mask's cartoon eyes. On the outside the eyes were opaque, but they were translucent on the inside, and all around the tiny holes through which she saw the outside world, she saw the dim outline of the gleaming, happy and innocent cartoon kitty eyes of the mask, huge in her vision and a constant reminder of her role as a happy, eager, stupid animal. She swiveled her head, trying to get a look at Barbie, but the woman was behind her all of a sudden, zipping the hood tightly from the top of the back of her head all the way down to the bottom of her neck.

Lisa swallowed hard, the action laborious and uncomfortable with her tongue immobilized by the mouthplug inside her hood, as she felt yet a third layer of latex squeeze her throat. Before she knew what was happening, she felt the leather of her collar wrap tightly on top of all three layers, gently constricting her neck as it tightened and its soft, supple padding compressed. When it felt snug, she heard a click that meant the padlock on its buckle had been locked shut, and Barbie's face suddenly popped up in her vision, difficult to bring into focus with two small circles of sight to reconcile.

As Lisa struggled to focus her vision, she let out a low moan, and was shocked when she felt the mouthplug vibrate in her mouth, resonating with her voice in a way that drowned out her soft vocalizations, and heard a raspy, tinny, almost kazoo-like purring noise coming from the muzzle part of her hood. She let out a confused yelp and was again drowned out, barely even able to hear her voice in her own head, as if her voice were canceled out, and this time a goofy "meeeeow!" sounded, louder than her voice had been intended, sounded as if from a small speaker in the front of the mask. She felt the vibrations from the noise keenly in the stiffer mouth and nose pieces of her hood, and she instinctually reached her mittened hands up to uselessly paw at her face, reflexively trying to investigate what was going on with this mask.

"Aww, is my little kitten surprised by the sound of its own voice? That's adorable, Mittens! You just discovered my favorite design contribution to the FreakPet suit: HaremCo's patented VoiceBox technology. There's a little resonating chamber in the hollow center of your mask's mouthplug, and a piezo microphone detects even the subtlest sound vibrations that travel from your teeth into the mouthguards. There's a small speaker that produces white noise in an out-of-phase pattern to whatever noise you make, canceling out your moans and wordless squeals. On top of that, it modulates the sound into a loud, attention-grabbing animal sound! Think of it as your new kitty voice, Mittens! Try varying your volume, your VoiceBox can purr softly, mew happily and vociferously, if you're a talkative kitty, and if you scream into your mouthplug…"

Lisa's pussy exploded into a sudden burst of electric shocks, and she screamed, her voice uncannily muted and barely felt in her own throat while the speaker in her muzzle blasted out, "RRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAWR! RRRAAA-RRRAAAAA-RAAAAAAAAAWR!" like a furious or startled cat.

"Hahaha! Someone's a feisty kitty! All right, I'll take a moment to adjust your settings in the app, and…all right, get down, Mittens! Down, kitty!" Barbie shouted, and Lisa caught a gleeful flash of white teeth as her narrowed vision panned across Barbie's face. She slowly bent at the knees to lower herself down, then yelped as her vibroshock shocked her with harsh, strobing pulses of electricity.

"YYYOOOOOWWWWW-WOOOOOOOW-WWWWWOOOOOORL! RAAAAAAAWR, RAAA, RRRAAAYYYYOOOOWWWRR!" came her harsh, humiliating feline voice through the speaker. Lisa dropped to her knees immediately, and the shocks stopped, leaving her panting on her hands and knees, craning her neck up to try to find her Mistress.

"You should've known better than to be standing upright as a kitty, Mittens. What were you thinking? Your suit's got pressure sensors in the paw pads on your rear feet, so now that I've activated them, you'll get a nasty shock if you put your weight on your soles. And one more little neat gizmo that I built into your FreakPet suit," Lisa numbly felt Barbie's fingers scratching at the back of her hard rubber ears, and as her ears were scritched and her scalp was rubbed, a soft, pleasantly gentle buzzing in her pussy accompanied each movement of Barbie's fingers.

Lisa moaned very softly, the volume of the over-dubbed purring from the speaker in her muzzle surprising her yet again. Without thinking, she pressed her head and ears harder into her Mistress' affectionate hand, swiveling her head to rub herself harder against the soft petting. As the pressure on her scalp increased, the vibrations increased proportionally, spiking in intensity when a quick flick of her head scraped her right ear brusquely against Barbie's hand, eliciting an over-articulated "meeeee-yooowrrrrrr" from Lisa's voicebox. Barbie withdrew her hand, and Lisa mewed out a soft whimper as the vibrations stopped, but she shivered as a tingle of goosebumps and chemical warmth crept its way up her spine, leaving her scalp and back bristling and craving more touch.

Lisa was so embarrassed. If Abby could see her now, naturally mewling like a chatty kitty and chasing after head scritches eagerly, adopting these feline behaviors without a second thought…well, it would certainly outdo her expectations of Lisa's aptitudes as a petgirl.

"Tactile sensors in the ears and scalp of the suit," Barbie explained, "combined with sensitizing latex lube, it leaves a petgirl craving pets like a real kitty should. Getting an extended petting session is the most intimate expression of sensuality and love that a FreakPet can hope for, but of course your master can vibe you with your egg like normal, or make you dry hump something with your smooth rubber mound like a bitch in heat. Speaking of which, spread your legs, face down, ass up in the air, bitch."

Lisa reflexively moaned out "mm-hmm," and was met again with uncanny surprise as she heard "myah-meow!" chirp out from her voicebox. She stretched her mittened hands out in front of her, slowly and deeply until her face touched the ground, hoping her slow stretching would look somehow feline. She spread her legs and arched her back, shooting her ass and rubber crotch up as high as they could go without putting weight on the bottom of her feet. She felt her rubber tail dangling heavily between her ass cheeks, and she wiggled her ass slightly from side to side, swinging the tail gently back and forth. She hoped this kind of performance would earn her points with Barbie.

"Good girl, Mittens! Very good!"

"YYYYOOOOOWWWRRR!" Lisa jolted in pain as she was shocked, at the same moment she was called a good girl.

"How many times do you think I would've shocked you if you hadn't assumed the position I demanded?" Barbie asked, and Lisa felt her fingertips teasingly soft on her kitty ears and scalp again, a soft, low murmur all the response the gentle touch brought to her pussy, which still throbbed and spasmed from its most recent shock.

Lisa sobbed softly into the mass of silicone that filled and paralyzed her mouth, the plastic of her mouthplug and molded rubber muzzle vibrating soundlessly with canceling soundwaves that swallowed anything human in her soft, gurgling cries. "Mew…me-me-me-mew…me-myee-owr…" her voicebox's tinny speaker croaked out.

"Aww, is pussy cwying?" Barbie laid on a thick, patronizing baby-talk as the ran her finger over her kitty's shiny, taut rubber mound, in between the subtle, muted outline in the white latex of her petsuit of her skinsuit's rubber labia, as well as her own swollen and engorged vulva beneath both suits, "is the poor wittle pussy Mittens cwying because her pussy is so swollen and desperate?"

Barbie slapped her open palm sharply against the taut, smooth latex of Mittens's deeply-cleft, cameltoed mound, and Lisa struggled to stay quiet enough that her cries came out as bright, staccato, 'me-me-mew!' noises. Humiliated and in pain, but with nothing to do but try to entertain Barbie's fickle attentions, Lisa wiggled her ass again, feeling once more the soft waggle of the tail attached to her anus as it hung between her cheeks.

Barbie grabbed the tail and gently, slowly pulled on it a few times, shifting the plug around inside Lisa's asshole and stretching her anus just a bit as the thicker part of the plug pressed up against its puckered, rubber-lined walls, straining to exit the orifice but held in place by the tight, ultra-resilient latex of her petsuit.

Lisa wanted to scream as the plug shifted inside her, but she kept her volume down to a bare minimum, and her voicebox purred like a lawn mower as her soft moans were swallowed by counter-vibrations.

"Good kitty, Mittens," Barbie continued idly fondling Lisa's crotch, slapping her ass playfully a few times, making the supple flesh of her cheeks jiggle within the tight latex that contained them, "I know you don't trust me, and you shouldn't, you should always be paranoid of your master, Mittens, but for what it's worth, I'm genuinely impressed you're taking to this so naturally. Guess Dominic really saw something in you, beyond his typical urge to make a sweet, innocent little pet out of every wayward, thought-complicated girl he meets. Though there's also that, of course."

Lisa didn't know what to make of what Barbie was trying to say, about Dominic having patterns or certain types of subs he liked or whatever. She was too distracted with the sensations in her nethers as Barbie toyed with and teased her, as well as the bizarre experience of the voicebox in her mouthplug canceling out her voice in her own head and overdubbing synthetic cat sounds.

