Contemporary Europe Story: Master of Puppets

Whilst this story is named after an album by Metallica, all the characters in it are fictional and not based on anyone who actually exists or existed. This story features mind control, body piercing and transformation. Though the latter two are not things I usually go in for in my stories, this is one of my favourite compositions.

Master of Puppets
by Tang.

Coming out of college, Sian had no idea what she wanted to do, however, she had had a lucky break: Tom, a man she had known vaguely from when she had been on the college newspaper team, offered her a job on the new magazine he had started. Sian took the job immediately, telling herself it would pass the time and bring in a reasonable wage to help clear her student debts until she had decided the direction she was going to go in. It was only on the first day when she had arrived at Tom’s office in her best charcoal grey reporter’s suit that she realised what the magazine covered. Amongst the few other staff she stuck out, they were clad in tour teeshirts and tight jeans and Ally, the only other woman on the team, looked the archetypal rock chick. It turned out Tom had thought it had been Sian who had penned a series of reviews of rock bands that had played at the college and local bars, under the pseudonym of ‘Raven Minx’, when all along she had in fact been covering the reports of some of the college’s more obscure sports with just her initials on the tagline. However, Sian was not keen to pass up the job and represented her suit as a first-day joke. The next day she was back in jeans and a plain teeshirt, the closest her wardrobe had to what her colleagues wore. That first week Sian put herself on a crash course of learning the differences between nu metal, old school metal, thrash, glam, black and death, and her small flat echoed to the raucous sounds of a stack of compilation CDs. As it was, the rest of the team were generally too busy getting the magazine off the ground to notice her or her lack of specific knowledge. Tom was a tolerant boss and recognised that any new employee needed time to adjust.

The second week at her new job had ended. Sian had spent the time working on gig listings, a comparatively easy job she could do over the phone to local venues and others in neighbouring big cities. In the evenings she had thrown herself into her education. Being out every night of the week, seeing a dozen rock bands, had left her with the tangle-haired, caffeine-fuelled appearance that fitted in with those of her workmates.

“Sian, or do you prefer Raven or maybe Minx?” Tom asked lightly that Friday morning as he came up to the desk.

“Whatever, you’re boss.”

“Sure.” Tom smiled, clearly realising he quite liked that fact, however short-term it might be.

“Well, I think you’ve spent enough time at your desk, you’ve got the gig diary work down to a fine art, so I think it’s time you got out interviewing. I’ve got a good one lined up for you, it’ll let you stretch your writing muscles too. I’ve been talking with Erik Salvensen, you know him? He drinks in ‘The Magpies’ occasionally. Anyway, you know his ‘Grafted Corpse’ have supported some of the big names, well he says Jed Coulson’s moved into the area. The Corpse supported his last tour about eight years ago and Erik keeps in touch. I’ve got Coulson’s address and number. I thought you could go up there and do a feature, you know something like ‘rock god at rest’; ‘on the seventh day’, something like that. It’ll be a real break for the ‘zine. Erik gave him a call while we were in the pub last night, and Jed’s up for it, so they’ll be no problems at the door. The thing is, are you up for it?”

Sian nodded, exuding the false enthusiasm she had become expert at since coming to work for Tom. She had no idea who ‘Grafted Corpse’ were, let alone Erik Salvensen or even Jed Coulson, but she was sure that an afternoon’s internet surfing would fill in the gaps soon enough and come sunrise she could appear his greatest fan. “No worries, Tom, I’ll get on the case. You want it by Thursday?”

“Sure. Call him now, Erik said it’d be best if you went by early tomorrow afternoon. Jed’s got a party there in the evening, so we know he’ll be at home and at least sober until the guests turn up.” Tom put a scrap of paper with a phone number and an address on it, on Sian’s desk.

“Right, I’m on it.”

“Great, it’ll be good to have a long piece from you. This mag’s about promoting the talent of everyone who works for it, not just my ego,” Tom laughed warmly, “and we need to get yours out there on show.”

Sian felt truly touched by Tom’s words and was eager to do her best. Maybe some day soon she would make the best rock chick reporter around. She felt surprisingly excited by the thought, maybe all the CDs and gigs were swaying her opinions and the chamber music CDs she had previously favoured would ultimately be consigned to the dustbin.

“I’m on it.” Sian repeated, gave a mock salute and smiled broadly.

