Lady Eleanor's Collection 3: Augmentation

Story 3 - Augmentation

The taxi pulled up at the end of the driveway.

“That’s the place.”

“Aren’t you going to drive in?”  Sara asked, curious at the behaviour of this British taxi driver.

“That’s the place.  You owe me ten pounds.”  He said in a surly voice.

Sara realised that she was not going to get anything more out of the man.  She paid him, but did not give him a tip.  She picked up her large bag and began walking up to the house.  The driveway was far from straight and Sara felt a bit disgruntled as she went under the arch of rambling trees.  Then she emerged into the rambling gardens.  They were well tended and the whole view looked just how she imagined an English country house to appear.  Her tiredness now forgotten, she was soon at the door.  She could see why Professor Nash had resigned from her post in the US if this had been what had been waiting for her in England.

Sara rang the bell.  She did not wait long before the door opened.  The woman who opened it was clearly a maid.  She stood smartly, her head bowed a little.

“Please enter.”  The maid said, stepping to one side.

As Sara’s eyes adjusted from the light of the autumn sunshine she could make out the maid’s glistening costume.  The white frills around the black apron looked classic, but the long boots she wore and their sharp heels seemed a little odd.

“Ah, there you are.”  A woman probably coming up to forty, with blonde hair showering from her head in braids, hurried up.

It took Sara some moments to realise that this had to be Professor Eleanor Nash, looking so different from the faculty photographs she had seen of her.  Professor Nash wore smooth black leather trousers, no doubt from a leading Italian fashion house.  Sara noticed her cropped jacket was also leather and so was the bustier she wore beneath it.  Her heels were possibly a touch too high.  Then again Professor Nash must have inherited money with this place, and in Beverley Hills she would have appeared positively restrained in her wardrobe.

“Sara, Sara Brooke, I presume.”

“Professor Nash, it was so great of you to let me come and visit.”

“It was nothing.  I may have stepped out of academia, but it doesn’t mean I’ve entirely lost interest in the subjects I researched.  Though don’t call me Professor Nash, here I’m Eleanor, Lady Eleanor.”

“Yes, of course, Lady Eleanor.”

“Excellent.  Come through, we’ll have tea, or coffee if you prefer.”

Sara looked around as if on a tourist trip as Lady Eleanor led her into a large sitting room.  It was not crowded with ornaments as she expected to find in a stately home, instead the furniture was modern with dark shades contrasting with the cream of the walls and the white of the window frames.

“Take a seat.”  Lady Eleanor gestured to a midnight blue armchair of polished leather.

Sara sat down and with her journey at an end found she felt surprisingly comfortable and relaxed.  In moments the maid appeared with the tea, as she set it down, Sara once again pondered how practical her shiny boots and short maid’s uniform was, but her attention was quickly distracted by Lady Eleanor.

“We had better press on, I’m sure you have got a lot of questions.”

“Erm, yes.  Do you mind if I record our talks?”

“Certainly, it’s good to get an accurate note of my words.”

Sara admired Lady Eleanor’s focus: no small talk, no discussion of the trip here.  She pulled her pad, with her points to focus on, from her bag and set the mini-disc recorder running on the low table between them.

“Professor, before you stepped down, your work focused on the psychological and neurological effects of augmentation, breast enlargement and such like.”

“Yes, that’s correct.  It’s still an area which I am interested in.  I do private research here.”

“That’s great to hear.  You no longer publish though.”

“No, my ideas are probably too controversial.  I will hold on to my results until the world catches up with my thinking.”

“Yes, I know what you mean.”  Sara laughed lightly then continued.  “The most controversial point you made before you stepped down was that women who undergo such augmentation feel that they lose control, that they become submissive to the person, well, not necessarily the surgeon, but the person who arranged for the surgery.  Of course most women arrange their own...”

“But do they do it for themselves?”  Lady Eleanor interjected.  “Or do they do it for their husbands, their partners, for society?”

Sara hesitated, thinking for the moment.  “Yes, that is a point, but I find it difficult to accept that a woman’s personality would change, that she would become submissive.  You called it the ‘master syndrome‘, didn’t you?”

