Leather Story: A New Flatmate

This is an old story and shows up many themes that have appeared in a number of my stories. I often re-use the same name, and as you can see here, Helen, Karyn and Nikki are ones that have often featured. Also the whole issue around moving into a new house or flat and what you uncover when you move in there, is a common theme of mine, I suppose, of a lot of writers. This is a quick story about a woman coming to wear leather as a result of such circumstances, and again, as with a number of the leather stories, the sexual element is implied rather than seen explicitly.

A New Flatmate

Helen pressed the doorbell. A few moments later the door was opened by a young woman about Helen’s age. However, in contrast to the plain blouse and skirt Helen wore, she was clad in shiny black leather. She wore a cropped leather top that showed her nipples erect in the leather and left her midriff naked, so that Helen could see the ring in her navel. Her legs were coated in tight shiny leather jeans covering smooth, matching leather boots. Her hair was short and blonde. She wore three silver rings in each ear and a stud in her nose.

“Karyn?” Helen asked.

“Yes, we spoke on the ‘phone, you’ve come about the room.” Karyn said warmly.

“Yes.” Helen said.

“Come in.”

Helen followed, her attention focussed on Karyn’s bum, swaying sexily in the smooth leather, which creaked gently with every step. The jeans clung to Karyn like a second smooth skin. Helen realised they had no pockets so as Karyn walked in front of her she was presented with the smooth hemisphere of Karyn’s leathered backside. Helen found it difficult to concentrate as she was shown around. It was a clean and modernly furnished flat. Her prospective bedroom was nice, but bare.

“This is my room.” Karyn said at last. Opening the door into a large plush room, dominated by a circular bed covered with silk sheets and a large mirrored wardrobe. “We are usually very informal here, the last woman who had your room, Lucy, her, and I were always swapping clothes.” She slid back the door of the wardrobe to show a wide range of exotic clothes, many in leather, others in PVC, even a rubber catsuit, plus a variety of pairs of boots.

Helen flushed, she could hardly imagine herself borrowing any of those clothes. Karyn slid the door shut.

“So what do you think?” Karyn said eagerly.

“Fine.” Helen stuttered, looking away from Karyn awkwardly.

“Shall we have a coffee, and discuss the details?”

“Erh, yes.” Helen replied, not really knowing what to say. She was trying to cope with the idea that she could be living in this house with a woman so exciting and sexy.

Helen walked back down into the living room, whilst Karyn went into the kitchen. She looked around the plushly decorated lounge and reclined on the blue leather sofa. There was an expensive hi-fi and television built into matching metal blue units. Smart lamps and a carpet also adorned the room. Soon Karyn returned with the coffees and sat down opposite Helen.

Helen sipped her coffee nervously, she could not keep her eyes off Karyn, they kept running up and down her body, from her boots, the length of her shiny leathered legs to her naked waist and then her shiny breasts. She could not help looking at how the leather caressed her naked body, coating it in a second smooth, shiny skin.

Suddenly Karyn sat forward her eyes fixed on Helen’s, but her look was enthusiastic, not annoyed, it was challenging but in an encouraging not offended way.

“You’re fascinated, aren’t you? Not just a little curious, you can’t look away. This is different to passing someone like me on the street, you are having to face up to sitting so close to someone who is so blatant, so honest about what she is, admitting loads of things that you could not even consider yourself. You’re too frightened to admit your own feelings. Somewhere, deep hidden in the depths of your dreams, your fantasies, lies an urge to let yourself go, to dress yourself how you really want, sexily, to admit what you really want.” She deliberately ran her hands slowly across her leathered thighs, then her naked flesh and erect breasts, to emphasise her points.

Helen was blushing ferociously. She was sweating, her mouth was dry, her heart beating violently. She put the cup down on the table, her hands shaking.

Karyn stood up slowly, smoothing the leather across her thighs provocatively. She walked across to Helen who was frozen to the spot.

“You want to live here more than you could ever say. I agree on one condition - that I make you what your dreams are burning for you to be.”

Karyn took Helen’s unresisting hand and pulled her up. She led her gently into her bedroom. Casually Karyn unbuttoned Helen’s blouse and discarded it. Then she bent to remove Helen’s shoes, her shiny bum thrust upwards as she did. Helen was almost panting as she felt her skirt and then her tights pulled down. Karyn rested her leathered body against her as she removed Helen’s bra, and then lightly kissed both of her bare nipples in turn. Helen could not conceal her body’s reaction. Both her breasts were hard, and her sex loose and hungry.

Karyn walked to the wardrobe and collected a leather top, trousers and boots like she wore. Helen was shuddering with anticipation as she came back to her. She expected Karyn to dress her. Instead she laid the clothes on the bed.

“Dress.” She said.

Helen hesitated. Then slowly picked up the top. She could not believe what was happening. Slowly she wrapped the smooth leather across her breasts, and then zipped it up the back. She could not believe the sensation. She could not stop herself reaching for the trousers. Slowly she slipped in one leg and then the other and pulled the trousers up so that her bum was coated in shiny leather. She buttoned the fly and buckled the belt, sealing herself into the leather. Finally she reached for the boots, the leather of her trousers and top creaking as she did. She pulled on one and then the other and buckled them up. She rose on the heels and noticed they were sharper than Karyn’s, stilettos, more feminine.

Helen walked across to the mirror and stood with her hands on her hips, not believing what she was seeing. Her body felt relaxed but aroused, she loved the sensation of the leather coating her body and the whispering sound it made as she moved. Like this she felt she was a different person, that she had shed all the concerns of her previous existence. Then she felt Karyn’s fingers brush against the smooth leather which coated her bum and she gasped with the sensation. Karyn walked up behind her and wrapped her hands around Helen’s waist. She began gently swaying from side to side taking Helen with her. Helen was powerless to stop herself, soon she was swaying and bending as Karyn did, her body warm and pressed close to her. Their leathers stroked across each other. Helen could see Karyn’s face visible beside hers in the mirror. Soon she was drifting away, her movements, her arms, her body thrusting and stroking as Karyn’s did.

“Ahh, Nikki.” Karyn whispered in her ear.

“My name’s Helen.” She replied lazily.

“No, Helen was the woman outside, you’re Nikki, you can’t stop the change.”

Karyn turned her around suddenly and smothered her lips with her own. Helen struggled to pull away but the feeling was too pleasurable, the pair of them swayed and stroked against each others’ bodies as Karyn’s tongue probed deep into Helen’s mouth and her fingers caressed her hardening breasts. As Karyn’s hands stroked her leathered bum, Helen realised how she was dressed that it was not a dream, not someone else, but herself. Helen felt herself yielding, wanting to arouse and please this woman. She turned from simply yielding to actively making love to Karyn, to prolong the sensation. As she let Karyn’s tongue deep into her mouth Helen knew that the next time she stepped out of this flat it would be as the leather coated lover she was now.