"And of course for every fledgling sub he makes his petgirl flavor of the month, there's an obligatory older, more serious and traditional woman. You know, real wife material, but self-possessed and successful enough that it means something when she walks away from her career for him. Somehow he always finds a way to give them to me, and has me mold them into a perfected, abstracted, forever-blemishless doll, every ounce of power and status stripped from them, perfectly happy to be his trophies. Oh, I'm not saying any of this as advice, by the way," the woman smacked Lisa's ass one more time, with a sense of finality. Barbie seemed to enjoy punctuating her monologues with emphatically timed punishments.

"I'm just saying it to amuse myself. It's not like you can change what he's going to do, any more than you can change what I'm going to do. Look: Dominic's going to play with you and objectify Samantha, then he'll lose interest, or you two will begin to disappoint him in some way. Now I've told you that. Also, I'm going to shock you again," Lisa's pussy lit up yet again with a level of shock that she couldn't ignore and didn't think she'd ever get used to.

"See, I've told you what's going to happen, and you knowing doesn't change the outcome one bit, does it, Mittens? Oh, hey, I almost forgot about Dom's new doll. It's almost your turn, Samantha! Be ready to snap to it when I unlock that kennel! All right, Mittens, kennel time. I'll close the cage behind you. Go, now," Barbie pressed a few buttons and Mittens' vibroshock turned to hot-cold mode, leading her inexorably on her padded paw print mittens and her knees towards the kennel beside Samantha, who was still waiting silently, not making a peep even when she seemed forgotten and left to rot in her cage.

Mittens clumsily pawed the cage door open, then crawled inside and turned around to face the front of the cage, peering through her tiny eye-holes in search of her Mistress.

She saw Barbie in motion, saw her hand reach down and close the kennel door, closing the metal wire latch but not bothering to snap the padlock shut as she had with Samantha's cage.

"Tell you what, why don't you try to open that latch with your little fingerless paw mitts? A real girl like Samantha can do it easily if I don't lock it, but I bet a pathetic little kitten like you can't even lift the latch and slide it over. Care to try, kitty? If you can escape, I'll scratch your ears and let you roam around the shop while I get our resident public intellectual, the legendary Samantha Steele, shoved into a rubber gimpsuit. Go ahead, Mittens, break free! Open the kennel!"

The voice box canceled the soft grunt of annoyance that Lisa uttered through her mouthguard, instead chirping a mewling whine of, "meow…" out the front of her hood.

Lisa was determined not to disappoint her Mistress, and she brought her useless latex hands with their little pink paw-prints up to the front of her cage and began pawing furiously at the metal latch, which dangled, closed, just on the other side of the wire door to her kennel. Her slick, padded latex paws slid uselessly against the smooth metal wires of her kennel, and she had no way to extend a finger to reach between the wires and lift the tiny, simple metal latch mere millimeters away from the rubbery surface of her paws.

Grunting in frustration, as Barbie giggled at the sight of her struggle, yielded an indignant sounding, "Mee-yowr!" in her voicebox's synthetic feline translation of her wordless exasperation. Lisa banged twice, then a third time, against the door of her kennel, watching the latch jiggle and swing upwards a tiny fraction of how far she needed to flip the tiny, trivial-looking piece of bent and welded metal wire. Defeated, she slumped down in her kennel, glaring at the seemingly-flimsy latch, the infernal bit of wire that stood between herself and the tiniest bit of freedom to wander or explore her new environment.

That little loosely-dangling piece of cheap, pet-grade materials had probably cost pennies to produce in some overseas factory, the whole cage itself might have cost her thirty bucks retail if she walked into any pet store in Los Angeles. But, as pathetically helpless as she was in her mittened petsuit, Lisa, a grown woman, knelt panting and defeated, trapped like a dumb animal in a cage that even a clever and dextrous dog might be able to finesse open.

"Aww, fwustwated wittwe pussy, "Barbie cooed at Lisa as she sulked in her kennel, "You know what always impresses me? No matter how mean you are to a FreakPet, they still manage to put on a cheery face!"

Lisa flushed red in her latex mask, and she glared deadly lasers of feminist outrage through the tiny peepholes in her mask's pupils. But, her grumbles came out as cheery, goofy "mee-yow-wow-waowr"-ing. As she struggled to find her Mistress' face in her narrowed vision, she noticed again how large the translucent shapes and lines of her cartoon eyes loomed in her vision. She knew that no matter how miserable she was, or how furiously she stared someone down behind those silly anime-style eyes, she still had a goofy feline smile frozen on her contoured, molded rubber face, and a twinkle in her sweeter-than-saturday-morning-cereal eyes.

Lisa's feelings, her thoughts, they were all trapped with her inside the suit.

On the outside, Mittens mewed and purred with an innocent joy on her face that wouldn't feel out of place on a cartoon princess' animal sidekick.

Oh God, thought Lisa, am I becoming Samantha's animal sidekick?

Just when she thought she could go no lower, she heard Samantha's cage door creak open and a quiet shuffling of latex-clad limbs, and she glanced up and happened to catch a glimpse of Barbie's wicked grin as her Mistress said, "right this way, out of your cage, now, princess."

At least she was a kitten instead of a frog, thought Lisa darkly as her vibroshock lit up all of a sudden in an unpredictable, seemingly random pattern that included unexpected minor shocks as well as erratic vibrations.

How she managed to find space in her mind for stupid jokes like that, in a situation like this, she'd never know.

Suited Up: a Dutiful, Dehumanized Doll

Samantha crawled tentatively out of her cage, grateful to be finally relieved of the uncomfortably erratic random pattern her vibroshock had been set to. She stood up and stretched her legs, then her arms, her limbs stiff from being crammed into that small kennel. She felt free, or at least freer than she’d been in the cage.

She was still gagged with the white permaseal and rubber stim-ball that had been part of her morning uniform, along with the locked leash and collar that prevented her from unzipping her latex skinsuit and sliding out of the tingling-lube lined bodysuit that was the only clothing she was permitted besides her simple white slavegirl dress.

She still had a diabolical vibrating plastic egg sealed in her rubber-lined pussy that would buzz and shock her into total movement control.

So, she was actually totally helpless and utterly under the thumb of an unhinged Mistress living her childhood fantasy of playing with toys all day in her sovereign domain, even if those toys were human women. She wasn’t free, she’d just traded her literal cage for a technological and social one.

But, she thought as she groaned with a particularly nice stretch of her back, it was important to enjoy small blessings in difficult times like these. causing the elastic but strict rubber of the permaseal plaster glued to her lips to similarly stretch wide between her lips as they labored open, before, of course, it snapped her mouth back into its neutral, closed position.

She looked down at Mittens and saw the same cheerful rubber feline she'd met the other day staring back up at her from the kennel, but this time knowing it was Lisa's face, and Lisa's feelings, and the passionate, bratty feminist's entire personhood hidden behind that frozen cartoonish expression.

Samantha wondered how many women had been "Mittens" before Lisa. She wondered who was trapped in the suit last time she'd been to the Dollhouse, and if they'd really been as happy as she'd initially assumed. She wondered, as Mittens mewled and purred in a feline babble that gave little hint as to her human state of mind, if it was really better, really freer, to be outside of those cages, subject to Barbie's twisted mind games and sadism and constantly forced to act on command, or if a slavegirl like herself and Lisa's best hope was to stay in the cage, forgotten, as she'd been for so long while Barbie suited Lisa up and proceeded to play with the petgirl.

Nothing was expected of the girl in the cage but that she’d endure a stretch of time at the mercy of fate, random chance writing its indifferent pattern on her insides in contrasting but equally meaningless inks; inks colored in pleasure, or in pain. Her helplessness was passive, and her mind was her own, if she could make something of it in that state of distraction.

As Samantha nervously followed the vibrations in her vibroshock towards a rack of latex suits towards the entrance of the shop, her thoughts lingered briefly on Mittens, trapped even in her unlocked kennel with her fingerless padded paw mitts and left in a purgatory of helpless discomfort for an indeterminate amount of time.

Quickly, however, Samantha began to worry more about her uncertainty about her own near future, as she stopped in her place, the constant pulse of her reward vibrations a welcome break from the chaos of the vibrator's random mode, even if it didn't let her reach climax. Barbie had set Samantha's spot over here, in between two tall racks with all manner of colorful rubber suits dangling from hangers on either side of her.

Her Mistress was saying something she couldn't hear from this distance to Mittens, who began making conversational, if plaintive, cat-like banter. Samantha didn't know if it was worse to be garbled, slur-balled like Jessica had been the night before, or to have your voice canceled out and replaced with robotic-sounding cat noises.