Tom nodded, smiling and drifted back to his office.

In seconds Sian was typing Jed Coulson’s name into the search engine and punching his number into the telephone. After five rings a woman with a posh voice and a lisp answered and confirmed Sian was expected the following afternoon. Putting the phone down, Sian knew she had about twenty-four hours to become a Jed Coulson expert.


Sian got out of her small car self-consciously. Partly it was the large mansion that rose from the gravelled driveway in front of her. Partly it was the fact that this was a real test, her first interview with a real celebrity. A large part of it, though, was how she was dressed, she was sure Jed would recognise her clothes as straight from the shop that morning. The ‘BloodRain’ teeshirt still smelt of its wrapper, the studded belt below it shone as shop new, like the new leather thonged necklace and the silver rings which covered her fingers. The biker leather jacket and the matching leather jeans with their pristine laces down the side were all too unworn and had not shaped to Sian’s body. Even the leather boots she wore squeaked. At least her matted hair and her pale, sleep-deprived features were authentic. Sian walked up the steps to the front door, liking the feel of the tight leather that had warmed as it pressed to her.

Sian rang the bell and the door was almost immediately opened by a woman a couple of years older than herself. Her milk-white skin contrasted with the polished black leather she wore: a shiny corset that cinched her waist and thrust up her firm breasts above a miniskirt that did little beyond cup her bum, and patent ankle boots with spike steel heels. Lush black hair, done in a plait, stretched all the way to her waist.

“Sian Moore.”

“Come in.” The woman said and stepped aside.

Sian walked through the door into the entrance hall. It echoed to her and the woman’s footsteps. Sian looked up the broad staircase in front of her, painted in spiralling shades of red rather than the usual white. The stone floor was inlaid with a mosaic of BloodRain’s symbol picked out in tiles of their distinctive russet shade.

“Impressive.” Sian said.

The woman did not reply, she just walked on to a side door and Sian followed. They went through a lounge fitted with huge leather sofas in different shades, that russet again plus midnight blue and varieties of black. Expensive video and audio equipment and extreme modern art paintings lined the walls. Sian felt that even if you did not like his choices Jed Coulson had a taste and satisfied it without becoming tawdry like so many retired rock stars.
The woman went up to what looked like a stretch of wall, then reached out and pressing it in a particular location caused a panel to slide open. It revealed steps leading down.

“Down into the dungeon.” Sian joked.

“No, the entrance to that is off the day room.” The woman responded without humour.
Sian followed the woman down into a basement room. It was lit by recessed lamps and had a surprisingly warm glow about it. The walls were painted terracotta and the floor was again tiled with the swirling pattern.

“Thank you, Dalia.”

As Sian’s eyes adjusted to the subterranean light she heard the voice she guessed was that of Jed Coulson. She quickly glanced around the room. Along the walls were a few more paintings, most abstract, plus a photograph of an Oriental man. A life-sized statue of a dancing girl that Sian guessed came from Indonesia stood to one side, a large wooden sideboard in the corner and intricately carved wooden screens ran along another wall and in the corner nearest them stood a full-length mirror. There was a semi-circle of formal wooden chairs in the centre of the room grouped around what looked like a metal sink unit and a barber’s chair. Lounging on this was Jed. He was familiar to Sian from numerous shots she had found on websites. He looked about a decade younger than his years, his hair still long and dark, and undyed by the look of it. His frame was still lean and his face had the characteristic lines that he had always had, but no additional ones. Sian wondered if he spent most of his time frozen in suspended animation deep in these underground parts of the mansion. He could easily have walked on stage as he was, dressed with a studded belt slung across the hips of his tight leather trousers that ran into clompy boots. Only the long maroon-coloured heavy brocade jacket, stretching almost to his knees and the plain white shirt he wore it over seemed to diverge from a rock uniform.

“Mr. Coulson...” Sian said tentatively.

“Call me Jed, Sian.”

“...yes, Sian Moore.” She said, her stride broken by Jed’s interjection.

“Also known as Raven Minx, though I always thought Rachel Milner wrote those articles and I know she is now in New York.”

“Yes, she did, there was some mix up.” Sian replied, a little unnerved by Jed’s knowledge.

“And you seem to have done quite well out of it.”

“It got me a job.” Sian replied, a little defiant.