Leather Story: Walking Down My Street

Like many of my leather stories, this one was inspired by a real woman I saw, in fact in my neighbourhood, dressed and with the same hairstyle exactly as described here.  She was walking along so confidently that I wondered what impact she might have on other people seeing her.

Walking Down My Street

It was unusual for Jo Carter to be out in her neighbourhood at this time of the day.  Usually she was driving home in stop-start traffic.  Today, however, they were doing something to the heating system in her office and she and most of her colleagues had been told to work from home.  Given that much of what she did was handled over email she wondered why her employers did not let her do this more often; she guessed if she did then she would miss chatting with her colleagues.  Without the stress of the commute, Jo felt more alert than usual and had the urge for something different for dinner.  Normally she would have stopped at an out-of-town store she passed on her daily journey, but she had no desire now to go out into the rush hour traffic and so was heading to the small supermarket close to her than she rarely visited.

It was pretty quiet in her road.  The school kids were home already and the commuters like herself were probably still stuck queuing back into this part of town.  Ahead she caught sight of a young woman.  She looked older than a student but still a little younger than Jo.  She would not see thirty again, but was keen to separate herself from the middle-aged women and even the yummy-mummies of the neighbourhood.  The woman coming towards her had long blonde hair, perhaps accentuated with dye and certainly permed into ringlets that hung down her back.  At first Jo thought she was simply dressed in black, but as the woman came closer, she saw it was black leather.  She had on a smart bomber jacket, with side pockets and a zip done up right to her neck, but without any fussiness of large pockets or fabric around the hem.  Her legs were in leather leggings which disappeared into over-the-knee boots.

For some reason, Jo had slowed her pace and then realised she was taking in everything she could about the woman.  She had never been turned on by a woman and quickly it became apparent that it was what this woman represented that was attracting her attention.  There was something about the confident way she moved.  It was with a sexiness but of a kind different to if she had been tottering along in a short skirt and platform shoes.  Her boots were flat-heeled, but there was certainly something about her being encompassed in the black leather that was some kind of come-on.  It was that, Jo was sure, rather than intimidating.  Everything she wore was of soft, feminine leather, it was not as if she was a biker stomping along the road.  Jo smiled to herself as she thought of the woman as an urban panther.

As they passed the woman noticed Jo and gave her a quick smile.  Now it was apparent that she was off in a world fed into her ears from some device; the earpieces and cables mainly conceals by her hair.  Once she had passed, Jo could not stop turning to look at the woman.  The jacket stopped at her waist and the boots rose higher at the front than the rear.  It was her bum in the tight, clinging leather that held Jo’s attention the most.  She shook herself and looked away, continuing on her journey, wondering where all these drives were coming from.  She knew she was no lesbian.  She and James had split amicably when work had taken him to Dubai and if a decent man turned up she was sure she would leap at him.  Most round this way were under-the-thumb marrieds or elderly.  As she walked on, Jo realised, that she did not want to be with the woman she had seen; she wanted to be that woman – dressed that way; with that confidence and that allure.

****

Jo felt that strange tingle, the dryness in her mouth.  Once more she gazed up the road on the off-chance she would catch sight of the woman in leather.  In fact she would have accepted seeing her in any outfit.  However, though it was the same time of day as when she had last seen her, there was no sign.  Jo had taken to getting to work earlier and leaving earlier so that she was back in her own district by the time she had been her the day she had worked from home.  Though she had not seen the woman again, she found it difficult to douse her confidence that she would be there one more time.  Rationally Jo tried to tell herself the woman may never walk down this road ever again; she might not even come back to this town.  However, something kept her hoping to have another glimpse of that air of confidence of that sexiness – she felt now it was what she was terming ‘sassiness’ that she had so admired and had got her so fired up.  Then the worry that she was becoming obsessed over something for which she might find no relief haunted her and not for the first time Jo worried what impact that would have.  Yet, again there was that optimism, the excitement that she might see the woman and might even talk to her.  It was only the coming of darkness and her feet beginning to tire that finally signalled to Jo that this was futile.

As she returned to her small, rented house, a new idea came to Jo’s mind.  Why should she not be the woman in black leather walking around this neighbourhood?  For a moment she dismissed it as ridiculous.  A reasonably successful office worker with the occasional boyfriend did not dress that way.  She was sure she would look like mutton dressed up as lamb.  Yet, other arguments came, saying that the woman had not been that younger than herself and had looked hot.  Jo was proud of the work she did in the gym and clutching her buttocks, found it very easy to envisage them being held tightly by black leather.

Now it was almost in a daze that Jo went to her computer and started shopping.  There would be nothing too extravagant, but easily she found the clothes she wanted.  For a moment she hesitated in paying for them, but as she pressed the final button she felt a real burst of excitement.  Her breasts and her sex buzzed and she felt a little as if she had vertigo.  The voice saying she was a fool to behave this way was quickly countered by the one that reminded her even if she got these clothes, she did not have to wear them or go out in them.  That night, however, her dreams were filled with her dressed like the woman first seeing someone resembling Jo as she had been coming the other way and then ending up at James’s house with him somehow more muscular than in real life and immediately sweeping her up and giving her mind-blowing sex.

****

Jo looked at her blonde, permed hair in the mirror, wondering if she had made a big mistake.  It was a bank holiday weekend and she had had it styled on Friday evening, glad that many hairdressers these days opened late.  She considered whether she was mad to style herself after a woman she had only seen once.  Then again, she told herself it was no different to the women who modelled themselves on an actress or a celebrity.  She had worried that the style would ultimately not suit her and was prepared to bind it up tight in a bun when she returned to work.  Pushing her qualms aside, Jo tended to her make-up.  She often wore a little to work to sharpen her features.  Now she was putting on a little more, not tarty of course, but trying to hit the sassy appearance she had envisaged.  Satisfied she put in her longest earrings, wanting some that swung when she turned her head.  She already had the black laced panties and bra set she had got when first seeing James and a tight-fitting black devore top she had bought in the sales but never worn.  Then she turned to her new leather clothes.

Jo felt her heart running quickly as she picked up the leggings.  She had not yet tried them on and now worried she would have got the wrong size.  However, as she propped herself on the edge of the bed and began to pull them on, they felt perfect.  They were quickly at her knees and then on to her thighs and she stood to tug them into place over her bum.  The leather was so smooth to touch.  She could hardly believe that her legs could look like this.  Now she slipped on the cashmere socks and turned to the boots.

The over-the-knee boots stood proud by her bed, columns of smart black leather.  Seeing how well crafted they were she began to perceive them as more than suitable for a smart, successful woman like herself.  Feeling so good getting into these clothes kept making Jo feel that despite any worries she had had, she was doing something very right.  She wondered if she could get away with these at work; perhaps a suede pair.  Steadily Jo accepted that she had turned a corner and now would not look at how she should dress in the same way ever again.  With the boots on, Jo stood up.  The heel was low, but there was something about having these on that made her feel ready to battle the world as if her hero was about to burst through the door and tell her she had to come and fight demons or vampires.  She was pleased at this confidence and trusted it would be enough to help her finish off what she intended rather than skulk here posing before the mirror in her bedroom.