“The Mistress Syndrome.”  Eleanor corrected.

“Ah.”  Sara hesitated, uncertain what to say next.

“Have you ever had such augmentation yourself?”  Lady Eleanor asked as she ran her eyes over Sara.

“No.”

“So, you have no personal experience of what changes it might bring?”

“No, that is true.”

“Well, who better to work with, someone who is both knowledgeable and sceptical?”

“A test case?”

“Call it that if you like, but you’d be working with me on the research.  We would have two views of the same developments.”

Sara laughed again, partly nervous at what Lady Eleanor’s suggestions meant, partly excited to be invited to work with her.

“Though I might not be up to it, once the process was complete.  Didn’t you also say that the intelligence of such an augmented woman becomes less, as she feels herself becoming more of an object, or what was the word you used?  More like a pet?”

“Well, she is petted.  We alter our pets, cut their coats, dock their tails, neuter them.  Surely that is what happens to the woman who is altered, but even more so.  She yields to the changes and is rewarded by her owner for how she now appears.  She is made more sexually alluring.  She does not control what happens to her, she is remade the way her mistress wants.”

“So if I went through such surgery I would find myself feeling like your pet?”

“What‘s wrong with that?”  Lady Eleanor seemed to joke.

“It‘s only a possibility after all, that is what we would be testing.”  Sara conceded.

“I think it is more than a possibility, but why don’t you see?”

Sara fell quiet, thinking through the implications.  “Such things are reversible, and it would certainly make a great thesis.  But who would fund it?  I can’t see the university paying for me to get my breasts enlarged.”

“I have a small surgery here.  I worked in the field before turning to research.  We could do all the work here, under controlled conditions.”

“I don’t know.”  Sara hesitated.

“You are serious about this research aren’t you?”  Lady Eleanor fixed her gaze on Sara as if daring her to disagree.  Then she spoke with a softer tone.  “Well you know as well as anyone we can reverse any of the processes, that’s if you wanted that after it’s done.”

“Yes, I suppose so.  What sort of things are you thinking about?”

“Nothing too extreme.  Plump out your lips, that’s very easy, breast implants are a given, filling out your backside is popular these days too.”

“Yes, it’s becoming as popular as breast enlargement.  There are a couple of other things, my nose could be a little more shapely, I’ve often thought.”

“Yes, that’s no problem.  We could also taper your waist a little and a touch of liposuction will give us material to work with.”

“Okay.  When will we do this?  I’m only over here for a month.”

“Oh don’t worry.  We can handle it tomorrow.  I’ll just make some calls and double check my surgery.”

“That gives me time to get the experiment log set up and start writing in my thoughts, feelings and so on.  We’ll need a ‘before’ and ‘after’ view.”

“Certainly.”  Lady Eleanor said as she stood.  “Well, I’ll leave you to your tasks and will go and see to mine.  I’ll see you first thing tomorrow morning.”  She rang a small bell on the table.  “I’ll have Layla make up a room for you, get you some food too.  You can stay here to recover.  It’ll be nice to have a guest staying, I have so few.”

The maid appeared.

“Layla, can you have Sara shown to the Arabic bedroom?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“See you bright and early.”  Lady Eleanor smiled and Sara felt reassured.

Sara followed the maid, oblivious now to her clothes as her mind raced through her ideas for this research and thoughts of the academic papers that would come from it.

****

The morning had rushed by and Sara had had little time to think about what was happening, instead she had been focusing on the experiment as if it was going to be occurring to someone else.  It was only now as she lay on the operating table that Sara began to realise this was real and was happening to her.  For the first time she began to wonder how she would look, probably not too different from what Lady Eleanor had said; by the time she got back to the States probably no-one would even notice the changes.

“If your theories are right then with this much augmentation, I will be unable to think for myself, I’ll be totally submissive to you.”  Sara said: the thought had just come to her.

She had always doubted Professor Nash’s theory would prove accurate, but now she was facing putting it to the test.

Lady Eleanor just smiled.  She injected the anaesthetic into Sara then stood back.

