Transformation Story: The Intruder

Like many of my stories, this one was inspired by a photograph I saw.  This one features in the story itself, with a little embellishment.  I saw it on the Doug Adams website which discusses many issues such as bimbo training and fetish wear which are themes along the lines of those which turn up in my stories.

The Intruder

By Tang.

“Yes, Case Number 539877.  Yes, my name’s Sarah Brunton.  It’s about Theresa Moran.  I know Detective Inspector Mike Kay’s on the case.”  Sarah tapped her fingers a little impatiently as she went through her fortnightly ritual of finding out if the police had any leads on her friend Theresa’s disappearance.

“Yes, Sarah Brunton.”  She repeated.  “Oh ... you’re Detective Sergeant Rayner, Denise Rayner.  ...  I understand, yes, it’s been just over three months. ... I know clues have been scarce and you have to downgrade priorities.  Yes, but you’re going to cover it on ‘Crimewatch’ aren’t you?  ... Of course I’d appear on it, I know you have to have a ‘face’ for these things and Theresa’s mother’s in no fit state.”

Sarah felt a little frustrated as Rayner went through the explanation, but her attention picked up when the policewoman explained that there was no a good chance that Theresa’s case would be featured on the monthly ‘Crimewatch’ programme, especially if Sarah could appear.  Both of them knew that featuring a crime on that programme usually elicited a lot of responses.  Sarah knew too, that Theresa was just one of hundreds of ‘disappeared’ even if the circumstances were unusual.  Sarah hoped her enthusiasm would get Theresa to the top of the list.

“That’s great to hear.  Thanks, thank you.  I’ll be watching.”

Sarah put down the telephone receiver with a new enthusiasm.  The disappearance of her best friend had been a real blow.  Sarah knew if that even if Theresa had been killed she could have coped with it better.  Seeing her in a hospital or a morgue would be better than this just not knowing.  Too many nightmares of what Theresa might be experiencing haunted Sarah.  She walked away from the telephone and picked up her work bag.  She had gone straight to the telephone the minute she had come in that evening.  She had strictly rationed herself to calling the police just once a fortnight, Monday evenings.  She knew otherwise she would be pestering them constantly and that would do no good for anyone, with Sarah distracting them too much, they might miss something vital.

Sarah made herself some tea and grabbed some biscuits.  Putting them on her coffee table she went to her desk and fetched out her precious mini-disk recorder.  It was a wonderful thing, able to hold hours of sound in something that fitted in her palm.  Since Theresa’s disappearance Sarah had recorded all her thoughts on the matter, she found it therapeutic, more healthy, more focused than letting all the ideas run around in her head, less bizarre than simply talking aloud to herself.  This had some purpose, it got all the bad stuff out of her and into something inanimate, something that seemed to neutralise the badness.  Sarah started recounting her phone conversation with the police.  This recorder was voice-activated, so it did not matter if she fell silent for a while, it would stop and start again when she thought of something new.  She did feel tired.  It had been a tough weekend.  She had ruled out taking any more sleeping tablets, and as a result the nights had been long and restless.

****

Sarah awoke and instantly knew something was wrong.  She felt pressure over her mouth and a strong rubbery smell filled her nostrils.  She struggled but she felt a hand holding her arm firmly. She blinked to see more clearly but the sight which greeted her make her more fearful and she tried to scream, tried to bite against the rubber clad hand on her mouth.  Standing over her was a woman, that much Sarah could make out from the breasts that were pretty close to her face, but she could tell little else.  The woman was masked, only her eyes and mouth showed from beneath the shiny rubber that covered her head and hid her features.  Sarah could take in that the woman was clad in a skin-tight rubber catsuit, it was almost as if she was naked, but her skin a slippery, shiny black.  The whole woman’s appearance was alien and shocking.  Sarah’s mind raced with thoughts of what was happening, trying to think clearly through the fog of fear.

Tiring, Sarah gave up struggling, it was clear the woman was stronger than her.  Sarah also began to wonder that if she yielded the woman might release her grip, giving Sarah a slim chance to escape.  As Sarah slumped back, the woman did respond that way.  She let go of Sarah’s arm then slowly began lifting her hand away from Sarah’s mouth.  Sarah did nothing, hesitating until the woman was clear of her body.

Sarah started bawling at the intruder.  “What do you think you are doing?  Who are you, get out ...”

The rubber-coated woman raised her hand and spoke with a voice that seemed to sound inside Sarah’s head.  “Silence.”