“Yes, that can be tough these days: to get started.” Jed said, his attitude softening to real sympathy. “So you get the chance to interview me, you are the lucky one.” Jed tone was now cheery.

“Yes, thank you for seeing me. I know you must be busy.”

“Not really, I’m retired you know. I have a few hobbies to keep me occupied, but it’s nothing on playing ten cities in twelve days.”

“Right. Well, that’s the angle we’d like to take, as my boss said, looking into the ‘rock god at rest’.”

Jed laughed. “That’s good. Well, let’s get started. Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the formal chairs.

Sian sat where directed and started up her recorder balanced on her knee. “It’s been eight years since you last toured, how do you fill your days?”

“Well, I still travel a lot, you can’t be on the rock scene for twelve, fifteen years without making friends all over the place. I hang out here, I host parties. I read a lot.”

“What kinds of things?”

“All sorts, a lot of philosophy, psychology, magic.”

“Sounds pretty heavy.”

Jed shrugged. “Well, a lot of these things I have been thinking about for years. Most bands like ours take various stances on things, how we feel about war, racism, that sort of thing, sometimes it comes out in the music, sometimes it’s just bubbling under.”

“BloodRain never really had a satanic image did it?”

“No.”

“But it used dark iconography.”

“Iconography? Good word, it’s nice to have a literate interviewer.” Jed smiled. “Yes, you see it around us even here, to me, it was more than just style, it was a representation of things I hold dear.”

“Would you consider yourself a pagan?”

“Certainly, that’s the box I would tick on the census. I don’t think anyone can go to the rural spots of this country or any other and not realise there is a force coursing through it, that it is a power, a very strong power.”

“Something you worship?”

“Let’s say respect, and explore.”

“So, to you, natural powers are important.”

“Yes, not only in the land, but in people too, and that is something I explore here.”

“Do you subscribe to any particular philosophy? Who is your guru?”

Jed laughed, but nodded, as Sian had expected, in the direction of the photograph of the Oriental man. “Luo Zhijian.” Jed said. “I probably have the largest collection of his original writings that there is. I used to spend a few months with him every year. He died three years ago.”

“Right.” Sian said, trying to work out how to spell the guru’s name.

“And Sabal Chandrasekar, I’m in regular contact with him and was out seeing him in Madras just last month.”

“Could you summarise what they teach?”

Jed laughed again, lightly. “They teach the reading of people and their personalities, how to measure people, and how to adjust what you measure.”

“Could you give me an example?”

“Yes, I suppose so. It’s probably easier to show the abilities they have helped me develop in practice rather than trying to explain them. That way I’m sure you’ll see what I mean.”
“Right. Okay, go on. Let’s give it a shot.” Sian said, more than a little curious.

Jed sat forward on his chair, closed his eyes and bowed his head. His breathing slowed and Sian found she was straining to hear it in the silent room and as she did, the rhythmic pattern calmed her. Then Jed snapped his eyes open and looked directly at her.

“You like to please, don’t you Sian? I can see that. I’ve had a lot of reporters through my door over the years, male and female, and they all think about themselves and what they can get out of it. Even the ones from the rock magazines, come in pressing their personalities, dressed with teeshirts from the bands they’re pushing at the moment, or something classic so that they look cool. But, you, I feel you’re different. You dressed for me, you got yourself nice new leathers to come and see me, you got yourself a teeshirt of my last band. That’s what I like to see, especially in an attractive woman like yourself.”

Sian blushed a little. She guessed Jed was playing with her, a lot of these rock stars were smooth talkers, they played a role, different roles, all the time. This smooth and hard image was clearly how Jed wanted to portray himself to the world through Tom’s magazine, for someone else it might be something different. However, Sian had to admit that she did feel flattered and her discomfort at dressing the way she had, had instantly faded and she was now pleased at all the choices she had made that morning.

“So, you are good at reading people.”

“Reading their minds.”

“Okay, reading their minds. But what can you do with that?” Sian was interested to hear Jed’s explanation. Superficially what he was saying seemed like some typical pop psychology mumbo-jumbo, but his conviction in it made her feel there had to be strands of truth within it.

Jed continued. “You know the mind has different components, things like will, consciousness, identity. I have always had an interest in all of those, and since I’ve stopped touring I have learnt how to manipulate them all.”

“Manipulate?”