Jo slung the small shoulder bag on, it already had her phone, her front door key and cards in it; her small MP3 player as well.  The final touch was so slide into the bomber jacket and zip it up, keeping her bag tucked inside.  Once more, Jo ran her hands down the sheer leather, loving the soft feel, the gentle creak as she moved and the rich aroma of what she wore.  Then she turned her back to the mirror and looked over her shoulder, really loving how her hair cascaded and especially how her bum was held in her leggings; proudly showing the lines she had worked on in the gym.  Now there was nothing to stop her.  In moments she was down the stairs and out of the door.  She pulled it closed and strode from her front door before she could allow herself to worry if any of her neighbours would see her.  No matter how much she told herself that they would not recognise her or that they had no concern about her or that this was the new her anyway and they had to accept it, that worry kept intruding.

Then Jo found herself out on the street, walking away from her home and wondering how the clothes she wore shaped the way she moved.  For a moment she thought about putting her earphones in but found she was too hyped up to do that and instead tucked her hands into her jacket pockets.  Then it felt as if she had clicked into place; as if she had altered history and she was the woman that she had first seen – a future echo of herself.  These were foolish ideas, Jo knew, but as she walked on, it was as if she was sealing herself into being this woman; dressing and behaving this way.  She realised that gave her a thrill and her body buzzed with that sensation as if it was aware of the exciting opportunities she had opened up.

Without really thinking where she was going, Jo found herself in the centre of town, alert to how people, men and women of different ages were looking at her.  Jo felt a frisson as a man her age with that rugged look that suddenly found she liked smiled as he passed and as she turned to look after him, her earrings and hair swinging the way she planned, she saw him looking back.  Jo loved to think his eyes were on her leather-clad bum as she strode on.  She was becoming aware of a feedback loop.  The sexier she appeared, the way others reacted to her changed and that attention made her feel sexier too.  Then she turned into a wine bar that she had always felt self-conscious about being in alone; she had not visited it since James had flown to Dubai.  She ordered a white wine and found herself on one of the large sofas, wondering if her black leather on the brown was too much.  However, she dismissed such a thought and began eyeing up the men coming in.  Many were part of a couple or in groups with friends, but she appraised them all the same as if considering whether she would let them come to where she held court.  She found herself a little critical of the girlfriends who appeared too dowdy, feeling now that she was a cut above them – sassy and in control of what she wanted from life.  She had a feeling that if these were the kinds of rewards she got from dressing this way she was going to be buying a lot of variations on this outfit.

“Would you like a drink?”

Jo turned to the sound of the voice and realised that this man had crept up on her blindside.  He was perhaps a few years older than herself, but well-groomed with a tidy beard and in clothes that looked the smarter side of casual without making him seem like the typical man around here.

“Sure.”  Jo responded, smiling.

She had not thought this through but the tingle her body gave her knew the best way to cap this evening’s adventure was to at least attract a man and see where it would go from there.  The man placed a replica of her drink in front of her and then sat down on the sofa beside Jo.

“Matt.”  He said.

“Jo – Josephine.”  She lied, her full name was Joanne, but that felt too mundane.  “You are confident that I’d accept.”

Matt smiled.  “It’s no use going into something half-heartedly.”

“True.”  Jo took the wine and sipped it.  “You got it right.”

“That was not too hard.”  He nodded to the barman.

“But many men would not think to do that.”

“I’m not like many men and I feel you’re not like many women.”

Jo knew these were lines but she found she enjoyed this game.  “No, I am a queen, a goddess.  Welcome to my court.”  She gestured to the table and sofa, but then smiled broadly to suggest it was a jest.

“You are interesting, Josephine.”

“I like to think so.”

Jo, widened the stance of her legs, and ran her hands over her leather covered thighs; she unzipped her jacket a little further to give hints of her body held and shown off in the devore below.  She hoped that this was enough of a signal for now.  In the last few moments, Jo realised, her body had taken another step.  Already excited by how she dressed and was behaving, it was going further, demanding that she had sex with this man.  Matt’s hand came to rest on her thigh and Jo simpered at the move, loving how it reminded her how her legs were sheathed so tightly in leather.  Gently she took it and moved it to the top of her leggings, almost startled by her daring, but welcoming it as Matt’s touch rested on her mound, showing her how aroused she was.  Jo felt in control and she loved the sense that she could engineer the kind of encounter she knew she was hungry for.

****

As they walked up to the door of Jo’s house, with Matt’s arm resting across her tightly held bum, Jo realised what she had locked herself into.  Of course, this might only prove to be a one-night stand, though there was no question now that it would not end in sex.  Jo had little doubt given how she had built up to this, she would come very quickly.  However, if this was the beginning of her next relationship, she knew Matt would not be with Joanne the rather dull businesswoman out on the weekend in baggy jeans, sweatshirt and trainers, it would be with Josephine would had to have her body clad in the sexiest leathers.  She kissed Matt deeply then turned to open the door; as she stepped inside in her long boots, Jo knew that once again this evening she was stepping onto a new path in her life, one there was no way back from.  From now on people might see a blonde-haired, leather wearing woman sashaying down this street, but it would be her, that was for sure.

Illustrated Leather Stories

These are some of the illustrated stories I have produced using images I have garnered from the internet. These have generally appeared on the Hypnotics Collective too. This selection features characters being introduced to leather clothing, often as part of other changes being made to them and through mind control.

 

Witch Queen: The Hood

Excited by chlestdh’s Witch Queen world, I produced this short story set in that context; it has been authorised by him.  He has his own blog at: http://chlestdh1.blogspot.co.uk/?zx=e314b218161dbb59 

Witch Queen: The Hood

“Jess, you can work tidying up the room over the stables.  I’ve not been in there since those women soldiers left, but from how rowdy they were I can only imagine that it is a mess.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  Jessica responded politely to Mrs. Tyler, the innkeeper’s wife.

Jessica had only arrived at ‘The Three Crows’ two days earlier.  Her uncle had been able to negotiate for her to be employed here, the previous month.  As a cattle drover he travelled the county far more regularly than her parents or her brother.  He had said he had stayed at the inn quite often when moving cattle too or from the highlands along the border with Elstrand.  Though the road was a comparatively busy one, it was apparently difficult to attract young women, ideal as barmaids, to work at the inn.  Those that did come, it seemed, left soon after arriving.  Aside from Mrs. Tyler who was in her fifties and her sister-in-law who had to be older, there was only Geraldine who was so slender and unfeminine that they would call her Gerald and she would pass as a boy whenever sent to market.  The other was Tak who was a strong but slow-witted young woman given much to smiling.

Jessica was grateful for the job.  She could keep house as well as any young woman and working inside was better than being in the fields in all weathers.  She knew the money she could send home would be a real boon and protect her family a little from the vagaries of the climate and the crops.  Whilst there had only been skirmishes along the border with Elstrand, there was a concern that the war in Grent could easily spread here.  In such times, coin was of far more use than a field of barley.