Sarah tried to scream, but no sounds emerged from her throat.  Now panic settled in, this was frightening, it was unnatural, this had to be a nightmare, but the smell of the rubber, the feel of the woman’s hands on her, had been all too real.

Sarah jumped up and lunged towards the woman.  The intruder stepped back on her long sharp heels out of Sarah’s way and pointed back to the sofa.  “Sit.”

Sarah found her charge flagging and decided it was pointless, it was better for her to return to the sofa which she did and sat down.  As she did she found herself waiting to hear what the woman would tell her to do next, she barely realised that she was craving the next order.

“Good.”  The intruder said.  “They are right, you are a difficult one, you seem to have very little obedience in you.”  The figure shook her head slowly as if exasperated by Sarah.  “This you will obey.  You will forget your friend Theresa Moran.  You will cease contacting the police about her immediately.  You will get on with your life, oblivious to the fact that you knew her.”

Sarah’s mind was scrambling.  Why had this strange person been sent to scare her off probing into Theresa’s fate.  Partly she was scared, but partly too she was curious.  This woman did not look like she was dressed like the average criminal, yet, that seemed to be more unnerving.  Just what had Theresa been involved in, where had she gone, what kind of people was she now mixing with?

“Just forget Theresa, forget you even knew her, forget everything you have worried about her, asked about her, forget you have even spoken about her.”  The woman said, softly repeating the phrases over and over.

Sarah felt her mind clearing, the questions were harder to get a grasp on.  What had she been thinking about?  She relaxed back in her seat.  It had been a long day, she was tired, she felt relaxed but weary.  Sarah let her thoughts drift away.

“Rest.”  The woman said firmly, but by now Sarah had fallen asleep.

****

Sarah woke up and glanced at her watch.  She must have fallen asleep when she got in.  She had been working too hard, she needed an early night.  Sarah fixed herself a meal and walked back into the living room.  She sat on the sofa and fished around between the cushions for the TV remote control.  Her fingers touched something.  She snatched it, assuming it was the remote, but out came a min disk recorder.  It seemed to be on, though in standby mode.

Sarah vaguely remembered buying it a few months ago, but she had forgotten what for, she had assumed she had left it in the drawer where she kept her out-of-fashion electrical goods.  Out of curiosity, Sarah played back the last track and heard herself, then in moments another voice, a strange voice, which came over clearly on the recording but seemed not to register on the volume indicator.  As Sarah listened to the exchange between herself and the intruder she felt shocked, memories and with them fear, flooded back.

Sarah listened to the track, trying to picture the woman who had been attempting so hard to make her forget Theresa.  Sarah listened again to check she had somehow not just imagined it.  Yet, here again was the conversation, her leaping up, her being ordered to sit, then the soporific words from the woman, telling her to forget.  Even now Sarah felt a little dazed by them.  Then she jumped up.  Her front door was locked as it had been since she had come in.  There was no sign of entry.  How had the woman got in?  Some former tenant with a key?  That was not important, except in the fact that it would be harder to convince the police someone had come into her flat.  Then she had the recording, it was strange, but it was clear that Sarah had struggled and had been ordered to sit and be quiet, surely that was enough evidence of an intruder.

Sarah hurried to the telephone and called the local police station.  The night shift was on, and Sarah explained she had had a masked intruder in her house, that they had not broken in, they must have picked the lock.  She was not certain they had stolen anything, but it seemed they had been attempting to scare her off from asking about the case of Theresa Moran, yes, the woman who had disappeared.  Yes, it was Detective Sergeant Rayner dealing with the case, and yes, it might be a good idea if she came round the following evening to take Sarah’s statement.

Sarah put the telephone receiver down and slumped back on the sofa.  She felt exhausted.  Fearful thoughts kept on appearing.  She wondered if the intruder would come back.  She shifted an armchair in front of her front door, locked the door to her bedroom and put the largest carving knife she had by her bed.

****

Sarah returned from work.  She immediately bolted and locked the door.  She wondered if she could get the landlord to fit new locks, or better she would do it and send him the bill, her safety was paramount.  She hated the intruder for so quickly making her this paranoid.  She told herself there had been no violence, that was a little consolation, but then she remembered the hand over her mouth and possibly scarier than that, the intruder’s ability to order her around.  Had she been drugged?  She should have got checked by the doctor.  Sarah added that to her list of things to do since last night’s invasion of her flat.