“Yes, alter, change, control. That is what occupies much of my time.”

“You can alter people’s minds? Control them?” Sian was fascinated, if a little sceptical, she had read enough interviews to know that rock stars were quite likely to sound off about the latest esoteric fad.

Jed just nodded.

“Could you give a demonstration?” Sian asked, trying not to sound too eager.

“What sort of demonstration would you like? On one of my staff?” Jed raised his gaze slowly so it fixed on Sian. “How about on you?”

“Erm.” Sian hesitated, she wondered what she was letting herself in for.

“I know, why not yourself and one of my staff, fair’s fair. I’ll give you a demonstration of identity exchange.” Jed gave a mercurial smile, as if an idea was bubbling up. “I’ll switch you with Cella and then you’ll see how you would have appeared if you really had wanted to dress the way I like. Does that sound a good idea?”

“Erm, yes. I suppose so.”

Jed laughed, not unkindly. “You know so.” He strode up to Sian quickly, his hands extended before him and put them either side of Sian’s forehead, his fingers just touching gently.

Sian could feel warmth coming from Jed’s fingers as he stood there, his head bowed and his eyes closed. Then he snatched his right hand away and jerked it to point across the room to where the carved wooden screens stood. In that instant Sian had the strange feeling as if a sheet had been pulled from over her head. There was a moment of darkness and then she felt everything had calmed.

Sian felt strange. Her body felt constricted. She was standing in a room with weak light, shafts of it shining on to her. She looked down and gasped. In that instant she believed everything that Jed had told her. Gone were the teeshirt, the leathers, the new boots, instead her body was caressed by a skin-tight black rubber catsuit that glistened wherever the light hit it. Her body was cinched in at the waist by a shiny corset and her legs ran into thigh-length boots, rising on sharp heels that to Sian seemed impossibly high. As Sian moved her head she felt her plait running over her rubber coated back, and a slight breeze on the shaved sides of her head. Plait? Shaved sides? This was insane. Self-consciously Sian lifted her hand, noting her sharp black nails emerging from the fingerless gloves. She ran her hand over her head. Her hair rose into a crest then ran down her back as the long plait, but the sides were shaved, and somehow she knew the bare skin was tattooed with intricate patterns. As she stood there familiarising herself with the body she now wore she noticed other changes, the piercings that gave a weight to her tongue and to her nose, that tantalised her nipples as the rubber shifted gently over the studs, that rested in her brow and most of all that rode in the hood of her clit, teasing her with body warm metal on her clitoris every time she moved her legs.

“Sian.” Jed called.

Sian looked ahead and saw through the pattern of the carved wooden screen. Jed stepped up to it and pulled a panel in it open.

“Do you like it? Or should I say, do you like being Cella?”

Sian stepped forward, finding it surprisingly easy to walk in the heels. She loved the way the rubber rippled around her as she moved.

“Take a look.” Jed gestured to the full-length mirror.

Sian strode to it and looked. The image was that of a succubus. As she had determined, she was clad from head to toe in second-skin black rubber and the shaved parts of head were tattooed with lovely patterns. Silver rode her brow, her nose, her tongue. A pure metal collar sat around her neck with a ring at the front that Sian knew must be for a leash.

“Wow.” Sian said, the stud in her tongue modifying her speech to a lisp. “Amazing illusion.”

“No illusion. As I said, you’ve got Cella’s body. She was one of my so-called post-career groupies. This is how she dresses. I’ll see how she likes walking around in your body.”

Jed turned and Sian looked the way he was now staring, back to where she had been sitting just moments before. Correction, where she was still sitting. There was Sian Moore, dressed in her new leathers, her tape machine in her hand.

“Cella. What do you think of Sian’s body?”

“Master, it is undeveloped, there is so much more that could be done with it. She has only began to recognise her sexuality. These leathers are not bad. She could improve if she became yours, learned to serve you as this slave does.”

Sian stood speechless. It was unbelievable to hear someone else speaking with her voice, in her body. In her body. This was impossible. Sian shook her head and pinched herself.

“Show me how she should behave to me then.” Jed said.

“Yes, Master.” Cella lowered herself to the floor and crawled over to Jed. She turned Sian’s pert leather clad backside upwards for Jed to view before kneeling upwards. She slid off the jacket and teeshirt and, in moments, the bra beneath. Slowly she eased the leather jacket back on her naked top, and sat kneeling, clearly subservient to Jed.