Samantha swiveled in place, curious if apprehensive about the troves of latex suits and hoods that packed the large, yet well-spaced merchandising displays. There was too much to take in all at once, even on her second trip to the Dollhouse. She figured she could be helplessly suited up and restrained a different way every day for the next five years and still not have seen everything the spacious and densely-stocked gimpsuit emporium had to offer.

She hoped and prayed it never came to that.

She turned to face one rack of suits and leafed through them as she waited for her Mistress to approach her, or release her vibe's 'lock' function. She saw one suit that was shiny silver, its surface almost entirely covered with a metallic rainbow iridescence, like an oil slick or a soap bubble on a wet sidewalk. Its hood was attached seamlessly to the body, and instead of eye openings there were two curved, shaped lenses of a translucent, holographic-looking material. There were three holes, two for nostril tubes and one in the center of the featureless closed mouth of the hood, presumably leading to tube through the attached gag, like the breathing/drool tube that Samantha's clear-panel penis gag from earlier had sported running down the length of the gag.

That one and the others on that rack, Samantha decided, had a strange abstract quality to most of them, like they visually transformed a woman into an anonymous, woman-shaped object made of glittering gold, iridescent holographic strangeness, or some other highly aesthetic material. She supposed everything was somebody's fetish. One suit even had a textural pattern embossed in its nickel-grey latex skin that made it look like the wearer was coccooned in wrap after wrap of classic grey duct tape. It almost fooled Samantha for a moment, but it's stretchy rubbery texture was obvious upon briefly handling the material.

She nervously swiveled her head to see if Barbie was headed over to her, but her Mistress was still having a blast tormenting Mittens by making the poor petgirl beg to be let out of her kennel. It must have been bizarre and humiliating for Lisa to be made to speak in that ridiculous synth-cat voice, and it was obvious to Samantha that Barbie wasn't going to let Mittens out no matter how she begged. The more Lisa got her hopes up that Barbie might actually flip the latch on her kennel and let her crawl out, the harder and sweeter she'd beg. The more desperate and hopeful she became, the more devastating, and therefore delicious to Barbie, the prospect of denying her release would become. There was no winning strategy, only obedience in the hopes of avoiding worse punishment.

While she had her fun and Mittens had the opposite of that, Barbie seemed content to leave Samantha locked in her assigned position, trusting the vibroshock to keep her where she wanted her, and the permaseal plastered over her mouth to keep her quiet. Her restraint was still so simple compared to any of these crazy suits that she and Lisa were being made to wear, but the combination of two of HaremCo's main innovations still managed to completely contain and silence her without possibility of escape.

There were degrees to bondage, if there were degrees to freedom, Samantha figured. However, in this situation, there was a world of difference between her level of bondage and Lisa's, but somehow both women had the same degree of freedom: none. No movement, no speech. That was basically it when it came to influencing the world around them, and they had zero chance of regaining either of these fundamental powers without the assistance of their captor.

Samantha turned to the other rack of dollsuits behind her, trying to figure out which one Dominic might want to see her in, and wondering which one Barbie might end up putting her in. Would she get a choice of suit? It seemed crazy optimistic to think she might have a choice in anything at all in her predicament. But Lisa had gotten a choice of animal. Maybe Samantha could find one that didn't look so bad.

Or one that would attract Master Dominic.

Samantha had heard Barbie talking about Dominic's 'patterns', the kind of women he tended to form some sort of predictable soft spot for, and the way Barbie had seen those interests peter out in the past. Well, fuck Barbie, and fuck those other women.

None of those other women had been her. None of them were Samantha Steele.

She had to believe she would be special to Dominic. She was crucially important to the overarching plan for the Male Guardianship act and HaremCo's mainstreaming of lifestyle bondage. Too important to the organization not to retain his attention. Once she completed her training, it would be the two of them doing publicity appearances, opinion panels, et cetera, and she'd sit by silently, the public face of submissive femininity, and be a gorgeous trophy worthy of a man as great as her master. She was sure of it.

But which of these suits did she think she could tolerate? Any of them? If none of them, then, all options being god-awful, which one would at least appeal to Dominic's tastes?

Suddenly she remembered Dominic made her a promise the night before.

He told her if she did well at the Dollhouse today, he'd give her a taste of his cock.

After sucking on rubber balls and dildos and all manner of restrictive and silencing plastic objects extensively for the last few days, Samantha felt strongly that she deserves some real fucking sexual contact for once, even if she was giving oral. It was Dominic, after all. Maybe if she was lucky he'd give her a g-ball to suck on before letting her go down on him, and she could get the oral orgasm she had craved so badly last night, when Dominic had teased her by letting her feel his cock through his pants with her hands.

Whereas the first rack of suits seemed designed to objectify the wearer by simulating transformation or encasement in a particular material, the opposite shelf from where she stood was filled with dollsuits that looked…well, like dolls. One explicitly resembled a cheap blowup doll with goofy looking massive latex condoms in all its orifices instead of the much sleeker, thinner ones in Samantha's skinsuit. Another suit had no mouth opening but clearly contained a gag, and this one had drawn-on goofy-looking red lips and cartoonish eyes with only tiny holes in the pupils to see through. That one was smooth in the crotch and there was no way to get at her mouth.

She thought back to the Marilyn Monroe mask she'd worn twice before, and the strange rubber newmouth inserts that entirely lined her oral cavity in sturdy rubber just thin enough to stretch a bit and allow mouth movements. The newmouth in the Marilyn Monroe suit had almost felt like something between a garble, with its latex tongue sheath, and a full silicone mouthplug, with its gumshields and dual mouthguards. The newmouth had let her move her tongue a little bit, though, so that had to count for something. And she'd been able to work the rubber lips on the newmouth open and closed, albeit with some effort.

Just as Barbie finally turned away from poor Mitten's kennel and started walking towards her, Samantha found a suit that had a realmouth. It wasn't the Marilyn Monroe suit, or anyone famous, but rather just a very realistic-looking face and an attached dirty-blonde ponytail wig.

It was the most realistic of all the suits on this rack, and its mouth opening was almost exactly like a woman's mouth in shape. It wasn't cartoonish or silly, but it was uncannily lifeless, like a mannequin of way higher detail than necessary, or a generic online avatar of a beautiful, tanned, fit blonde woman. The latex of the suit was slightly darker than her own skin, or her skinsuit, and it had a slightly bronzed, tanned look to it. It looked like an insipid male fantasy of a personality-free, bog-standard breed of hot chick, not tawdry enough to be trashy but sort of mentally blank, a canvas to project whatever a man wanted onto her.

But it didn't seem like the most hellish thing possible. Or the ugliest. She took the suit tentatively off the rack and presented it to her Mistress as Barbie approached her.

"Oh my God, I'm so glad I took you guys as a favor to Dom. That girl is hilarious! Some girls are so self-conscious in that suit they refuse to speak, but not this one! She's a talker! She'll 'meow' you her whole life story, if you tell her you'll let her out of a cage, and then don't, over and over. She might be my favorite Mittens ever if she keeps this up."

Samantha was glad Barbie was in such a good mood, and she held out the suit she'd found, wordlessly asking her Mistress if she could wear this one, please.

Barbie's giggling fit over Mittens' antics was finally dying down, and she finally seemed to notice Samantha's request.

"What, you have a favorite? I left you alone in some corner of the room, and you just up and picked yourself out a dollsuit on your own initiative?"

Barbie sounded incredulous but uncharacteristically good-natured as she questioned Samantha. Samantha was getting tired of being questioned while gagged and unable to respond. She nodded affirmatively, and smiled mildly through the permaseal she was still wearing from that morning. "Mmm?" She mumbled a wordless question, relying on simple tone.

Barbie chuckled again, "sure, why not? I had no idea you'd be this eager, or that Mittens there would be so damn funny. This is really my lucky day. Bring the suit over to the counter, and I'll get the key to your collar and some permaseal solvent sent through the tube. Just work with me as best you can and we'll have you in that suit in no time."

A few tiny gestures from Barbie on her tablet, and Samantha's egg buzzed inside her. She followed its pulses to the counter, and Barbie followed in a leisurely saunter, giggling to herself under her breath about something. There was something unpredictably off-kilter about the woman, a whimsy that bordered on psychotic, that Samantha found absolutely chilling.

Mittens was curled up quietly in her kennel, barely moving as she helplessly passed the time. In Samantha's experience, it was hard to zone out and lose track of time when Barbie activated the random pattern on your vibroshock. She tried not to give the poor petgirl too much attention, so as not to get her hopes up.