Wearily Sarah walked into the living room, but instantly her senses were shaken awake as she knew something was wrong.  The intruder was back, standing, her hands resting on her impossibly shiny hips as if looking disapprovingly at Sarah.  In fact, not being able to see her face Sarah was uncertain of the intruder’s mood, but something told her it was threatening.

The woman did not wait for Sarah to sit down or even remove her jacket.

“You seem to have learned some lessons from my last visit, but not them all.  I so easily erased any record of your call last night, your mini disk recorder will never work again.  This is your last warning, stop trying to find out what happened to Theresa, forget about her, forget you ever knew her.”

“Or what?”  A bit of defiance rose up in Sarah again.

“Do you really want to find out?”

“Stop toying with me.  I don’t believe your threats, you’re...”  Sarah’s words were choked off.

The intruder held her right hand out in front of her with its fingers grasped as it tightening around something.  Then she changed the gesture to indicate Sarah to approach.  Sarah tried to resist but her body would not obey.  Slowly Sarah stood and walked towards the shiny intruder, each step in time with the woman’s fingers coming back to the palm of her hand.  Then with Sarah within her reach she held up her palm and Sarah stopped walking.  Her mind was frantic, she tried to move, to scream, to do anything that the woman was not commanding her to do.  Fear ran through her as she realised that this was what the intruder was threatening, comply or lose control of her body.  With such power the intruder could make Sarah turn a knife on herself, open an upstairs window and jump out, keep her head below water in the bath, a whole myriad of ways to destroy herself.

The woman pointed to the ground with her finger.  In an instant Sarah fell to her knees and then the woman thrust forward the glistening tip of her boot and Sarah found herself bending over and kissing it.  As she did she felt a tingle of pleasure and she found herself licking sensuously at the gloss.  Sarah realised that the lesson was not over.  Her punishment would not be to destroy herself, instead it would to become this strange woman’s slave, not only totally unable to disobey, but filled with a pleasure at whatever the woman made her do, however alien it was to her personality.  Her punishment would not be over in minutes it would linger for hours, days, months, however long the intruder wanted until she tired of Sarah.

Sarah felt herself kneel upright looking up at the rubber-covered face of the intruder as her hands found the buttons of her blouse.  Quickly they unbuttoned it as the woman made repeated small gestures.  Sarah’s mind was shrieking, wondering at what pleasure the intruder was getting out of forcing Sarah to expose herself this way.  Then she though, with a surprisingly cold rationality, that this was all part of what it was about, forcing Sarah to humiliate herself, to make herself even more vulnerable before the power of this woman.  In a minute Sarah had discarded her blouse and her bra followed suit quickly.  Her hands sought out her breasts, stroking and teasing them in a way she would never had done herself.  The nipples were erect and as gentle sighs emerged from her mouth, Sarah realised the intruder would permit her some sounds, those which she approved of.

As her left hand continued toying with her breasts, her right snatched at her work skirt, pulling hard at it, until the zip began breaking and then the material itself began to tear.  Sarah could not believe she had such strength but driven by this woman, she had soon torn the skirt away.  She realised her plain panties, not even edged with lace were sodden.  Her hand painfully ripped at them too and in moments her pussy was exposed.  Its lips felt as it someone stroked them, stroked them with fingers covered in something slippery.  Her clitoris shuddered as it was licked and teased and Sarah found herself adding her own palm, stroking across her lips and clitoris as she often did, but then beginning to dig deep inside her, something she had refrained from for years.

Suddenly Sarah felt the intruder had let go and she was in control of her own body once more, but by now it was lost to the rising orgasm.  The fact that it had been brought on by this shiny stranger with Sarah unable to stop it, just peaked her more.  There was nothing Sarah could do but keep stroking.  She fell over on to her side, opening her legs to leg her hand get full access to her excited sex.  Grunting, moaning sounds came from Sarah’s throat.

“That’s it, forget, forget.  Think only of pleasure, do not think about matters that are not your concern.  Forget, forget...”  The intruder’s voice came to her ears soporifically.

Sarah felt herself drifting, even the orgasm that came was different to what she was used to, rather than firing up her body and mind, it seemed to deaden them, she was lifted high, but as a result felt she was above every day life, closed off from its concerns and unable to get back.

****

The bell rang and Sarah went to the door.  A smartly dressed woman in her early thirties stood there.  She was a little taller than Sarah and carried herself with what seemed like a military bearing.