“Master, does this slave please you? Can i please you?”

Jed smiled. “Yes, but first we have to get you dressed just right, just like Cella here. You’d like that wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, Master.”

Jed laughed. “That’s very good. That is just how I would like Sian to be.”

Sian had been watching as if in a dream, it was all so unreal, but as she saw herself abasing herself in front of Jed her borrowed body became excited, her clit becoming rigid against the stud, her juices running wet.

“Sian, what do you think?” Jed turned to her.

Sian shook her head, it was all rather bewildering but she tried to focus. “A great trick Jed. What’s all this master and slave stuff?”

“Ah, I thought that’d interest you. You know I said there are different parts of the mind.”

“Yes, I remember, identity, consciousness, will.”

“Good girl. Well, you’ve seen how I can manipulate identity and consciousness, well I also have the power over will. Cella is totally committed to me, she can do nothing but obey me, she has no will, just my commands.”

“Oh.”

“Aren’t you going to ask for a demonstration of that too?” Jed asked.

Sian began to panic. She looked down at the subservient woman that looked like her and began to worry Jed could truly enslave her.

“Wouldn’t you like me to strip you of your will, turn you into one of my pets? You like to please: I knew you were ideal when you stepped in here, now I am going to see that I was right.”

Sian began running as best she could on the heels, but then something stopped her, there was no need to run. Her steps slowed and she turned to look back at Jed. She realised there was a curiosity inside her, she did want to stay here, she did want to find out what he would do. Sian found herself walking back to Jed, enjoying the way the rubber felt, enjoying how the studs touched her body, how she was striding on these heels.

“Did I tell you that I can also control desires?”

At that moment Sian felt the urge to kiss him flow right through her body and in seconds she had grasped him, pressing the rubber clad body she wore against him. probing deep into his mouth with her studded tongue. Sian broke from him, gasping with a sensation of pleasure.

“Excellent. You are just perfect. However, I think Cella wants her body back.”

Sian was powerless as Jed pressed his hands to her forehead. Then, again she felt as if the wrapping had been cast off. As her vision cleared she realised she was not in her own body. She tried to move but was unable, her body felt numb. It was not uncomfortable, just strange, again as if she was seeing it all in a dream. She realised she was by the wall. Jed and Cella were kissing and Sian realised how envious she was of Cella, how totally erotic she, and what she wore, were. Sian tried to dismiss the thought, guessing it had been planted by Jed, but somehow knowing that was not true.

Sian saw her own body, standing, its eyes closed and she guessed it was now just a shell. She panicked, fearing Jed had just trapped her here as she realised he must have moved her mind into the statue of the dancing girl by the wall. Sian was unable to look away as Jed and Cella led her unresisting body to the chair Jed had recently vacated. Sian could not look anywhere else, could not even blink her eyes and was unnerved looking at herself walking around, but something now was dulling the panic, and instead she was intrigued, fascinated by what would happen. In moments Sian’s body was laid in the barber’s chair. Then Dalia came into view and she and Cella began removing the remainder of Sian’s clothes. Jed stepped up to Sian’s naked, relaxed body. He lent forward delicately running his fingers over her naked breasts. Jed produced a hypodermic and pressed it Sian’s near side breast and emptied its contents. He set down a large bottle of a cloudy liquid on a space on the chair and filled the syringe three times more and injected into her other breast and in turn to the two cheeks of her bum. He rested, capped the hypodermic and stepped back.

Sian watched, believing what she saw to be a dream, believing what she saw to be real. It reminded her so much of preparing a corpse or of readying someone for prosthetic make-up to play an alien. Thinking that, she thought of the reflection she had seen of herself as Cella the Succubus. As Sian’s thoughts rushed she barely noticed the gradual but steady growth and firming of her breasts and bum. Her attention returned as she watched Jed take a seat and tuck the syringe back into a wallet that disappeared from sight. Now Sian looked as Dalia stepped up and turned and lowered the barber’s chair so that Sian’s head was over the sink unit. She pulled out a nozzle on a flexible metal tube and proceeded to shampoo and wash then dry Sian’s hair. Meanwhile Cella moved around Sian’s body and Sian realised she was piercing it and inserting silver rings and studs, in both nipples, her tongue, her brow and around the rims of her ears. They were soon bright points of light on her body. Sian was initially indignant that they were tampering with her body this way, no-one had asked her consent, but quickly that thought faded, replaced with remembrance of what they had felt like in Cella’s body and an eagerness to feel the sensation of the piercings for herself.