“I am not familiar with women as soldiers.”  Mrs. Tyler continued.  “But I hear that it’s normal, North of the border.”

“What colour armour did they wear?  Not blood red?  Of course not, blue.  It was brown; the brown of a horse chestnut?”

Mrs. Tyler nodded.  “Yes, that was it.  I saw it when one of them came over to buy an entire barrel of ale and one of the clay bottles of gin.  We made good money.  There were three of them, well six in all, because they had three prisoners, though they were in rough robes with hoods.  You’d think they were men, but by the way they shuffled I guessed they were women though dressed like that, you couldn’t really tell.  Anyway, I imagine someone came in the night to take them, because they were gone in the morning and instead the three soldiers had three slaves with them, female slaves.  I sleep like the door post and creak as much too, but I was saying to Imelda, the other Mrs. Tyler, I am meaning, I said I think they were on their last day of duty.  That was why they got drunk and that’s why someone took their prisoners and brought down their slaves.”

“Yes, that sounds very likely, ma’am.  The chestnut brown armour is that of the scouting forces of the Witch Queen’s army.”

“Is that a fact now?  How do you know that?”

“Oh, a friend of mine, Hazel, she knew all about Elstrand and the Witch Queen.  She could draw and write some.  She did a little book on rags about the different soldiers and the colour of their armour.  She said that one day she’d walk to Elstrand to see if she’d got it right.”

“Did she?”

“I think she did.  I can read a little too, you know.  My grandma taught me so I could read her stories when she couldn’t rise from bed.  Hazel left the note under a stone by the door but it got so wet the writing all ran.  I guess if she went anywhere, it was to Elstrand.  I hope she’s happy there.”

“Well, you hear all kinds of stories of the magics they do.  They say there are no men up there, none at all.”

“Hazel said there are some but they’re kept like a bull you’ll just use to sire calves.”

“I’ve heard they keep some of the women changed by magic as milking cows anyway.”

Jessica remembered Hazel’s drawing of women with distended breasts.

“I said to Hazel that it sounded like the whole country was like a field of cattle then, especially with the women wearing all this leather.  That upset her, she said I didn’t understand how beautiful and strong the women were or how good leather can feel, if it is tight.”

“Maybe she was right there, though the only leather round here are our boots and my Alfred’s apron, though that has got a good shine on it.”

Jessica remembered the apron and agreed there was something alluring about it; something that she could not place.

“Well, I had better go and see what state the rooms are in.  I am sure soldiers are soldiers all the same no matter whether man or woman.”

“Yes, Jess, I have no doubt you are right in that.”

Turning to her work, Jessica filled a pail from the pump in the yard.  Then, with a mop and broom awkwardly under her arm, the scrubbing brush in her apron pocket, dusting cloths tied to her belt and washing ones in the water already, she headed over to the stables.  She manoeuvred carefully up the stairs on the outside, to the rooms above.  As she opened the door, the smell of stale beer and spirits assaulted her.  The curtains were still closed.  She propped the door open and then threw back the curtains, even opening the small paned windows behind them to let in more fresh air.  She knew what harm stale air and the humours it held could do and she had no desire to breathe them in.

First she collected up the discarded barrel; it was empty.  The clay bottle was still half full; Mr. Tyler could easily sell the remainder once more.  Then Jess stripped the beds and hung the linen at the top of the stairs outside and the quilts from the roof beams.   Most of the pillows were on the floor and she picked them up and put them on the large trunk at the foot of one of the beds.  Now she flaked some soap into the pail and began mopping the floor.  As she moved one of the beds to clean the floor beside it better, she saw something lying there.  It looked like a wedge of tailored leather with thongs coming from the sides of it.  She stooped to pick it up.  As she did, it fell into shape and, noticing the holes at the front, she realised it was a hood.  The thongs down the back were clearly to lace it into place.  The quality of the red leather fitted her first impression: this was something left by the Elstrand Scouts.  The leather was smooth on both sides and very soft, she guessed so that it would fit well to the shape of the wearer’s face.  She thought back to Hazel’s pictures.  It has always been the slaves who had been masked with leather hoods like this.  Had this belonged to one of those transported from here?  It seemed likely.  Perhaps the Scouts had anticipated gaining more slaves and this had been left over when they had only got three.

Jessica had no idea why she felt the urge to put the hood on.  However, she put down her mop and lifted it to her face.  She pulled it close at the back, but realised her hair was preventing the two sides coming together.  Then she remembered that Hazel’s images had always shown the slaves with their hair braided and emerging from the hole at the top of their hoods.  She found herself lifting up her long hair and lining it up awkwardly with the hole.  Quickly she pulled the two sides of the back together under it and let her hair cascade down over the leather.  Loosely she knotted the thongs together so that the hood stayed in place when she took her hands away.  For a moment it seemed an unusual thing to do but quickly that turned to the sense that it had been precisely right.  As Jessica looked out through the carefully stitched eye-holes she felt she was viewing the world in a different way.  Sounds around her were muted and these effects meant that she felt more focused on her feelings.  If this was how it was with just the hood on, what would it be like to be laced into one of the leather suits the slaves wore?  What had Hazel called them?  Slave-skins: that had been the term.  Now Jessica understood some of the fascination that Hazel had had with the women of Elstrand.

Jessica realised that she was incredibly aroused.  Her nipples were straining against her bodice and her underskirt was sodden with juice from her sex.  Whilst she had occasionally indulged in playing with her body, there were few opportunities when at home or here at the inn, when she did not run the risk of being witnessed by family members, or now, by her fellow workers.  However, in that instant she really felt the urge to kneel here on the floor and twist her nipples and plunge her fingers deep into her cunt and let out a long moan of pleasure.  Jessica was startled when she realised that was precisely what she had done.  Her skirt and underskirt were hitched up exposing her sex and her bodice was unlaced to allow the pleasurable contact on her breasts.  Scared that Mrs. Tyler or one of the others would walk in and see her as a slattern, Jessica jumped up and tore off the hood.  Nervously she pulled down her skirts and straightened her bodice.  She tugged at her hair to tidy it.  She pushed the hood into the large pocket of her apron.  To dismiss the thoughts she had been swept by, she swabbed the floor with the mop very forcefully into every corner and then got down on her knees again, but this time to scrub vigorously.

****

“Are you feeling alright Jess?”  Mrs. Tyler asked as she passed the last dish to Jessica to dry off.

“Yes, Mrs. Tyler, I am well.”

“It is just that your cheeks are glowing.”

“Are they?”  Jessica asked self-consciously.

She rested the back of her hand on her cheek but snatched it away as it reminded her too much of the feel of the hood.

“Probably because you’ve been working so hard; like a demon.  I know you want to impress me but I don’t want you slumping down from exhaustion by the end of the week.  Between jobs take a rest, have some cider: the other girls do.  I am not a slave-driver and I already know that you are no sluggard so you don’t have to prove it to me.  There’ll be busy times like harvest home and then you can take on your demon form, having saved enough good humours for then.”