“Sarah?  Sarah Brunton?”

“Erm, yes, that’s me.”  Sarah said cautiously.

“I’m Denise Rayner, Detective Sergeant Rayner.”  The woman explained pulling out her i.d.  “We spoke on the ‘phone about a month ago.  It’s about Theresa.”

“Theresa?”

“Theresa Moran, your friend.”

The names seemed to echo distantly in Sarah’s mind, but it was if this detective was referring to people from her childhood.

“Er, yes.”  Sarah was happy to go along with whatever the woman said, she had found it was easier to deal with things that way.  Most people knew what they wanted, a lot better than she did, and it generally made them happy if she complied.

“I’m forgetting my manners.”  Sarah said as her mother would.  “Please come in.  I’ll make some tea and we can talk about, erm, Theresa.”

Sarah busied herself with the tea and came back into the living room to find the detective had layed out a couple of files on the coffee table.

“I was a bit concerned after we last spoke, that you’d given up.  I didn’t want you to think that just because they’ve reallocated the case to me that it’s receiving any less attention.  I know you used to ring Mike regularly for any updates.  Then I got the message that you didn’t want to appear on ‘Crimewatch’ any more.  I understand, when people realise what it means, to be speaking in front of millions of viewers, it can be very daunting, even if, like you, they were keen to do it at first.”

“Mmm.”  Sarah replied.  She knew ‘Crimewatch’ was some programme on television, but she never watched it, she was probably in bed by the time it came on.

“And then of course there was Mrs. Moran’s death.  I guess you were involved in the funeral and stuff.”

“Mrs. Moran?”

“Theresa’s mother, Kathleen.  You went?”

“Erm, no.”

“I suppose it must have been hard, you must have shared a lot since Theresa disappeared.”

“Erm, yes.”  All of this seemed rather odd to Sarah, but she gave the answers she felt the detective was expecting.

“The staff at the home said she went very happily, looked like she was in a state of ecstasy.”  The detective smiled.  “Best way to go, isn’t it?  Going to her maker that way, happy to be welcomed.”

“Yes, best way.  Tea?”

“Thank you.”

Sarah poured the tea for the policewoman and herself.  The two of them sat quietly.  Rayner glanced over at Sarah, she looked content enough, but it was clear that the whole incident had taken a toll on her.  Whilst she looked neat and tidy, the spark she would expect to find in a woman in her late twenties seemed to be missing.

“Erm, you might wonder why I’ve come today.  I could’ve asked you to come down the station, but I thought it might be a bit easier to deal with in your home.”

“Yes, fine.”

“It’s just that, well you know that the landlord re-let Theresa’s flat.  It was a crime scene, but we hadn’t been able to find any evidence, we had all of Theresa’s diaries and computer files and things at the station anyway.  Well, it turns out we had missed something.  The new tenants started moving things around and er, they found some things hidden in a sort of walk in store room.  You know the flat was part of a Victorian property, well its full of these odd bits left over when it was split up.  In this small room, we found some things.”

“Some things?”

“Yes, photos, items of a sexual nature.”

“Ah.”  This did not compute with Sarah.  She had little inkling what items of a sexual nature might include.

Rayner looked at Sarah.  She wondered if she had misjudged this entirely.  From what Mike Kay had said and the telephone conversation she had had with Sarah herself, she had expected a sophisticated businesswoman-type, worldly-wise not this mouse of a woman, who her elderly grandmother would find dull.

“Erm, I think I might have made a mistake bringing these things here.  I just thought you might have had an idea the sort of thing Theresa was wrapped up in, but I guess if you had, you would have mentioned it long ago.  I’m sorry, I should have ‘phoned first, should have given it more thought.  Sorry I have wasted your time.”

“No.”  Sarah replied, again feeling this was the answer the detective expected.

“So, you’d be happy to see these photos?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, well I have to tell you they are of a sexual nature.  You’ll have no problem with that?”

“No.”  Sarah replied again, smiling as she felt she had got the trick of this conversation.

Rayner pulled out some photos.  They showed glossy clothes on hangers, corsets, thigh length boots, various cuffs and shackles, a collar and a leash.  All were red, all were of the slipperiest shiny material, rubber and PVC.

“We think that Theresa was into BDSM, you know bondage, games of dominance, that kind of thing.  She was probably tied up, shackled by someone whilst wearing this gear for sexual pleasure.  I assume she had never mentioned such things.”