Sian’s attention was snatched away as somehow she heard an electric razor buzzing, Dalia was operating it. Quickly it made her pubis naked allowing Cella to pierce her labia and clitoral hood placing studs in both. Then Sian was unsurprised but excited as she knew Dalia was following up shaving the sides of Sian’s head, then plaiting her hair, shorter than her own, but long enough to allow Dalia beginning to make it a match for Cella’s style. In moments more the tattooing began, the intricate pattern a replica of one of BloodRain’s in the same russet shade.


Sian had no sense of how much time was passing. Like a dream she would notice changed features about her body, viewing Dalia and Cella’s work very much as Jed did, sitting, looking entranced from one of the formal chairs. Now she noticed a long plant-like tattoo spiralling up from her navel to her breasts. Then she saw Cella return from the screens first with a rubber catsuit then shiny thigh-length boots like her own. Sian watched as Cella and Dalia eased Sian’s body into its own rubber catsuit, the same russet browny-red colour that had characterised so much of BloodRain’s iconography. She could only watch as the rubber crept slowly up her body. It sealed her thighs, her bum, her bare pussy lips, her waist, her tattooed midriff, her back, then over her firm breasts, their nipples erect, to slide clinging up her arms to come together at the her neck. Dalia slid the zip closed shutting Sian’s body into its second russet skin, revealing every line, every curve of Sian’s flesh, but now coloured a glistening autumnal shade. Dalia began to paint Sian’s nails and then her lips the same distinctive reddy-brown. As Cella buckled the leather corset around Sian’s body, pulling in her waist and further accentuating her enlarged breasts, Sian realised that if she was ever to gain control of her body she would find herself looking like little more than a sexual toy, tailored precisely to Jed’s tastes. Sian told herself that whatever she looked like on the outside, she would retain the same personality, the same spirit. However, even that belief was shaken by Jed’s claims that he could affect minds as much as he could clearly alter bodies.

Sian could see that the matching rubber thigh-length boots that would be hers were being slid on. Sian could not deny the excitement she felt. From the time in Cella’s body, Sian knew how good the rubber clinging so tightly to her felt, and she felt an eagerness to feel what it was like to have her own. Then all the motion stopped, Cella and Dalia stepped back from Sian’s body and knelt on the ground either side of Jed who stroked his hands over their heads as if they were his pet lionesses. He was clearly looking over the shaved, tattooed, pierced, enhanced, rubber-coated body of Sian. He smiled, clearly pleased with the handiwork. As he rose from his chair and walked towards Sian’s statue, Sian felt a rising tension as she knew it might only be a matter of moments before she found herself in that body.

Jed stopped at the statue, his eyes looking into it. “You wanted to please me, and now you can, we have crafted you into the perfect being for me, the perfect gift for me. How ever much I like a mind, I do feel that it is vital it has a decorous setting to be in: one that clearly shows what that person is. I think your body now does that perfectly. It is that of a woman who burns to please me. Now, take up your body and we can ready you to take up that role.”

Sian was plunged into darkness as Jed grasped the statue’s head. This time she felt as if a heavy blanket had come off her, but in seconds she could blink and could see herself looking up at the ornate ceiling of Jed’s room. As she breathed against the constraints of the corset she could feel the nature of her new body: the piercings that stimulated her breasts and her sex, the stud in her tongue she knew Jed would want to tease him, the scent, the tightness, the slipperiness of the skin-tight rubber that was now her clothing, showing and accentuating every smooth line of her.

Awkwardly Sian shifted and got up from the chair, feeling strange as her boots touched the floor and she felt herself resting on the high heels. It was good to be back in her body, and she had to admit it felt exciting. First Cella and then Dalia came forward and kissed her and Sian recognised that as a sign that they were welcoming her as one of their own.

Sian strode slowly over to the mirror and looked herself over. Her hands cupped her full breasts which were sensitive and kept tingling each time they moved slightly in the smooth rubber. Sian turned back to Jed who stood silently as if watching to see if his experiment worked.