“Thank you Mrs. Tyler.”  Jessica said, smiling.

She had not been conscious of working particularly hard, but was glad it had made a good impression.

“I also like how you have your hair now in that long plait.”

This was something else Jessica was barely conscious of having done and tentatively ran her fingers over it, guessing at why her body had encouraged her to, indeed made her, do this.

“Erm, well, I find it more practical when working.”

“Well you did a good job on those rooms above the stables.  Not everyone wants to rent those but if they do they’ll have a clean and fresh-smelling place to rest their head.”

Jessica felt a glow of pride.  She realised she enjoyed being able to serve Mrs. Tyler well and get praised in return.

****

The bright sunrise light glinted into Jessica’s eye.  Had she just come awake?  Had she not been walking all night anyway?  She shook her head to clear her thoughts; her long braid skidded across the leather mask tightly laced to her head.  Jessica stopped walking and lifted her fingers to her face.  Part of her was unsurprised to find that it was covered with the smooth leather of the hood.  She tried to think back over recent events but it was all distant and dreamlike.  She sought to accept that what she recalled were real memories and now knew she had gone to bed but had risen some hours into the night and dressed.  She had found out the hood from where she had hidden it beneath her bed and then, unbolting the rear door, had left the inn.  Outside she had taken time to lace the hood tightly on to her as she knew she needed to do.  That done, she had felt the irresistible urge to walk North; to follow the road to Elstrand.  She tried not to admit it, but she understood that she now yearned to be in that land and to become what this hood showed she deserved to be: the slave-slut of a Scout.

Now the road was tipping downwards and she guessed that she had come through the pass.  How far it was to the Elstrand border she did not know.  However, such questions did not plague her; in fact she found that they faded quickly from her mind.  While she tried to shake off the slave-mind that the hood seemed to be instilling into her, Jessica found she was not up to the task.  Passively she walked on, barely conscious of passing time and certainly not of any tiredness in her body or of her hunger.  Those things would be handled for her by her mistress once she had found her.  At that thought Jessica gave a pleasurable shudder and looked forward to when she was out of these loose clothes and in the wonderful tight leather slave-skin.  Then ahead of her as she walked on she saw a wall stretching off in both directions from the road.  The way it was constructed appeared as if it had been meant to pen the residents of Elstrand in.  A squat square tower sat by the road and Jessica walked inexorably towards it.  The banner flying from it bore a design which she knew from Hazel’s pictures was that of Elstrand.  Her body quivered in anticipation recognising that all that it needed was now so close.

As she came up to the tower, two female soldiers emerged.  They were dressed in the green armour of the border guards, a mainstream unit that Jessica knew from Hazel, tended not to recruit slaves.  However, they were certainly responsible for handing them on to the proper authorities and Jessica trusted that they would give her to whichever Scout needed to have her.

The taller guard, with pale blonde hair, walked forward; her gloved hand resting on the hilt of her sword.  Her comrade, shorter and brown haired, stood holding a loaded crossbow as if wary of some trick.

“Hello, welcome to Elstrand.”  The blonde said.  “Who are you?”

“I, I, ... I am.”  Jessica stuttered as she tried to think clearly.

“Well, that’s a slut-slave’s hood if I ever saw one but the clothes certainly don’t match.  I can’t really believe the women down there wear such things.”  The brunette commented.

“She’d not be the first to turn up here with a hood on.  Do you remember that one a couple of months back?  She’d even made herself one.  What was her name Hay-something; Haz-something.”

“I remember Captain Rowan took her; named her lelah.”

“Yes, that was it.  Not tall enough for my taste, but eager.  I think she climaxed the moment the proper leather touched her, snatched at that hood she was offered as if she was going to lace herself into it.  Maybe she did.”

“Well, if Scouts are going to be dropping items from their claiming bags when they go out over the border, are we to be surprised?  I can only imagine what kind of thoughts this one is having; probably desperate to get on the inside of her very own slave-skin.”

“Slave, come forward.”  The blonde directed.

Jessica complied not questioning that she was responding to being called ‘slave’.  The guard went behind her and fiddled with the hood.

“There’s a name and rank here impressed into the leather.  This hood belongs to Major Scorpia Hagen, so the slave belongs to her too.”

“That makes sense: she passed through here just two days back.”

“I wonder how far she’s got.  Get Kasia to send a signal up the line, she might be just at the next horse station or the one beyond.”

However, before the brown-haired guard could follow the order, noise came from the woodland to the side of the road.  The slender trunks rising from thicker bases suggested that at one time it had been regularly coppiced but now had been allowed to grow free.  All three women looked in the direction of the noise as a deer ran out.  It was quickly followed by a woman who halted abruptly, a javelin in her hand; she looked ready to down the animal.  Her clothes were rough and practical, and Jessica dimly wondered if she was a full-time huntress or a hungry peasant woman driven to it.

“Put up your weapon.”  The blonde guard commanded.

The huntress looked suddenly at her but then let her hands fall; her eyes no doubt taking in the crossbow now pointed at her.  She dared to take a glance as the deer hesitated but then ran up the road and then off into the woods on the opposite side.

“Come forward.”  The blonde guard commanded.

“But we are not over the border of Elstrand, I am this side of it.”  The woman protested and she indicated the wall.

The guard chuckled.  “No, this is just the border post.  As per the Armin-Waldeck Treaty, the border itself begins at the peak you crossed back there.  You are in Elstrand and subject to its rules.  Now, do you have a visa document?”

“No, but I can pay for one.”  The woman said frantically searching for coins.

“No you can’t.  They must be issued by the Chancellery of the Witch Queen.  If you lack a visa then you come under the Second Act of The Doctrine.”

“And what does that say?”

“You really don’t know or you simply don’t want to say it?”  The guard jibed.

The woman stayed quiet.

“Any woman over the age of eighteen who is not of High Elstrand but found in our lands is enslaved either for general labour or, if attractive enough, as a slave-slut.”  The guard continued.  “Are you over eighteen summers old?”

The woman did not respond.

“Answer me!”

“Yes, I am over eighteen.”

“Good, you will now be enslaved.  We have little capacity for them here at the border, so you will be sent North to the capital.  The Chancellery of the Witch Queen can deal with you there.  Once cleaned up, I am sure, however, that you have more than enough beauty that they will make a slave-slut of you.  You will never leave Elstrand, you will never be free again, but you will never think for yourself again, so these things will actually bring you pleasure.”

The woman turned to run, her bag banging against her.  Jessica could only admire her speed.  However, quickly another guard emerged from the tower, and sprinted passed her colleagues after the woman; a long lash in her hands.  Then as the huntress reached the start of the slope and naturally slowed, the guard whipped out and the glossy leather caught around the fleeing woman’s ankle sending her sprawling.  The woman turned over on her back and seemed to be quivering.  Jessica expected her to begin struggling; to start trying to remove the whip from her ankle.  However, instead she went up on to her knees and then stood, but with her head bowed.  Slowly she walked back to the guard with the whip and stood before her.