Mittens wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Not until Samantha was suited up, at least.

Samantha placed the suit she'd picked out on the counter and waited patiently in place as Barbie ordered and retrieved some solvent from the pneumatic tube, along with a small key that must have matched the padlock on Samantha's collar. Barbie hummed without any particular melody as she walked over and unlocked, then removed the collar, setting it on the counter and leaving the key in for when it was reapplied, shortly.

To Samantha's surprise, when Barbie opened the solvent tube she began to rub the substance over the plaster over her pussy, not her mouth.

"Hmm?" she raised an eyebrow in confusion, and Barbie giggled.

"What, you didn't notice the crotch on that suit? I thought that might have been why you picked it. We're not getting that in with your pussy sealed up, now are we?"

Samantha hadn't had time to inspect that part of the suit, and she wondered frantically what she'd gotten herself into.

Barbie peeled the plaster from her pussy and slid the vibroshock egg out of her vaginal sheath, and Samantha felt strangely empty without the device inside her. She'd grown so used to it, it was like taking a hat or a bracelet off after wearing it all day: she barely noticed until it was gone, then it felt like it was still there.

"All right, out of that dress and into the suit. Snap to it," Barbie smacked Samantha hard on her rubber rear, resorting to manual punishment now that Samantha's vibroshock was out.

Samantha nodded and hurriedly stripped off her plain white slavegirl dress, sliding her feet into the long, lubricated legs of the dollsuit. The rubber slid tightly over the smooth plastic surface of her skinsuit, and in seconds the suit was snug up to her crotch, compressing her legs tightly under a second stretchy layer of latex.

Barbie handed her a smooth plastic dildo, "now insert your sheaths. You won't feel much in the way of texture with two sheaths lining your pussy, but on the plus side, it'll make you an extra tight squeeze down there. I've heard some women lose elasticity in their middle age, but of course I wouldn't know."

Samantha blushed and bristled at the insult, but dutifully took the rod and used it to slide the dollsuit's sheaths into her already-inserted skinsuit's sleeves. Through the multiple layers, she barely felt the rod enter and exit, even when she inserted the anus sheath. Still, the lube in her skinsuit lit up with sparks and she moaned softly, not sure if it would be worse to be numb down there or chemically stimulated.

She could, dimly, make out the sensation of something midway through the new sheath, on the top of its walls. She rubbed her legs together to get a better feel, and noticed it was a hard, oblong mass the size of a small grape, and it was nestled snugly up against her g-spot.

Of course it was. That didn't bode well. Or it boded fantastically, if it was used to make her cum instead of edging or shocking her.

Samantha shyly brought her hand to her crotch, and she felt a hyper-realistic feeling molded silicone pussy, like the false lips on a high-end fleshlight of some sort. She ran a finger over its little clit, and the soft touch resulted in a simultaneous pulse of vibration from the suit, right on her clit.

She was about to probe a finger inside the synthetic orifice to touch the nub on her g-spot, testing to see whether it was touch-activated as well, when both her clit and her spot were zapped with a strong electric shock. Samantha wailed a desperate, "HHHMMMMMMM-MMM-MM-HMMPH!" as Barbie cackled.

"Hands off, slave. That pussy is MY toy, not yours. You're not allowed to play with it. Arms in the suit, bitch!"

While Samantha frantically slid her hands and arms into the suit, pleasantly discovering that the suit had fingers instead of mitts at the ends of the sleeves. She squeezed her fingers into the gloves, happy she could use her hands in the suit, even if the double layers of latex made fine motor skills difficult and awkward.

As she dressed herself, Barbie explained, "that suit's got the same tech as a vibroshock egg, but it's built-in so your pussy is free for other things. There's a node in the clit and another around your g-spot, and they're both synced to the same app as the egg I just took out. Hope you didn't think for one second you wouldn't continue to be shocked and vibed at my mercy. The suit's sleeve is embedded with a nano-weave of copper, just like your skinsuit's, so you'll find that despite being rubber, it conducts electric shock quite well."

Samantha had wondered, earlier, in a rare moment of mental clarity, how the vibroshock managed to shock her when her pussy was sheathed in rubber. Was there really some sort of nanotech metal weave in this rubber that made it conductive? Just how advanced was HaremCo's research department, anyway? Between the pharmaceutical compounds, solvent and adhesives, heavy-duty yet hyper-elastic and ultra-thin plastics, the company sounded like it could compete with NASA if it wanted to.

"The science boys really outdid themselves with that one," Barbie continued, then stepped toward Samantha with her solvent stick in hand, "there's actually nano-weave all throughout this suit, but I'll get to that later. Why ruin the surprise reveal of its best function?"

As Barbie removed the plaster from Samantha's mouth to prepare it for her newmouth hood, Samantha wondered in helpless dread what special function Barbie might be talking about.

It felt as though the instant the stim-ball fell from Samantha's lips, her mouth was filled with the rubbery mass of her suit's newmouth insert. First her teeth settled into the squishy mouthguards, her tongue sliding inexorably into its sheath as her teeth found their place. Her lips stretched impossibly as Barbie helped force the wide, soft gumshield past, and as its squishy, smooth wings slid in place, her cheeks and the space between her lips and teeth became snugly filled. Her mouth felt crammed full, like when it held a mouthplug, but she could wiggle her tongue and move her jaw, the soft rubber of the mouthguards squeaking as she ground her teeth.

Barbie slid two short narrow breathing tubes into Samantha's nostrils, then pulled the mask back over her face. She felt the latex stretch over every contour, hugging her cheeks and chin, holding her lips snugly behind the thin, slightly shaped rubber lips of her newmouth. She could pucker her lips hard and close the opening to her rubber face hole, or stretch her jaws open wide, parting the mouthguards to reveal her rubber tongue and stretching her mask's rubber lips in a wide 'O', but the tongue sheath was thicker than a garble, and she couldn't control her lips enough to smile or articulate complex sounds.

As the mask settled on her face, twin viewholes where the pupils of the mask were cut out centered themselves over Samantha's eyes. They were wider than Mitten's eyeholes, and Samantha didn't have too hard of a time seeing, but her own eyes were obscured to the outside. Like Mittens, her expression was fixed, and no matter how red her face became with humiliation, or how desperate and tear-filled her eyes became, all the world would see was a blank, lifeless, mannequin-esque expression.

Barbie zipped the suit up, the last bits of loose material squeezing around Samantha's body with a sense of finality, from Samantha's neck below the blonde wig and all the way down until she reached the zipper's end at the base of her spine. With an almost inaudible 'click', Barbie snapped a tiny built-in padlock shut, then folded a narrow strip of latex over the zipper, covering up the zipper and sealing the cover with velcro.

Samantha's suit now appeared virtually seamless and zipperless. Rather than a fettered woman in shackles and ropes, she resembled nothing more than a plastic object, in the shape of a woman, with all the features a man would want in a female sex object without any of that pesky agency or humanity to get in the way of their playtime.

Barbie squealed and clapped her hands, giggling and bouncing with the glee of a schoolgirl.

"All done! And now I get to play with my new toy! I have the best job in the world," Barbie bubbled with enthusiasm, "every day I feel like a little girl on Christmas morning. Do a celebration dance, doll! Show me how happy you are to be my new toy!"

Samantha was mortified as Barbie pressed an app on her tablet and her clit and her g-spot were lit up in vibrations, making her shiver and squirm on the spot. She moved awkwardly and with effort under the compression of two layers of rubber, wiggling her hips and making excited little motions with her hands. She would have to get used to her new suit fast, if she didn't want to disappoint Barbie. It was obvious the woman would torment her even if she was obedient, so who knew how cruel she would become if provoked?

"Good dollie," Barbie said, "now let me show you this suit's special function. I didn't believe R&D could pull it off, but it turns out with a fuck-ton of middle-eastern investment from royals and oil tycoons, anything's possible. In exchange for a handful of slavegirls to live as their dolls, of course," Barbie flashed an evil grin at Samantha and said, "now squat down with your hands behind your head. Knees at a ninety degree angle."

Samantha groaned. Was Barbie going to make her hold strenuous positions for impossible and torturous lengths of time? She obeyed, lacing her fingers behind her head under her new blonde ponytail and dropping her hips to the level of her knees. Her legs and lower back were straining almost immediately. Maybe she'd have hit the gym more regularly if she knew this would be happening to her.

"Terrible form, dollie. Feet farther apart, face up," Barbie hunched over to Samantha's squatting level, her face filling Samantha's vision as she obediently spread her feet apart and craned her head up at the neck to look at Barbie. She wasn't sure how much longer she could hold this pose, but it wasn't long.