“So what happens now? I go to the press saying how the mad ex-rocker tied me down and shaped me to the way he liked. That will be a scoop, I’ll be on chat shows for the next year.” Sian sneered.

“Oh, don’t worry, you won’t be leaving here for quite a while yet...”

It had been as Sian feared, he planned to imprison her here.

“... and even when you do, you’ll just have lovely things to say about me. Don’t you like how we’ve dressed you, you look so cool.”

Sian had to admit she was impressed by the look, she certainly looked more exotic than she ever could have imagined and wondered how impressed her workmates would be.

Jed walked slowly up to Sian. “The event isn’t over yet. I want you to be happy. I want you to be ecstatic at what you’ve become.”

Sian felt entranced, fascinated to see what Jed would do next. Having seen his power she had no doubt what he could do. Something felt excited by that. Could she truly become a woman like Cella, so clearly erotic, so devoted to her master?

Jed stood in front of Sian but not touching her. He held out his arms level with Sian’s eyes. He locked his hands together and closed his own eyes. Sian felt as if the floor was swaying around her. Then, suddenly Jed flipped his hands over and opened the palms. He seemed to be tugging against something and Sian felt as if a wave had crashed over her. She struggled to stay upright. Likewise Jed seemed to be battling against some physical rather than a mental force. He staggered back, but kept his hands held out, locked and pulling. Sian felt as if energy was being drained from her. Part of her said she could resist, she could escape, but the feelings of her body, shaped by him into that of a living sex toy told her it was too late, she was already his and should let herself ease fully into this pleasurable existence. Sian still felt some urge to struggle, to hold on, but there were seductive voices telling her to yield, to let go and let her master shape her into the most erotic creature, the sexiest woman she could be. Jed whipped back his arms and unlocked his hands, now only his right arm was in front of him.

In these last moments Sian felt as if Jed tugged at her will as if trying to free a sheet of plastic that had snagged on something on the ground, and then it broke. Sian gasped as her free will was totally stripped from her. In an instant she felt terribly relieved, extremely relaxed and grateful. She had no idea what to do and knew she should wait to be told. She looked expectantly at Jed and realised she had the burning desire for him to command her, not only to tell her what to do but to enslave her. Yet he looked tired; he was shaking from his exertions. His left hand was cupped, bouncing up and down as if her were juggling something. Then he lifted his hand and jerked, it was as if he had thrown a ball at Sian. She felt another wave of force, that pushed her back on her sharp heels. Then all was quiet, Sian felt a gratitude pass through her whole body, things had been uncertain and now were clearing. Slowly within her Sian felt changes, it was as if something was seeping into every part of her, shaping her opinions, her attitudes, shaping her identity, all that had been Sian was being subsumed by something new, something pleasurable, the personality that her master had created for her. A personality that loved this crafted body, a personality that could do nothing but obey its master. Any previous existence was fading, memories were washed away and all her old thinking was gone. She felt warm and happy as her new, true identity became fixed and she delighted in her existence.

Jed was breathing heavily and rested, stooped, holding himself up with his hands on his thighs. Cella walked up with a drink, he took it and drained it in one.

“Excellent.” Jed said catching his breath. “Minx.” He added simply.

The rubber-clad woman standing opposite him shuddered with pleasure as at the sound of her name her new personality locked into place. Minx shifted her weight in her tight boots, loving the squeal of the rubber that she wore, loving the sensation of the stud riding on her clit, loving the fact that she was ready to serve her master.

“Minx?”

“Yes, Master.” Minx replied stepping closer to him. “How can this slave serve you?” Sian Moore no longer existed, this woman was simply Minx.

Jed laughed in triumph almost as if he had been uncertain that the transformation would work, but now was more than satisfied.

“Cella, the collar.”

“Yes, Master.”

Cella came over with a metal collar like her own in one hand and a shiny leather leash in the other. As she saw them, Minx felt a thrill run through her as she knew she was going to fully enter slavery to her master and she loved the thought. He had made her so sexy, he was the one who owned her totally.

Jed took the collar and walked the few steps to Minx. He handed it to her. She took it and hesitated feeling unworthy to become so fully her master’s, but he nodded. Minx lifted the slim, metal collar, such a shiny metal, to her neck and closed it with a click. She gasped as her master reached forward and sealed it with a tiny padlock. He then attached the leash to the ring on the collar.