“Erm, no.”  Sarah said, she could not remember talking with this Theresa anyway, but again it seemed to be the answer the woman expected.

“We found this photo down the back of the wardrobe.”

Rayner put a photo on the table.  It showed Theresa dressed in a skin-tight red rubber catsuit, her feet in matching ankle boots with long stiletto heels and platform soles.  She was crouching so that her head was waist height of a woman dressed in a matching outfit in shiny black, but her features were hidden by an all-encompassing black rubber mask.  Both Theresa and the other woman had turned their heads to face into the camera.  As Sarah looked she could see a leash ran from the woman’s hand to a collar around Theresa’s neck, itself a shade of red leather that matched the rest of her outfit.

“Did you know anything about Theresa’s sexuality?  She must have said something to you?  Did she like men?  Was she gay?  Bi?”

“Erm, no.”  This time Sarah truly felt she did not know the answers, this time her ignorance was different to her lack of knowledge about the detective’s other questions.

Rayner waited for more elaboration, but Sarah just sat there quietly before turning back to her tea.

“Okay, well thanks for looking at them.”  Rayner said at length.  Not to worry you, we think she may have just run off with this woman in the photo, rather than trying to come out to family and friends she may have just skipped the country.  We’re going to be asking questions in the BDSM community, but you know they can be a secretive bunch.  We just wondered if with this new aspect, you had any names or leads that could get her started.  But I guess it was something she could not even talk with her best friend about.  Anyway, thanks for your time.  You have my number at the station if anything comes up.”  Rayner said as she stood up and collected her files.

“Yes, thank you for coming.”  Sarah said and ushered the detective to the door.

Rayner thanked Sarah at the door then headed to her car.  She had made such a mistake about her, she could see that now.  Clearly it was Theresa who was the sophisticated one, who had taken this rather simple Sarah under her wing, and so it was unsurprising that she had not revealed her ‘adult’ activities to this charity case.  Theresa’s mother seemed to have been a tough old bird, and it now seemed clearly that Sarah had acted as her mouthpiece, putting pressure on the police, something Kathleen Moran would have found difficult from her residential home.  As Rayner got into her car she wondered what would happen to Sarah Brunton now that both Kathleen and Theresa were gone.

Sarah sat passively, her mind was a turmoil of thoughts.  Talking with the detective had stirred up so many things in her mind.  Not only were some of the names becoming vaguely familiar, but also the images too.  She thought of an old woman called Kathleen with a lovely smile, she thought of the woman called Theresa with shoulder-length blonde hair and she thought of the woman with her face concealed behind the mask, standing proud though she wore rubber clothes that revealed every part of her body.  Connections seemed to coming together, slowly, but they were coming.  Sarah felt as if she was recovering from a cold, her head becoming clearer after feeling so clouded.

“Sarah.”

Sarah looked up, startled as she heard her name spoken.  She guessed that it was the detective back because she had forgotten something, but the sight which greeted her made her immediately aware that she had been wrong.  As Sarah’s eyes ran up the rubber-clad, masked woman, so many memories seemed to break out of cold storage.  The encounters with this woman came back, the memories she had suppressed returned, as did the sense of excitement Sarah remembered from when this woman had taken control of her.

“I said we should have taken you from the start.”  The intruder said as she slipped the black leather back from her shoulder and put it on the table.  “I said it should have been me who collected Theresa, not that one they sent, she messed things up big time.  When we met I said you lacked obedience.  You can’t help it, your mind is strong, a lot stronger than Theresa’s, it was bound to keep chipping away even with me using the stick and the carrot and a little concealment on top.”

Sarah stood looking, her mind not daring to run along the paths she had considered when she had last encountered this woman, nor willing to admit that there was a sense of excitement too, a deeply-embedded thrill that wanted herself to come to resemble Theresa in the photo.

“I’ve shown what was going to happen if more of the story came out, didn’t I?”

“Yes.”  Sarah replied softly.

“I must confess you have been a pleasure to toy with, and once you have been enslaved, I know you will be one of the best we’ve ever acquired.”

Sarah did not know how to respond.  Her feelings were in turmoil as she realised that she was about to become just what Theresa had been made into.

“You get the last laugh of course, you get to find out exactly what happened to Theresa, something none of those others who’ve been snooping around will ever know, though that policewoman could do worse than find out a little in person.”

Sarah stood up slowly, uncertain what she could do, or even what she wanted to do.