"Much better. Now, for the 50 million dollar nano-weave adaptable tension technology. I just call it "stiffen", because that's what the button I press in the app says. How long do you think you would make it if I forced you to hold that squat for the rest of the day?"

"Mumph," Samanda said with her clumsy rubber mouth. It was about all she could say, without the ability to do much beyond open and close her lips. Her tongue was movable in its elastic rubber sheath, but it was far too restricted to articulate usefully. Far from a functional new mouth, her 'newmouth' was more like a gag that doubled as a moving part of some high-end posable figurine. Like a feature on a toy.

"'Mumph' sounds about right. You'd hurt yourself if you made it twenty minutes, and you'd be out of commission for the day. I'd know, because I've made that mistake with several dolls. And done it on purpose with a few others. But if the tension on the nano-wires meshed into your suit suddenly increases," Barbie did something with her tablet and Samantha suddenly felt her suit seem to harden, stiffening in place and keeping her body frozen in position. Suddenly, she didn't have to strain at all, the rigidity of the suit holding most of her weight and dampening any twitches or accidental movements she made. Even her fingers, still laced together behind her head, seized up as if frozen together.

"Voila! There you go: the stiffen function. Pretty incredible, right?"

Samantha was horrified somewhere deep in her mind, but she had to admit the technology they'd created for this suit was mind-blowing. She could hold this position for hours. Who knows what other applications there would be for this technology? The scope of this company continued to surprise her, and to impress on her just how powerful the forces she'd partnered with at HaremCo really were.

'Partnered' with HaremCo. That's how they'd phrased it initially, and they'd told her the training would last a few weeks then she'd be out on tour, back in her public life. But right now, it seemed clear that their 'partnership' was anything but equal, and anything but negotiable.

"As impressive as it is, nano-wires can only do so much with so little mass," Barbie continued, "so you'll be supported and held in place, but if you strain against the suit, you can still move. Try it, doll. Stand up for me, and stick your arms out to the side."

Samantha obeyed, grunting with effort as she fought against the suit to move her body. It felt like pulling against the rubber resistance bands she'd used for exercise in the past, only it was every part of her body, from her fingers and toes all the way up to her neck, preventing head movement without great strain. Only her face and jaw weren't stiffened, and she wasn't prepared to assume there wasn't a function for that as well, or any number of other seemingly impossible gadgets she'd find out about later.

The only thing that made the effort bearable was that once she made a little progress, her suit would stiffen again into the new pose if she rested for a moment. In a few laborious bursts, with frozen seconds of rest in between, Samantha finally stood at attention before Barbie.

"So you see, you won't be getting far in that stiffened suit. And you'll still be totally defenseless. But if I tell you to do something, anything, you do it as fast as you can, and you freeze when I tell you. Got it?"

Samantha could barely nod with her neck so stiff, but she wiggled her face up and down in the tiny motion she could manage.

"Mm-mu-muuummph."

"I'll expect you to remember that. The point of being a plaything is you have no ideas or initiative of your own. If I just up and forget about you one moment, I expect to find you right where I left you, no matter how long. Anything you ever do that I didn't suggest, I will punish to whatever extent I find most entertaining. My toys respond to commands, but they don't have minds of their own. And speaking of punishment, I can use the same 'lock' function from your vibroshock nodes to shock you harshly, you know where, if the nano-weave changes its shape at all. Move just a little, and get shocked until you move right back and stay there."

Barbie pushed another button and Samantha stayed at attention, actually grateful for the suit's assistance in helping her hold her pose without twitching or trembling. She was certain if she moved at all, the suit would automatically shock her until she managed to move back into her position. Barbie wanted her totally still, and keeping her happy was her only hope.

"Just in case you think I'm bluffing," Barbie suddenly shot out her hand, shoving Samantha in the chest and toppling her over.

Samantha screamed as she crashed to the floor, the nodes on her sensitive areas shocking her painfully as she reflexively moved to try to break her own fall. The shocks continued for a moment as she lay there, and she wondered if it would shock her forever, until she managed to perfectly replicate her standing position. She might be doomed.

Then the shocks stopped, and she lay in a slightly curled-up position on her side, hands slightly splayed, the stiffness of the suit having kept her from changing her erect pose too much. She panted and moaned, but she held her new pose, and the tension of her stiffened suit let her rest and catch her breath while staying perfectly still in the awkward position.

"Down she goes!" Barbie cackled, "just wanted you to know about the fall detection. Sometimes toys fall over, and it's not their fault. It's mine, because I shoved them. Teehee! So the suit'll stop shocking you if it realizes you've fallen. Your job then is just to lie where gravity puts you, like everything else inanimate.

Samantha understood, but didn't respond. What was the point? She just lay there, listening to Barbie and staring at the woman's ankles through her vision holes, not moving her head to find her face, not moving at all.

"From now on, I won't waste time telling you if you're in 'lock' mode. If you're stiffened and I tell you to move, just assume it's safe. Once you stop, assume you'll be shocked if you try again. Take my advice: don't try to game the system. Just embrace the total passivity of your role. A mindless toy, controlled by my voice commands and this tablet. These devices will naturally psychologically condition you to respond appropriately. It's just growing pains as you make mistakes along the learning curve."

"Before long, you won't be a woman trapped in a suit with their identity stripped away. You'll be a happy doll, with a simple life, and you'll only be burdened with the idea that you're a woman in your dreams," Samantha couldn't see Barbie's Cheshire grin, but she heard it in the way she spoke. She whimpered, wanting to weep, telling herself it wasn't true.

"Or maybe you'll ride out to the sunset with Dominic. You'll make his house and serve him well and he'll give his best slave ever a million gold stars and orgasms a day. What do I know? You're only mine for today, as it stands. All right, you're making me sad, lying in a heap like that. Let's stand you up."

The suit relaxed and the limbs Samantha had been holding above the ground, as well as her face, slumped back down. She picked herself back up, facing Barbie, then stood at attention. She didn't dare move after that, not knowing but assuming on the dreaded off-chance that her vibroshock's lock function was armed. She missed the three little pulses that the egg had given her, and the ability to know when it was time to move again. It was like a little algorithm that she'd gotten used to, and now she had nothing but Barbie's words to go off of. The only strategy was to assume Barbie's word was gospel, and she wouldn't get shocked if she told her to move.

She assumed the batshit crazy bitch would trick her at some point. But she'd shock her either way if she didn't please her. Might as well play the role, even in her mind. Try not to think, or react much.

She stood stock still, a mindless doll for her Mistress.

"Good, doll," Barbie praised her, "you're learning. Let's give you a little treat."

Samantha's g-spot and her clit were lit up with pleasure, and Samantha could only moan as the sensation washed through her. The suit wasn't stiffened, so she had to work hard not to twitch or tremble. Only her lips moved, puckering together with some effort as her face muscles worked against the latex to press them together. They closed, and Samantha let out a soft "mmmmmmmmmm."

"You like that, don't you doll?" Barbie asked. "You like being played with, it fulfills your purpose as a toy, doesn't it?"

"Mm-hmmm," Samantha agreed, not sure if she could risk a nod or not.

"Very good doll," Barbie smiled, "we're on the right track."

Samantha didn't want to be a doll, but the sensation coursing through her was the first positive feeling she'd had all day. She didn't want it to stop. She couldn't deny that her rubbery outer shell made her feel like an object, not a person. In moments of despair and surrender, she'd already accepted the futility of resistance. She was beginning to think that proactively embracing her role, not even letting the thoughts of rebellion or indignation bubble up from inside her to begin with, was the easiest, and most pleasurable, path.

'Just be the doll,' she told herself. She couldn't even tell if that thought filled her with horror or excitement. Maybe deep down, she had always longed to embrace submission like this.

She didn't have to make any decisions anymore. She was just an object, for her Mistress to control. An object, a doll, a toy.

"Very good. Now let's see you do a sexy walk. Strut over there to that mirror, then strut back," Barbie said as she cut off the vibrators. Samantha wanted to whine and complain that the stimulation was being withdrawn, but she stifled the urge. She knew that any attempt to influence her circumstances, any show of intention or will whatsoever, would result in punishment. Only unquestioning obedience could, possibly, earn her Mistress' favor, and her own pleasure.

Samantha walked to the mirror with a confident sway to her hips. With each step, more and more of her rubbery, unclothed figure came more fully into view.

The mirror was only about ten paces away. Barbie had probably put the tall, floor-to-ceiling affair just to the side of the sales counter for this very purpose: revealing to a dollified woman what appearance their masters had selected for them. Samantha was curious, but also filled with dread at the shock of not seeing herself in the mirror, but something else entirely.