With all the activity, Jessica had not noticed that the blonde haired guard had gone into the hut.  She now returned with a tankard.  She brought it over the woman and lifted her head.  She then pressed the tankard to her lips and forced the liquid inside.  Within moments, however, the woman was drinking it freely, with dribbles of the black fluid dropping on to her coat.  The third guard now released the whip from her ankle and led the woman to the tower.

“They’ll soon have her in the skin-tight leather.  She’ll make a good one.”  The dark-haired guard said.  “Don’t you think, sergeant?”

The blonde sergeant made a face.  “No, whatever her background she is too aloof for my liking.  I prefer them all soft and submissive, just like this one.”  She nodded to Jessica.  “It’s a shame that a Scout has already claimed her.”

“There’ll be others.”

“Have no doubt.  The female population of Grent will be ours before long.”

“They’ll not bring them up here: too many mouths to feed and the slave price will drop in the markets like a stone in a well.”

“Agreed, but with the border moving so much farther South, who’s going to be in those lands among all that fresh slave flesh?  Border guards like us, of course.”

The three guards laughed.

“Right, Jenae you take our two new slaves inside.  Make sure the huntress is caged as that juice will wear off before she is properly enslaved.  I think the other one’s halfway there already.”  The sergeant ordered the dark-haired guard.  “Kasia, you get up top and send a signal for Major Hagen that one of her slaves has come home and if she would be so gracious she can come here to collect her.”

Jessica was taken inside and led to small room with a bed.  Food was brought to her which she ate ravenously.  At every stage she was referred to as ‘slave’ and she found that now so natural that there was no question about it.  Time seemed to lose meaning.  It passed but it was no concern of hers.  Instead her mind was filled with the image of a Scout looming over her and making use of her body.  All that remained to appear in her imaginings were the details of the face.

****

Jessica was being exercised outside the tower by Guardswoman Jenae.  She had no idea how many days she had been there, but as the three women in chestnut brown leather rode up, Jessica knew the next stage of her life was about to begin.  She immediately felt an affinity for these women that she did not feel with the border guards.  Sergeant Riata Eltz emerged from the tower as the horses were reined in.

“Major.”  The sergeant saluted to her chest and her two guards stood to attention behind her.

“Sergeant.”  The Scout returned her salute.  “I believe I was careless when I was over the border.”

“Well, this woman has arrived wanting access into Elstrand.”  Riata gestured to Jessica.  “She wears a hood with your details upon it.”

The major laughed.  “I see.  I neglected to check my claiming bags when I got back.  We always take a few extra when we go across the border.”

The major jumped down from the horse and Jessica made her way over to her.  She stopped a few steps away with her head bowed.

“Oh yes, well I have been lucky.  This is a nice submissive one, well fleshed out.  It will be so sweet easing her into her slave-skin.  You’ll like that won’t you?”

“Yes ... yes, mistress.”

“Excellent, she knows her place.  By Siv, what is it going to be like when we conquer Grent?  Wonderful, sergeant, eh?”

“Yes, Major, I am sure.”

“Right.  You have a room I can use?  It seems unfair to leave this one without her slave-skin for any longer.”

“Yes, if you’ll come with me, there is a good room in the tower to use.”

“Chayton, bring a gathering bag.”  The major called to one of her comrades.

In moments Jessica was walking beside the major who ran her hands over body, cupping her breasts, clutching at her buttocks and sliding her hand between Jessica’s thighs already wet from the sexual juice flowing from her cunt.  She was guided back into the tower and up to a large room more luxurious than the ones she had seen before.  A large bed stood in the centre of it and a long mirror to one side.  Jessica felt excited throughout her body as she knew she would soon truly become a slave-slut and properly her mistress’s property.  Chayton entered with a large leather bag but was soon gone leaving Jessica alone with the woman who was increasingly beautiful to her.

Major Hagen was probably ten years older than Jessica and slightly taller.  Her armour did not conceal her strength and Jessica knew that beneath it must be muscles.  Her dark blonde hair was short, shaved at the back and coming down at a steady angle to hang far longer at the front, bracketing her face.  She had silver rings in descending sizes along her ears and a silver stud in her nose.  She stood for some moments looking at Jessica then drew her dagger and cut through her bodice and slashed away her skirts.  Then she removed her boots and the pair of hose below.  Jessica was left naked bar the slave hood she wore.

“Yes, that is very good.  I am a lucky one.”  Scorpia grinned as she ran her glove hands over Jessica’s waist then groped her ample breasts.  “Yes, they are good, there’ll not be much need to change them.”

Jessica felt gratitude that her mistress was so pleased with her body.

“Let’s get that pretty body of yours decorated though.”

Scorpia stripped off her gloves then went over to the leather bag.  She pulled out a small box and opened it.  She took out various pieces of silver jewellery and then returned to Jessica.  She began chanting and her eyes seemed to darken.  She slipped her fingers inside the leather hood stretching it as far as it could go and pressed down on Jessica’s nose.  There was a momentary sensation and she knew there was now a ring curving from it.  In the next few moments, she was equipped with studs in her tongue and another ring in her lips.  Soon silver bars sat in each nipple, through her erect clitoris and rings down her labia.

Scorpia admired her handiwork and returned to the bag pulling out the red slave-skin.  Jessica felt weak as she saw it, knowing it was for her.  She staggered a little but her mistress held her up and guided her feet into it.  In minutes Jessica’s legs were constrained by the tight red leather.  Then her arms were slid in and the leather came tight on her breasts.  Scorpia went behind her and began to pull the laces tight.  Jessica gasped as step-by-step she was enclosed into the clinging leather, only her sex emerging naked from within.  Jessica was handed elbow-length gloves and loved pulling them on.  Finally she was buckled into riding boots, though these had a platform and a long slender heel.  As she stepped forward in them she realised they tilted her body in a delightful way, making her bum sway as she walked.

“Excellent, excellent, oh yes.  As good as I expected.  Now the final step, to erase your previous life entirely and turn your mind into that of slave-slut.”

Scorpia turned back to the bag and supporting herself on the bedpost stepped into a harness with a large black dildo at the front of it.  It was covered in pulsing green and purple ridges that resembled veins, but which Jessica sensed contained strong magic.  Jessica knew it would enter her and she spread her legs stroking at her hungry cunt with her gloved fingers.  Scorpia grinned widely.

“Perhaps there is little need for this, but I am told you will derive such pleasure once you have become a real sex object.  Now I need to concentrate.”

Scorpia began a rhythmic chant.  However, a couple of times she broke off and started again.  Jessica was still gazing down at her leather-clad body wondering if her breasts had really grown.

“Look up at me, look at my eyes.”