“Yes, you will be.  I knew that for certain when I stepped down.  Since then I have been refining the techniques.  As well as your augmentation you will receive conditioning whilst you sleep.  When you awake you will be Syra, your personality as well as your body transformed, totally obedient to me.  You’ll have become one of my pets.”

Sara was alarmed, and tried to struggle, but her limbs felt heavy and she found she was unable to lift her head.  She thought of the maid she had seen clad in tight shiny rubber.  She wondered if that would be her fate.  As if reading her mind, Lady Eleanor held up a glistening rubber catsuit.

“Do you like it?  This is what Syra wears and there is nothing you can do to stop yourself becoming Syra.  I couldn’t have anyone too interested in my work, well, certainly not someone not totally loyal to me.  When you awake you will be something far more useful than just another researcher, you will be a playbeing.  You’ll like that: all your worries will be gone, I’ll look after everything for you.  I am your mistress, you can just delight in your shapely, sexy body, Syra and using it to serve me to full.”

Lady Eleanor’s words sounded distant, but in Sara’s ears the name Syra echoed and then all went black.

****

Syra stepped out of the shower and admired her large firm breasts and the shapely hemisphere of her bum.  Her waist was slimmer, as if she wore a corset, tapered, accentuating both her enlarged breasts and backside.  She pouted her full lush lips and shook her blonde hair.  She loved how her body looked, she was grateful to her mistress for allowing her to be so sexy.  Hanging close by was her black rubber catsuit, standing beneath it a pair of matching thigh length boots with high, sharp heels.  She stepped over to the clothes, enjoying the way her firm bum swayed as she moved.  She stroked her fingers over the rubber’s polished surface, but did not hesitate long, she was eager to show off her sexy body to her mistress in this clinging rubber.

Syra slid her legs into the catsuit, the interior was coated with a kind of oil that her mistress had created that meant the rubber slid easily across her body.  Soon her bum was coated and she was easing her arms into the sleeves.  Her whole body tingled, this felt so right, to be clad in this gloss, showing off every part of her delicious body, yet making it so much sexier.  Excitedly she eased up the zip sealing herself into the catsuit, her large breasts standing erect in the rubber, their nipples rock hard.  Her rubber clad legs slid easily into the thigh length boots and Syra rose on the sharp heels.  Syra strutted to the mirror, loving the way the rubber rippled around her shapely body as she moved, glistening in the light.  Syra was eager to finger herself in her new clothes, but something held her back: her priority was to satisfy her mistress and in return pleasure came from her, when she decided.

Satisfied with the erotic way she was now dressed, Syra went to find her mistress.  As she walked through the house so blatantly a sex-toy, Syra shuddered with a thrill, she loved the fact that this was her existence, to be so sexy, to be so obedient.  She found her mistress reclining on a sofa dressed in blue leather: a bustier and tight sleek trousers.

“Mistress.”  Syra said as she stepped into the room, her head bowed in submission.

Lady Eleanor looked up and clearly delighted in the new pet she saw standing before her, her body sculpted with large firm breasts and buttocks so obvious in the skin-tight glossy rubber that were now her usual clothes.

“Syra, lift your head.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

As Syra lifted up her face, Lady Eleanor looked into her eyes.  Syra knew that all she could see was a sex-slave looking back, all thought of resistance, any ability not to obey, had been removed.  Syra was oblivious to the fact that Lady Eleanor knew that Sara Brooke no longer existed at all, instead in front of her stood Syra, nothing more than one of her slaves, nothing more than a playbeing.

“Syra, come lick me out.”  Lady Eleanor ordered, unbuttoning her trousers to expose her naked pussy below.

Syra fell to her knees and crawled across the floor, pleased to be able to service her mistress.  In moments her tongue was lapping at the lips of her mistress’s delicious pussy, teasing her tasty clit until her mistress slumped back, shaking with pleasure, clearly delighted at her new toy.

Syra knelt back, pleased that she had done her duty.

“Orgasm.”  Lady Eleanor ordered.

Syra’s body was unable to disobey and she was shot through with pleasure, her clitoris throbbing, her snatch was running juicy, her body quivering with pleasure as she squirmed, fondling her slippery rubber-clad body, loving the fact that she served her mistress and her mistress rewarded her so well.