Still, guiltily, she hoped she looked pretty. She'd rather look like an unattainably attractive but objectified woman than sport a cartoonish, animalistic visage like Mittens.

She gasped when she came face-to-face with the strange plastic woman in the mirror. Her mask looked like it was modeled after a vain, twenty-something year old upper-class woman: the sort that could afford the coppery spray-tan that appeared to color her suit's latex skin, the plastic surgery that would be necessary for immaculate skin, a thin-bridged nose, and pouty, puckered lips that were rarely achieved without filler. The unblinking eyes of the suit had blue irises and were accented by glittery lavender eyeshadow. Between her glossy, hot-pink lips and tight-pulled blonde ponytail, Samantha…or rather, the doll she had become…looked just like the well-bred hyperfeminine sorority girls who had picked on her in college for her studious and prudish nature.

If those girls could see what she'd become, what would they think of her now? "Did you hear about Samantha? She wears a gimp suit now just to look like us, can you believe that?"

Then she wondered how many of their boyfriends she could have stolen from those nepo-baby bitches if she'd told them they could have their way with her in this suit. That she'd be a humble and obedient wife for them, instead of a snobby, entitled brat like those girls.

"Be the doll," she thought to herself, "show Barbie, and then Dominic, you're not just a tourist in this lifestyle."

She took one last look at the doll in the mirror, admiring its latex lips and tongue, and the fleshy, realistic nipples and vulva built into the suit. She wished she could touch her sensitive areas, could feel the new extensions of her body parts, but she realized it was her, Samantha, thinking and desiring things for herself.

The blank eyes of the doll in the mirror betrayed no consciousness, no humanity, no will. It wouldn't even occur to it to play with itself. It had no reason to do anything but what its Mistress had commanded. So, she turned back, arms still at her sides and her spine straight, and sashayed, each foot crossing over the other to swing her hips farther with each step, back to Barbie.

Barbie nodded approvingly.

"I can't believe it. You've taken to this role so fast. You must have been a slave in a past life, or a housepet. I wish all the trainees were like you," Barbie's voice sounded genuinely impressed. It felt nice to please her Mistress, however sadistic she might be. Something deep in her mind wanted to suggest that degrading herself for a crazy woman's approval shouldn't fill her with pride, but she nipped the thought in the bud before it troubled her. She felt Barbie's eyes appraising her, and a blush formed under her smooth latex mask. Not that anyone could tell: the mask's blank yet sultry expression, devoid of intelligence, was all anyone would see, no matter how Samantha felt.

Barbie circled around her, and she resisted the urge to turn her head and keep the woman in her vision. Her Mistress traced a meandering circle all over her body with the tip of a finger as she walked tight circles around her plaything. Sometimes it tickled, and Samantha struggled to suppress her involuntary flinching. She knew she trembled more than once, and Barbie must have felt it. Maybe she was letting it go. Maybe she was just letting her keep twitching until she felt like shocking or spanking her for it.

As Samantha stood there, wondering if a massive shock would explode in her most tender regions at any moment, she watched Barbie's gleaming face flash before her vision, then disappear in what felt like an endless cycle as the woman circled her. She wished the woman would stiffen her suit, to help her stay still.

She realized it was stressing her out to think of Barbie's next move. All it produced were what-ifs that she could do nothing about. Maybe that was why Barbie made such a point of being unfair and arbitrary, Samantha thought. It was her way of conditioning a woman to give up on agonizing over strategies to avoid punishment and obtain rewards: they'd either get them, or they wouldn't. The sooner they could quiet the voice of their own wills and desires, the happier and less stressed they would be. Could the woman's seemingly psychotic, whimsical cruelty actually be a profound lesson, an essential life skill for surviving a life of submission?

Before she could decide whether she believed that, she felt Barbie's fingers clamp tightly down on her suit's nipples, pinching and twisting them cruelly. Barbie was reaching around her body from behind, and she couldn't see the woman at all. Her worrying about when and if the punishment might come had been pointless: she had no way whatsoever to see the discipline coming.

Startled and wracked with pain, Samantha screamed into her gag, her jaw stretching the newmouth's lips into a wide 'O' that displayed the rows of white rubber teeth and shiny pink tongue inside. She seized up, almost doubling over in pain. This was it for her, she knew. She'd completely broken her pose, but what would Barbie have expected? She'd have known Samantha would move if she was pinched like that. She was just tormenting her.

"Back in your pose, doll," Barbie hissed in her ear, keeping the pressure and the twist on her nipples, "and shut the fuck up. Then I'll let go."

The command was difficult, and she whimpered, her tongue pressing itself to the roof of her mouth, making the rubber one do the same, as she tried to muffle her cries and stand at attention. It took a few moments of agonized struggling, but she finally managed to stifle her cries, clenching down hard on the soft rubber of her mouthguards. She couldn't help but whimper quietly and pathetically, but she managed to straighten her posture and hang her arms neutrally at her side, perfectly still like Barbie wanted. Barbie kept her cruel pinch for another full minute, but to Samantha it felt like ages. That was fine, she thought, as long as she was doing her best. That was all she could do.

Finally Barbie released her nipples, then came to face her doll, taking Samantha's rubber cheeks in her hands and pressing her forehead against hers in a sudden display of affection. Samantha didn't react, but her vision was filled, through the viewholes, with the woman's maniacally grinning face.

"You're my favorite toy that I've had in a long time," Barbie whispered, "I'm really going to enjoy playing with you."

Barbie tilted her face and planted a kiss on her rubber lips. Samantha didn't move, and made no sound but the soft whistling of air as she exhaled through her nostrils' breathing tubes.

Barbie smacked Samantha hard across her rubber cheek, and barked, "mouth open. Now. And keep it open, with that little rubber tongue poking out. And for fuck's sake, kiss back."

Samantha obeyed. She opened her mouth and stuck her rubbery tongue out as far as it could go. It didn't stretch too far, and she couldn't flex it, so it was a static pose. She hoped that was good enough.

Barbie leaned back in and locked lips with Samantha again, this time forcing her tongue through the open rubber lips of her newmouth and swirling it against Samantha's latex-sheathed tongue. The taste of the rubber tongue sheath, the smell and texture of the suit's mouth, were overwhelming to the point that Samantha could barely tell she was being kissed by another woman. Clumsily, she worked her rubber-lined mouth and tongue, pressing her lips into Barbies and wagging her tongue in what she hoped came across as sensual movements.

Barbie groaned into Samantha's newmouth, the woman's mouth filled with her toy's rubber tongue and her pillowy lips smushed against the smooth plastic of her doll's mouth. The sound of her groan was felt as vibrations in Samantha's mouth, and she felt the same tingling warmth that the skinsuit gave her body smoldering in her mouth. It wasn't as strong as a g-ball, and she wouldn't cum orally, but it was clear that her new mask was lubricated with HaremCo's medicated lube.

It felt odd making out with Barbie while standing stiff with her hands at her sides, let alone with a mouth lined entirely with rubber, but Samantha cherished the affection. She moaned as Barbie began fingering her clit, the touch-activated nub triggering vibrations from the embedded vibroshock node. Would her Mistress let her cum? It didn't matter. Try not to think about that. Focus on staying still, on staying silent, Samantha told herself.

Barbie withdrew from the kiss, and Samantha strained her jaw and tongue muscles to hold her newmouth open and push the tongue out past the white teeth of the mouthguards. Barbie kept fingering her clit, and she whispered, "moan for me, doll."

Still perfectly still, Samantha moaned out, "uuuuuhhhghh…uuuUUUUhhhHhhHHh…" her rubber lips held open and prevented her from articulating her one available consonant: 'm'.

Barbie knelt down and pushed a finger up inside Samantha's rubber pussy, stroking and vibrating her g-spot, while she licked dextrously with the tip of her tongue on the suit's clit node.

Samantha couldn't see this with her neck held straight, but she felt it all and figured out what was happening. She groaned and desperately tried to hold her pose, focusing all her mind on remaining utterly unreactive except for the moans her Mistress wanted to hear. She didn't have bandwidth to process the fact that a woman was eating her out while she was trapped in a gimp suit, or that it was out of the ordinary that she was desperately into it.

When her squeals and moans reached a fever pitch, an orgasm all but realized, Barbie suddenly withdrew her tongue from Samantha's clit and back into her mouth, sliding her finger out of her toy's rubber pussy. Samantha wanted so badly to groan in complaint, but she let out one final, soft "uuuhhhh…" and remained in place with her mouth open. It shouldn't have been a surprise that Barbie was toying with her. She was, literally, a toy after all. She might not cum all day.

"Well that was fun for a minute," said Barbie as she stood up, "but I get bored easily. Shut your mouth, doll. Then, spread your legs, bend over, and grab your ankles. I want those cheeks spread wide," she slapped Samantha on her rubber ass.