Jessica did as commanded, but the blackness there faded a little.  Scorpia closed her eyes and then, opening them, began again.  This time complete blackness came to them and Jessica felt everything that remained of her as Jessica, fall into them.  Then the dildo slid into the cunt that had been waiting so long for it.  The thrusting began and Jessica moaned and grunted at the pleasure.  At times Scorpia hesitated and began a chant once more, but as an orgasm built steadily within in her, the woman that had been Jessica lost her identity and was turned into a living sex toy.  Red light flashed into its vision, altering forever everything contained in the toy’s mind.  Then black, then red again, then it ceased.

The slave-slut rocked as the sensations running through its body climaxed again, pulsing into every part, bringing it pleasure at what it was, at how it was dressed and ornamented.  Above all the sensation shook right through it as it knew it belonged entirely to Scorpia Hagen.

“The Dark Lady, I am tired.  Kassandra is right: I need more practice.  You’d think taking two slaves in four days would help.  Come slave, now tell me, who and what you are.”

“This slave-slut is yours Mistress.  This slave-slut is to serve you.  This slave-slut loves you Mistress.”

“Excellent.  Now, ‘slave-slut’ is too generic.  You, my delight, will be known as sinahl.  Do you understand sinahl?”

“Yes, Mistress.”  sinahl responded.

“One last time tell me what you are sinahl and then you can lick me out, I need it after all that riding.”

“sinahl is your slave-slut Mistress.”

“Excellent.”

Scorpia began to unbuckle the brown leather cuirass over her chest exposing a form fitting leather top below.  She unlaced this without removing it, so that her breasts could hang loose.  Then she lay back on the bed and unlaced the tight leather jodhpurs she wore to exposed her bare pussy below.

“Come sinahl, here, let us see how good you are at licking me out.  I have a feeling there is something naturally good about you.  Maybe you were born to be a slave.”

Scorpia shifted so her legs draped over the bed and she lay back with her cunt exposed.  sinahl needed not further command.  It eased its head, smooth from the leather than coated it and its tongue flicked out and up and down its mistress’s lips.  Was the tongue longer than when the slave had been Jessica?  sinahl had no point of comparison having no memory of life before being sinahl.  It closed its full lips on its mistress’s clit, sucking, gently wrapping its tongue around the warm throbbing erection.  Keeping this up, sinahl softly eased a couple of its gloved fingers into mistress, then pushing more so that the pulsing of the hand coincided with the licks of its tongue.  Mistress abruptly went rigid and then squirmed as if trying to pull herself back across the bed.  Then she let rip with a series of loud grunts, her legs thrust out before her.  sinahl withdrew feeling the task was complete.  Clumsily, Mistress reached out for sinahl’s head, patting it in satisfaction.

“sinahl, yes, you deserve this.  Stand, come.”

sinahl obeyed and bowed her head down as Mistress gestured her to do.  Mistress buckled a red leather collar around sinahl’s neck and muttered some words to seal it closed.  sinahl jerked with an abrupt orgasm as she recognised that the final step of her utter enslavement was complete.

****

Having ridden for some time, sinahl saw they were in a different landscape now.  It had dimly watched the countryside they had come through, up to now far more focused on the delightful sensation of the horn of its mistress’s saddle pressed against its cunt lips.  As Scouts’ slaves were transported regularly on horseback, unlike other slave-sluts they had a leather patch buckled in place over their sex.  However, sinahl had found that with small motions it could press the patch down on the saddle horn and rub at its cunt below.  The time had passed in a series of orgasms so that the saddle beneath sinahl was now slick with its sexual juice.

Ahead rode Sergeant Chayton and Corporal Yesillyn.  Yesillyn had the sedated huntress laid across her saddle; stripped of her rough clothes and put into plain grey ones to wear while she was taken to where she would be enslaved.  Now they crested the hill and sinahl could see that a short way ahead of them was a large building made of a ruddy stone.  As they rode toward it sinahl imagined that this would be their refuge for the night.  It was curved like an oval coming to points at either end.  A banner of magenta, with that pointed oval replicated in gold, flew above the compound.

“We’ll stop here at the Abbey of the Peak for tonight.”  Scorpia said.

“Yes, Major.”

Chayton responded and turned her horse to the abbey’s entrance.  The Scout banged on the gates; a panel slid open and a face ringed with magenta leather looked out.

“Sister, we are in need of refreshment.  Please give us access to your guest hall.”

“Certainly.”

In the next few minutes the main gate was opened and the three Scouts and the two slaves were led in.  The Scouts jumped down and lifted off the slaves.

“Sister Portal, please take this slave to your Abbess.  We present her as a gift; a stray from over the border.”

“Oh, that is a wonderful gift.  She’ll have no idea of the improvements we can make to her.  You will see her completed before you leave.”

“Good.”

sinahl wondered how its fellow slave would appear.  Nothing could match its own lovely red slave-skin, but it was pleased that the woman from the beyond the border would get a chance to enjoy what Elstrand could offer.

****

sinahl was lounging on cushions at the foot of Mistress.  It had attended Mistress in the room she had been allocated and Mistress had wonderfully worked more magic to enlarge sinahl’s breasts so that the leather covering them squeaked beneath their pressure.  It had been fed with bowls brought for it and now lay patiently in the central hall of the convent awaiting what would happen next.  sinahl had gathered that it was something to do with the new slave they had brought from the border.  Now it sensed a change in the room and looked the way it saw everyone else’s eyes gazing.

sinahl barely recognised the slave brought from the border.  Its grey clothes had been replaced by a very restrictive shiny black slave-skin.  Its hood had a mouth hole and its lips, soft, puffy bulged from it.  However, the slave’s eyes showed that it had been transformed further and within it would simply know its life as a slave-slut of this abbey.  Its collar was etched with the insignia of the Sisters of Climax.  It wore a lattice over its slave-skin to hold up its enlarged breasts, the nipples of which were extraordinarily long.  Then sinahl noticed that unlike itself, this slave’s leash led not to its collar but was split into three.  One slender chain led to the ring in its nose; the other two to those that pierced its nipples, that emerged through slits in the leather.  Its cunt dripped with every step it took and its clit was prominent and rigid, the bell that pierced it chiming so gently, with every pulse that ran into it.

The slave was led to an ‘x’ shaped structure laid horizontally in the centre of the room.  Shackled face down from it was a novice, her own body naked bar leather thongs on her ankles and wrists.  Her head and body had been shaved, perhaps as a sign of purity.  Beneath her already lay two slaves, locked into another structure, their heads raised up so their tongues could lap at her nipples.  The new slave was brought to the third position and locked in place.  Its tongue would engage with the novice’s clitoris and cunt.  sinahl realised that its efforts would be monitored as closely as it assumed the novice’s reaction would be.

The abbess stepped forward and spoke in a booming voice.

“Novice Marea now undergoes the final test to see if she is worthy of becoming a full Sister of the Climax.  For one hour she will be pleasured by these slaves.  In that time she must not allow herself to orgasm.  If she does she will be turned into a slave-slut so as to best to serve her sisters.  Once the time is passed, she must allow herself to genuinely orgasm within five minutes otherwise, again, she will be enslaved.  Only a Sister who can build and yet control her sex is worthy of worshipping The Dark Lady with her body, mind and soul.”