“Yes, you’re right, there’s no time to waste talking.”  The woman looked directly at Sarah and then held out her right hand, glistening from its latex-clad fingertips right back.

Sarah felt the intruder’s control take her and knew the process was starting, she gasped pleasurably, she had been foolish to ever think it was not pleasing to be so controlled.  Her mind seemed happy to let her body take over the task of removing her teeshirt, the bra beneath, sliding from her jeans and panties, teasing off her socks all for the last time.  Somehow she knew she would never wear clothes like this again.  It seemed to happen so easily and Sarah knew that her perception of things was likely never to be the same again.  Sarah stood naked, empty of orders, simply waiting passively.

The intruder opened her bag and Sarah was no unsurprised as glistening red rubber catsuit emerged.  She knew it would be hers.  As the intruder gestured, Sarah stepped forward.  She took the rubber and slowly, determinedly began to ease her body into it.  The interior was coated with some slippery substance that slid across Sarah’s skin.  The catsuit had feet and gloves attached so it was going to encase Sarah from head to toe.  Curiosity still featured in Sarah’s brain, and she wondered what it would feel like to be dressed in this shiny rubber clinging so tightly to her.  In moments both her feet were in and the rubber was rising up her legs.  Soon it was cupping around her bum.

The enclosing zip ran up from in front of her pussy round the back to her neck.  She slid her arms into the sleeves not only coating them but bringing the shiny red rubber to cover her breasts and midriff.  The intruder stepped behind Sarah and reaching between her legs pulled the end of the two-way zip closed.  As it reached her neck Sarah realised she was sealed in.  Her latex-covered fingers teased at her latex-covered breasts, pert and excited in the sensual rubber as it warmed and shaped to Sarah giving her this alien second skin.

The intruder was at Sarah’s feet and she obligingly lifted each in turn, putting her foot down shod in the high heeled-boots rising quickly on them and the platforms as the intruder buckled them tight around Sarah’s ankles.  Now she wore patent boots that matched the shine of the rubber.

Sarah moved slightly in her new clothes, enjoying the slight squeal, the aroma of rubber, the shine of it in the light, but above all the feeling of being so constrained yet so exposed.  Sarah felt the comforting grip of the intruder’s will in her mind, slacken, but she realised that she had no wish to struggle, to flee, now all she wanted was the process completed.

The intruder walked around Sarah, drinking in her red, shiny appearance.  “Yes, I could manipulate you like a puppet for as long as I like, but it would be unsatisfactory, and anyway, what we want is slaves, not puppets, and a slave is what you are about to become.”

Sarah grasped as she began to kneel, she realised she was doing this, not because she was compelled to, but because it felt so right.  She bent to kiss the intruder’s boot, then as she knelt back, she felt the collar closing around her neck.

“Yesss.”  Sarah said breathlessly as she knew the last stage of her enslavement was proceeding, she knew too, what had happened to Theresa and why she would have welcomed it.

The collar locked shut and Sarah was a slave.

“Excellent.”  The intruder said.  She attached a leash to the ring on the red leather collar.  “Now the final stage, just to flush out that personality of yours.  I know your servitude is embedded deep in you, but your Owner will not want anything of your old personality left, they’ll want a blank canvas for their masterpiece or mistresspiece of course.”

Those were the last words she heard as Sarah.  The slave felt the intruder’s hand rest on her head and so much weight was lifted from her.  The slave knew she had no name until her Owner named her, she had no memory of any work, any life, except serving her Owner.  These were the clothes she wore, this was how she behaved, servile, obedient, sexual, no other modes of behaviour were in her.  The slave felt happy, she was doing what she should, serving, appearing as erotic as she could, ready and waiting for her next command.  The room around her seemed unfamiliar.

The slave looked up at the woman in black holding her leash.  This was her handler and she had to obey her.  She watched as the woman began lowering the zip of her own catsuit.  The slave knew what was expected and as the handler’s naked pussy came into view, the slave bent towards it, lapping at the lips, teasing at the clitoris, working hard, pleased at the handler’s grunts, and stoking up her pleasure until she received the signal to thrust her to climax.

The slave knelt back, delighted as she watched the handler quivering in pleasure.  The handler stroked the slave’s hair, clearly pleased herself in how she had been served.

“Stand.”  The woman in black said.

The slave stood patiently as her handler picked up the empty bag and then followed her as she led the slave to where she belonged.