"Umm," Samantha responded as she snapped her mouth closed. She was grateful to finally relieve her sore jaw and let her sheathed tongue rest. She bent over at the waist and spread her legs apart, then she bent over as gracefully as she could, sliding her hands down her legs till her fingers could close around her ankles. Her peephole view of the Dollhouse was flipped upside-down, and she closed her eyes as the inversion disoriented her. She felt the suit stiffen over her whole body, her fingers locking in place around her ankles as her pose suddenly became effortless to maintain, but very difficult and possibly shock-inducing to alter.

She opened her eyes again to find them filled with the image of Barbie's boots, up close, appearing to walk on the ceiling towards her. She felt the woman's hands caress and squeeze her ass, slapping it lightly and playfully through her suit and igniting a warm tingle from the lube. Samantha knew this pose was meant to make her stick her ass in the air, spreading her rubbery cheeks to display and make accessible her sheathed privates. She wasn't embarrassed, she was happy to be played with, and happy that her Mistress had stiffened her suit to lock in her pose. It had been such a struggle to stay till while being played with, and she'd been set up for failure and punished.

Her job was easy right now, she thought as she noticed a more intense heat and a soft, latex-muted, swirling touch centered in her anus. Something was pressing gently on the opening of her hole, putting a slight pressure on it as it gently requested entry, but stopped short of penetration every time.

Barbie was licking her anal sheath's opening, and while the sensation lacked the detailed tactile texture of a person's tongue touching her skin, the tingling warmth and light, teasing pressure of her Mistress' soft tongue felt incredible.

She'd assumed when she realized she'd be being dommed by a woman, that meant she wouldn't be at risk of being used sexually. But now, she wouldn't have been surprised if Barbie pulled out a strapon and started fucking her on the shop floor. In fact, she might not have minded at all, with the way her teased pussy was aching.

Closing her eyes in bliss, she let out a plaintive, slightly whiny "muuuuuuh-uh-uhmmm…mmmMMMmmmm…"

The sensation lingered even after Barbie stopped, lowering herself to the floor on her stomach and propping her chin up cutely with her hands, elbows splayed on the floor in front of Samantha's inverted face. Samantha's eyeholes were filled with a serene, gentle expression on Barbie's face, less than a foot from her own and upside-down. She knew the soft expression hid a sadistic glee.

"That was fun. I actually enjoy the taste of latex. Some women find it quite objectionable, even after they've been fully trained and should be used to it. I bet you love it too, don't you, doll?" she kept her face rested on one hand and with the other, slid two fingers into Samantha's rubber mouth, her fingertips curling up into the roof of her inverted mouth. Samantha couldn't properly suck with her newmouth, so she gently mouthed the fingers with her rubber lips and pressed her sheathed tongue upward, licking back and forth as much as she could.

"I knew it. You work that newmouth like a pro, dollie," Barbie withdrew her fingers and stood up, then, without a word, Samantha saw her boots walk past her and out of sight. She stayed frozen in her pose, the blood beginning to pool in her inverted head. She hoped Barbie didn't forget her too long, but she quickly gave up worrying about it. She couldn't do anything about it anyway.

She heard the heels of Barbie's boots thudding softly on the thin carpet of the shop floor, but didn't bother trying to place their location. She emptied her mind as best she could, idly grinding her rubbery teeth and pursing her lips, fidgeting with the only part of her body she could move.

It was hard to tell how long Barbie was gone, but she came back before Samantha passed out from staying upside-down too long.

"I've picked out an outfit for you, dollie. Kneel with your arms stretched up above your head."

Samantha's suit relaxed, allowing her to switch poses, struggling to keep her balance at first with her legs spread so wide. As she raised her head and felt the blood rush out, her vision got hazy. Sightless, she knelt down with her knees spread apart and reached her arms straight up above her head. As soon as she was in the position her Mistress demanded, the suit stiffened again, and Samantha's arms stood weightlessly upright on either side of her face.

When her light-headedness and cloudy vision faded, she saw Barbie displaying a black and white latex maid uniform, with intricate cloth lace trim on the brim of the short, tight-looking yet frilled skirt and the deep cleavage cutout. Barbie was wearing a headband with a bow of white ribbon and pleats of satin on her head, which Samantha assumed would end up going with the outfit.

"This place needs some cleaning, and for reasons that should be obvious, HaremCo doesn't employ cleaning staff. Let's get you in uniform, and you can get to work," Barbie pulled the dress over Samantha, sliding her arms into the sleeves and pulling the tight latex bust and skirt down over her breasts and upper thighs. She added a little lace choker with little jingling silver bells attached, then she took off the headband and put it on Samantha's motionless head.

Barbie walked off to some corner of the store, and returned with a pair of shoulder-length latex gloves as well as thigh-high stockings, each with a frill of lace around their openings, and with tiny bells on a lace cuff around the gloves' wrists. She couldn't believe she'd had a third layer of latex over so much of her body, but Barbie slid the gloves on her arms, then tossed the stockings on the ground.

"Fuck it, you put these on then remain at attention. I doubt you'll get yourself in trouble, so I'll relax the suit," Barbie pressed a button on her tablet, which Samantha noticed for the first time was strapped to her forearm so the woman could use both her hands without setting the device down. Always clever, these HaremCo designers.

Barbie walked off again and Samantha's arms collapsed out of the air as her suit suddenly stiffened. She'd never get used to just suddenly losing the support of the suit holding up her limbs. She stood up and dutifully slid the white latex stockings up to the middle of her thigh, the lace ending a couple inches below her short, ruffled skirt. The stockings squeezed her thighs and the dress hugged her ass and hips tightly, while the dress' padded cups pressed her rubbery breasts upward and together. Every curve was being omnidirectionally squeezed, and Samantha got the surreal feeling of being the last little bit of paste in a tube of toothpaste, compressed as hard as possible but unable to squeeze out of her rubbery confinement.

She must have looked an absolute sight. But then, she thought, there was no real reason to be embarrassed. Unless Barbie told someone who she was, or the person in question was Dominic, to all the world she was just an anonymous doll, not the famous Samantha Steele. The anonymity was dehumanizing, sure, but there was a certain security in anonymity. The opportunity to act shamelessly, and to cast aside the boundaries of your personality.

Barbie once again entered her field of view, and she was glad she was standing at attention. She hadn't thought about it, and only just realized it, but she'd naturally adopted the pose and held it instinctively. That was good. The better conditioned she was, the safer she was. And the more likely she was to be rewarded. Her thoughts drifted to the feeling of Barbie licking her rubber asshole, and her face heated up inside her mask, appalled that she had chosen to remember that particular moment out of everything.

But the doll didn't blush, she thought, and the doll had no reason to. It was a toy, only a 'she' for sexual purposes. The doll had no reputation to uphold, no self-image, just the attention of its owner to worry about.

It was the doll that had her asshole eaten by a crazy woman and loved it, Samantha told herself. Samantha, herself, had no reason to be ashamed of it. It felt nice. Didn't she deserve that?

Barbie approached Samantha and tossed a pair of black high heels with buckles on the ankle that sported little padlocks, as well as large round bells on the toes, and tiny ones on either side of the ankle. Between her neck, ankles, and wrists, her every movement would jingle and broadcast her activity to whoever was around. Barbie could hear, for example, if she'd stopped working to take a break, or if she were furiously playing with her vibrator-enhanced plastic pussy. That was diabolical. Plus, she'd be working in heels. Ugh.

She dutifully bent down and put on the heels, buckling them tightly around her ankle and locking the little padlocks in place. With a small chorus of tingles, like a tiny windchime in a breeze, she straightened herself back up and stood at attention. Her toes scrunched together, her ankles wobbled slightly on the thin stilettos, and her calves were already straining mildly from standing in the heels.

"Too bad you're probably not coordinated enough for ballet boots," mused Barbie, "I just got an 8-inch pair delivered the other day. They're so tall, it’s ridiculous, and I've been dying to try them out. But you'd topple in seconds. Don't worry, we'll get you there."

Samantha hoped they didn't get her there. Then she caught herself hoping, and stopped. It would only hurt her. She'd just have to get better at walking in heels. Then it would be easy, plus she'd please her Mistress.

"Now open up, then bite down hard on this, and close your lips around it."

Barbie produced a large, fluffy feather duster with multicolored neon plumage and a thick, knobbly plastic grip. Samantha opened up and Barbie slid the end of the handle a few inches into her mouth. The ridges in the handle pressed like hard little bubbles into Samantha's rubbery tongue, and she bit down with her soft mouthguards, able to grip the handle well but unable to dig in with the soft rubber shielding her teeth. She closed the rubber lips of the newmouth around the handle, forming a pink 'o' shape around the inch and a half wide, contextually phallic grip of the flamboyant cleaning implement.