“Siv – The Dark Lady.”  The other sisters intoned.

The ‘x’ was now lowered and the trio of slaves began their work.  The abbess stood over the newest slave but soon seemed content at its efforts.  It alternated licking at the novice with thrusting its enlarged breasts against her cunt as if each was an oversized dildo seeking entry.  The abbess then scrutinised the face of the novice.  Her eyes were closed and she was silently mouthing some mantra.  One of the other sisters came over the abbess and they spoke for some moments; then the abbess went to the newest slave and unshackled it.  Obediently it was directed by the abbess to stand on its high boots and totter around to the novice’s head.

The new slave began toying with itself, letting out long pleasurable moans that sinahl found incredibly arousing and it was sure many of the others in the room, certainly those who lacked the control of a full Sister of the Climax, would feel the same.

“Yes, this leather, so smooth, so tight to my body; my breasts soooo hard with the sensation.  Let yourself go Marea, let yourself fall into the pleasure.  You have felt my tongue, my nipples pressing so hard on you.  Imagine the sensation of you in your own slave-skin, feeling those sensations.  It is so easy, slide softly into it, give yourself to the slavery.”

“No, no, nooo!”  Marea let out a shrill cry.

With her eyes closed tight, the novice appeared to be trying to shake off the feelings of the rising climax.

“That is it, you can feel yourself changing: you are already becoming a slave-slut.”

“No, no, no …”  Marea’s voice faded and grunts and then a long moan came out instead.

It was clear to all that Marea was climaxing.  She bucked against the frame that held her and then juice squirted from her.  sinhal felt a jolt of pleasure as it knew that this novice would now become a slave-slut.  Others in the room were clearly pleased with that outcome.

“Marea has failed the test.  She will serve this order, but not as a Sister.  She will now be turned into a slave-slut.”

“Yes, yes!”  Marea let out a shout as her body convulsed with a new round of pleasure; she looked weak from the sensation and stumbled.

“Bring me all that I require.”

In the next few moments the abbess was brought a black slave-skin of the kind needed for a slave-slut of the order.  Around the hall everyone sat in silence as the abbess began and almost inaudible chant and step by step pierced Marea’s nose, nipples, cunt lips and her clitoris.  Then her tongue and her ears gained a whole series of studs.  Even these changes appeared to alter her.  Gold rings now hung from her body making it lascivious.  sinhal watched the woman’s reaction and wondered if she was truly conscious of what she was being made.  Now the abbess pressed down on Marea’s lips and they began to become plumper.  Soon they were shiny and welcoming almost like a second pussy.  Her pussy itself was altered under the abbess’s touch with the pierced lips becoming permanently engorged and slippery with juice.  Her clitoris stood erect and would no longer retreat.  Then with her own eyes closed and now chanting aloud, the abbess grasped Marea’s breasts and they grew, becoming rapidly far larger and with their nipples hard and prominent. 

It was clear that Marea was enjoying all that was being done to her.  As the abbess continued her body became hairless, with smooth, slightly glistening, unblemished skin.  However, this was soon concealed.  As the abbess chanted, two of her aides brought forward the black slave-skin that would be hers.  Quickly she was laced into it, pulling tight on her reshaped body.  Then her identity began to be erased when the hood, just like sinahl’s was pulled over her head and laced tight.  Gloves and long, high-heeled boots were soon added.  A collar was locked in place and finally the abbess reached to strap on the harness that would keep the almost slave-slut’s breasts constrained.  Then the abbess was handed a dildo.  Rather than wearing a harness, she grasped it and thrust it into Marea’s yielding cunt.  With each thrust the abbess went close to the new slave’s head and whispered something and with this action, all the sisters in the room intoned ‘a slave-slut for Siv’.  sinahl found this repeated incantation hypnotic and that it was drifting into recollecting the sensation of being enslaved.

When sinahl was conscious of its surroundings again, it saw that Marea was no longer Marea but just another slave-slut, indistinguishable from the others used by the abbey.

“Slave 8-11 welcome slave 8-12.”

sinahl watched as the 8-11 who had been the one brought from the border approached 8-12 who had been Marea.  The two slave-sluts stood apart for the moment, moving slightly so that their nipples collided then locked together, their large breasts crushing the other’s as their hands sought out each other’s cunt and their tongues chased.  Around the room, sisters and slave-sluts mimicked the scene.  sinahl was pleased that Marea had found the correct path and would wake forever more as a slave-slut.

****

They had left the Abbey of the Peak behind and had ridden for some time; now they were entering a fortified town that Mistress had said was her home.  Soon they were coming into the courtyard behind high walls that sinahl understood was where the Scouts were based.  Soldiers hurried out to take the Major’s horse and those of her troops.  sinahl was lifted down by Mistress and proudly walked behind her, led on her leash.  It was pretty oblivious as it was taken through the barracks then up stairs to rooms which belonged to its Mistress.  They were plain, but to sinahl were wonderful because it knew this was its new home.

sinahl was led into the bedroom and its leash tied to a ring on the wall.  It had no thought of escape, but knew that this was about emphasising what it was: a slave-slut as if it was not apparent from the skin-tight leather it had been laced into or the high-heeled boots or the collar at its neck.  sinahl lay casually toying with its body and the new jewellery it wore, not questioning why it felt these things were new, simply enjoying the fact they were gifts of Mistress.  As was common for slave-sluts, sinahl was not bored or really aware of how much time had gone by.  However, it was roused from its slave-mind state by the sound of three pairs of footsteps.  Another Scout appeared at the door leading her slave behind her; sinahl’s Mistress followed on.  sinahl knelt up, its gloved hands resting on the shiny tight leather of its thighs that were spread so as to best display its now naked and moist pussy to its best.

“sinahl, my delight, this is Captain Rowan and her slave lelah.  lelah is to remain here while its mistress and I talk.  I am sure you will welcome lelah and will have fun with it.”

sinahl looked at lelah.  They had a great deal in common; it too walked in that sensuous way in its high-heeled boots.  Its body had been laced into tight red leather, its breasts were large and excited; a hood concealed its features.  It was shorter and more slender than sinahl and there was something about it that sinahl felt familiar.  Quickly its leash was tied beside sinahl’s and it lowered itself to the floor.  sinahl was incredibly aroused and grasped lelah’s head and brought it in close for a kiss.  Beyond the heady scent of the leather they wore, there was an aroma that sinahl found familiar.  As lelah grasped sinahl’s breasts and they rolled, thrusting their bodies together, it was not simply to delight their mistresses,  to tempt them to continue to watch, but because they felt genuine excitement at being with each other.  Neither was aware, nor their mistresses either, that Jessica and Hazel had been reunited, living out for real a scenario that once would have only been conjured in Hazel’s frenzied dreams.