Without saying anything more Jed led his new pet from the room by her leash. She strutted behind him delighting that she so pleased him.

“Cella, Dalia, come.”

Minx’s attention was focused on her master so she paid little attention to where they went. She knelt when her master ordered and found she was in a large bedroom. Jed sat back in a deep armchair and released his flies. His cock emerged in an instant. Minx felt so privileged to see it.

“Minx, suck me off.” He said simply.

Minx did not have to be ordered twice, she slid across the floor on her shiny boots and slowly moved her head between his leathered thighs and gratefully took his cock into her mouth, using her tongue stud to the full, the knowledge of how to expertly please him, coming from somewhere deep within her. She slowed, knowing that it was pleasing him too much, but still eager to drink his spunk when it came. Minx rolled his cock in her mouth, taking it deep then letting it back up to her lips, working with her tongue and its stud, keeping him hovering on the edge of pleasure. Her master was reduced to nothing bar a grunting, shaking sexual creature, wanting to come, but wanting the pleasure prolonged.

“Now.” He finally muttered.

Minx’s tongue lapped a few more times at his cock and it began shooting into her, his legs, his hips crashing against her as he came, but she loved having his flesh, his muscles, his hot scent so close to her. She drank down his semen, grateful for the opportunity. Her immediate task complete Minx slid back from her master and knelt patiently awaiting his next command.

“Shit, that was good, so good. Oh yes, that was the best decision I’ve made in a long time to have you come out here.”

“Cella, Dalia. It’s time to make Minx feel welcome. I want you three to play together whilst I get ready for the party.”

“Yes, Master.” The three chorused.

Minx felt a little disappointed as Jed stepped from the room but in moments she felt Cella’s hands stroking over her bum and Dalia turning Minx over to lie beneath the other two women. Minx quivered with pleasure as tongues and fingers seemed to be everywhere teasing her most sensitive and excitable places. Cella eased down the zip of Minx’s catsuit and latched on to her nipples, knowing how the tease their studs to excite Minx further. Meanwhile Dalia dealt with Minx’s pussy which has become sodden and so loose as Minx had served her master. Dalia’s tongue was soon active, her own stud flicking over Minx’s clit, her fingers parting the lips of her pussy and digging deep. Minx was breathless and no words would come only the grunts and shrill sounds of the playbeing she had become. When the first of a string of orgasms swept her, her back arched as she grasped at the shapely bodies of her sisters in bondage, but they kept her pinned as they worked without pause at pleasing her. Minx had no sense of time, little sense of identity, all she knew was that she was a good rubber-clad slave and that the rewards were this pleasure.


“Come in.” Jed said as Dalia ushered in a tall blond man.

Already there were a few guests making the most of Jed’s large table of alcohol and trays of drugs. A couple were already stripping off and heading to the pool. Loud rock music penetrated throughout the ground floor of the house. Jed was sat in a large armchair, a handful of old friends and admirers grouped around him, Cella and Minx were sitting at his feet, their heads occasionally stroked, the odd snack dropped for them, just like the pets they were.

“Erik.” Jed said warmly jumping to his feet.

The two men locked in an embrace of old friends.

“Erik come and meet my new addition. You know Cella.”

Erik nodded and smiled at Cella.

“This is Minx.”

At the introduction, Minx rose on to her heels, her firm breasts thrust out in their russet rubber coating.

“Minx.” Erik said the name, savouring it as he looked over her shapely body, so obvious in its rubber.

“Minx, this is Erik Salvensen. I want you to look after him all this evening and tonight. He has been a good friend to me especially recently, and to you too, and I want you to reward him. Do whatever he asks.”

“Yes, Master.” Minx said in a pleased tone. She ran her eyes over the rocker, from the leather chaps he wore over his jeans to the black shirt and biker jacket on top. He was tall, blond and had a strength about him, Minx was pleased to be able to serve a man like this. She stepped close to him rubbing her rubbered thighs against his leg.

“I don’t know where you find them.” Erik joked.

“I could say the same to you, I’m just glad that you do.”

The two men laughed. Minx simpered as Erik’s strong hand cupped her bum.

“It’s been a long ride up here, so I think I could do with some relief and then another long ride.”

“Yes, Master.” Minx replied and let herself be led away, her sexy body moving so enticingly with every step she took.

THE END.