As soon as she did so, she felt her cheeks, lips, and even the inside of her mouth stiffen up, and a soft whimper stayed, thankfully, trapped in her stuffed rubber mouth. Samantha had suspected that the mouth of her suit might have the same nano technology as its body, and it turned out she was right: Barbie just hadn't been using it before. Her tongue had been stiff and cumbersome with the newmouth already, but now it was paralyzed, her mouthguards and rubber lips clamped down on the handle and locked in place by the stiffened nano-weave. It was difficult to swallow with her tongue paralyzed, but she managed, with difficulty, since the newmouth didn't extend into her throat, terminating instead in a small round opening at the back of her mouth.

"Isn't that cool? The stiffen function has more than just a full-body pose mode," Barbie gushed about the tech as she keyed in more commands on the tablet, "you can control specific parts as well. Speaking of which, curl your fingers back for me, all girly-like, like you're looking at your nails. You know what I'm talking about, right?"

Samantha knew where this was going, but she had no choice. She curled her fingers and thumbs back, unconsciously actually miming looking at her nails like she'd just had them painted. It seemed an appropriately girly gesture for the Dollhouse, and for a woman like Barbie. Also, for a hyper-feminine French maid, she thought, if she could somehow work without using her hands.

Her hands froze up just as her mouth had, her fingers now splayed and useless, trapped in a comically effeminate pose. She put her hands to her face in a silly 'oh, no!' gesture, which, while humiliating, worked perfectly with the pose frozen on her hands. Be the doll, she thought. She knew Barbie would like it.

Barbie erupted in a fit of giggles, "oh my God, you're really too much! 'Oh no, I made a silly mistake on my first day as a maid! How'd I get this feather duster stuck in my mouth?' Heeheehee…what a wonderful toy you're turning out to be. You know what? I think I'll name you. I only name the toys that interest me, and while that's a minority, I'm starting to find it difficult not to repeat names. Let's see, what's a good one for you…"

Samantha played along shamelessly, content to let the role of the doll dictate her actions. She was really starting to compartmentalize what she did and what the doll did. She bounced excitedly in place, her expressive hands making her look even giddier, and asked, "mmmmmMMMMMM?!" She was the picture of eagerness to receive her new name.

She wasn't Samantha Steele, debasing herself with a duster in her mouth for a woman who'd locked her in a gimpsuit. It would feel terrible to be that.

She was a blonde who wore pink lipstick Samantha could never pull off. She was a French maid, her first day on the job, flustered and overwhelmed by her new duties. She was a rubber doll, an object with a clear purpose, and she was fulfilling her purpose.

She wasn't ashamed of herself, she was proud. She'd been stopping herself from feeling that pride, she realized, out of another sense of misplaced hubris. The woman she'd been before would have been ashamed NOT to feel ashamed now, but she was becoming a new person. Actually, right now, she wasn't even a person. She didn't have to be.

She realized she'd only been telling herself that her eagerness to be named was an act, a sly ploy by a trapped woman to ingratiate herself to her captor. Telling herself that had preserved the dignity of a former self that no longer served her goals, nor her desires.

She clapped the palms of her hands together in genuine anticipation, as her Mistress visibly pondered her decision, clearly milking the moment and enjoying her toy's piqued curiosity. She repeated her wordless question, "MMM? MM, MMM, MMM?"

The feathers danced in a bright neon swirl in front of her face, and the bells on her choker and wrist cuffs jingled softly as she bounced up and down in excited anticipation.

"Let's call you Mimi, the maid doll. How do you like that, Mimi?"

"Mm, mmmmmmm. MMMMMM!!!" Mimi jumped in the air as she cheered and applauded through the ringing of bells on her limbs and neck, the soft, musical jingling and the light flutter of the bright feathers punctuating the joyous exclamation. Mimi had just been named, and she loved it. It would be so much easier to stay in character if she called herself Mimi. The greenhorn maid-doll was determined to refer to herself only as Mimi in her own head until her owner told her otherwise. And if she never did, she'd be Mimi for life. That was the safest mindset.

"All right, I'm glad you like it. Now, that's enough," Mimi squealed as the vibroshock nodes shocked her clit and her spot, then shocked her repeatedly in several short bursts even after she straightened to attention and fell mute. It hurt, but she was proud of herself for reacting properly, and for staying quiet after the first shock.

"Good doll, Mimi. Now, before you get started cleaning, let's let Mittens out of her cage so she can meet the new maid at her Master's house. I bet you'll be cleaning up lots of her messes, won't you, Mimi?"

Mimi followed Barbie back to the kennel where Mittens might well have been sleeping. The rubber kitty lay curled up and motionless, breathing softly and slowly, without reaction to anything going on with her vibroshock, whether or not the random pattern was still activated.

Barbie banged on the cage, and Mittens jolted up onto her knees and her padded mitts, letting out a startled, "MRAWR!"

"The fuck did you just say to me?"

"Mew, mew-mew-mew, mee-yawr, prrrrrrrr…" Mittens said, licking the back of her paw with her decorative plastic tongue and trying to look innocent and cute.

"That's better, Mittens," said Barbie, "now, if I let you out of this cage, the most important thing is for you to stay in character. If for one moment you spoil my perfect fantasy Dollhouse by acting like some scared captive or an indignant feminist trapped in a suit, rather than a cute, innocent, silly little kitten, I will lock your ass back up in an instant. Make your decision now, even in your own head, whether you're going to be Mittens, and come out to play with your princess owner and her comely maid, or be a bitter, cynical 'that girl' in a cage. What'll it be?"

It sounded like Barbie was describing to Mittens the choice that Mimi had just made for herself. Mimi felt a rush of pride in knowing that she'd aligned herself with her Mistress' philosophy, and was more convinced than ever that every lesson her Mistress taught her, however cruel it seemed, was all to teach her.

She hoped Lisa would choose to be Mittens. Mimi could see so clearly in this moment that her friend would be happier playing with her as Mittens than suffering in a cage as Lisa.

Mittens cocked her head to the side and pawed cutely at the door of her cage, mewling out, "mya-mya-myah, meee-yow?" she was getting good at using her voicebox to babble out expressive feline banter. Mimi was overjoyed that the kitty was seemingly embracing the new voice that came with her assigned identity. Maybe they'd have a happy future together, the three of them. A tiny bit of Samantha crept back in, reminding Mimi that it was only for the day. Still, there was no use worrying about how soon it would be till her duties were over. Mimi was taking over until then.

"Very good. Now be a good kitty and heel, staying right beside me after I open the cage."

The door creaked open and Mittens padded out, nuzzling her cheek against Barbie's leg and curling her body to rub it alongside her Mistress' calf as she exited the kennel. She purred softly and craned her head up to find Barbie's face with the tiny pinholes in her feline cartoon eyes.

"Well, look who woke up on the right side of the bed," Barbie scratched Mittens' ears and the kitty purred louder, then let out a whining mewl as the scratches activated her vibroshock. It must have felt good to be petted after being locked away for such a long time. God, it felt like hours and hours since they'd come up the winding staircase and entered Barbie's domain.

"I'm so glad you two are finally suited up. We're going to have sooo much fun in my very own real-life dollhouse! Even playing's a little tiring, though," said Barbie with an exhausted sigh that surprised Mimi. Her Mistress so rarely showed any signs of slowing down. But, it had been an arduous and intricate process, getting the whole suite of gear on the pair of them and explaining their roles so thoroughly, while dispensing lasting lessons in submission all along the way. Even Barbie's indefatigable girlish whimsy had a natural limit, she supposed.

Barbie's face snapped back to its wicked grin, a complete and instant return to character, and full vigor. So, maybe not much of a limit. The woman was too crazy to run out of steam.

"I'll have to get you two dressed faster next time. Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

Barbie giggled as Samantha popped back up momentarily in Mimi's mind in sheer astonishment that the long eons of dressing and training and kenneling seemed short to the woman.

"Can you believe it's already almost eleven A.M.? An hour and a half just to dress a kitty and a doll. I hope you know your Mistress will expect you to speed up in any future sessions."

Samantha was back.

An hour and a half? That was all?

Their day had barely started. Even if they made it back to their group meeting after 7, the eternity it had seemingly taken to transform into their suited personas had only been a fraction of their time with Barbie.

Holy shit.

All right, back in my brain, you little blonde maid-doll, Samantha thought for what she hoped would be the last time in quite a while.

I'm going to need your help to get through this, Mimi.