Karen – I Am slave One


The auditorium was filled with a few hundred people. The man on stage was ending its presentation.

“Here is… slave-one.”

There was no applause when the curtain behind him moved, but there was a murmur of shock when it appeared.

It was a tall slim woman shaped body, wrapped in a shiny rubber coating. It was walking slowly on leather, knee high, laced up ballet toe boots. Its ankles were wrapped in stainless steel cuffs with a bright red trim, and linked with a short chain. Over her knees, more red trimmed steel cuffs were tightly circling its legs, linked by a shorter chain, not helping forcing it to take small steps, or perhaps, helping it make small steps.

Its waist was incredibly thin, crushed by a black leather corset with red trim. The corset was long, covering it from the hips to just below her ample breasts. A red trimmed stainless steel chastity belt was circling its tiny waist. It appeared to be even tighter than her corset.

The crotch band was very tight, obviously digging into the soft flesh between its legs. It was not yielding anything.

Its wrists, wrapped in more red trimmed steel cuffs, were directly linked to the side of its corset. Her neck was kept erect with a wide steel collar, red trimmed of course. itsr head, covered by a latex hood, hid its eyes behind dark lenses. Its mouth was covered by a rubber flap, held to the sides of the hood by locked rolling buckles. More buckles, on each side of its head at eye level, provided indications that a blindfold could also be applied.

It finally reached center stage and did a slow revolution on itself, showing her back, that the corset was fully closed and locked with more padlocks, that its elbows also had cuffs, and that they were linked together. No zipper or ways to close or open the suit were visible. It faced the crowd again and waited.

The man approached her, took a keyring and removed the padlock on the right side of her gag, and pulled it out slowly, holding a handkerchief below it. There was a sound of surprise within the crowd as they realized how large and long the soft silicone gel penis shaped gag was. It was, without a doubt, reaching way at the back of its throat.

The man wiped the drool coming out of its mouth. He could see a smile, as it silently mouthed a “Thank You Master”.

“You may now speak.” he said.

“Thank you master.” it answered with a soft, calm, feminine voice as he stepped away.

“I was once known by the name Karen. Now my name is slave-one, and I am Master Phil’s  rubber slave.” she said.

“I am not his friend.

I am not his girlfriend.

I am not his lover.

I am not his wife.

I am ITS rubber rubberized toy.”

She made a few small steps to her left, trying to look at the floor, like trying to gather her thoughts, before turning toward the stunned crown again.

“I am no longer a woman. I am no longer a human being. I no longer have any legal rights. I’m only a living thing. Not even an animal. I have no status. I am IT.”

“Don’t worry, all this has been legally made, and, while I was still a person, with rights, I willingly signed the documents, giving away my rights and my status, but also giving Master guidelines, limits not to go over. That is what I wanted.”

“What kind of limits?” asked a woman in the first row. “I mean… you’re his to do as he pleased, right?”

“Yes, but within the limits I set up and that he agreed not to cross. For example, I’m not to be mutilated. Some people fantasies are about a living trunk, where the arms and the legs have been removed, leaving only the upper trunk, used as a fuck toy. I don’t want that, nor that he could add breast implants that would make my boobs the size of basketballs. Unless I agree, he can’t permanently intubate me for feeding, nor that he could cast me into a solid concrete block for the rest of my life. We still have to agree on what he’s about to do in some extreme cases, but the basis is trust about the guidelines that were laid out at first.”

“Wait a minute.” said a man in the middle right row. “If you are no longer a person, which means that you have no passport. You couldn’t take the plane, or leave the country? Basically, travel?”

“You’re right, I have no passport. But your dog doesn’t either. That’s why he travels in the luggage compartment. So do I. I am legally a living organism, a living thing, like a bug or a plant or a pet. I travel in the confinements of the carrying device Master chooses.”

“Like… a dog cage?” asked someone.

On that, a silver screen lowered from the ceiling and a projector was turned on, showing pictures of a heavy steel cage, equipped with cuffs welded at specific places, and rods that had very distinctive purposes.

“This is my short distance travel cage, for obvious reasons. This is used for travels of two hours at most.” She said, as the image showed her within the cage, plugged in every hole, neck held with one of the welded steel cuffs, her arms to the side of the cage, ankles and knees firmly fixed to the floor, another steel belt circling her waist. 

Then the image showed a large steel framed wooden suitcase, rather square.

“This is for a slightly longer travel time.” She said as the picture changed to see it opened in half. 

The inside was padded with red velvet and had something like a triangular table at mid height. She would be kneeling, her upper body bent down on the ‘table’.  Cuffs would restrain her ankles and below the knees. More straps would link her thighs to the underside of the table. Straps would secure her chest to the table. Her arms, tied in her back elbow touching, would get linked to the top of the case.

The image changed to one where she was secured on it, her face was buried into a soft cushion, maintained by a leather strap. There was a stunned expression on many spectators.

“I’ve travelled for six hours in that. Quite comfortable, actually.” Coughing was heard. “Finally, what I call the mummy case, used for days of travel.” She said as the image showed a case in the shape of a human body who would have its hands on its back. The case was made of carbon fibers, lined with a thick layer of neoprene. The image then showed Karen/slave-one in it. She had a gasmask with the breathing tube linked to the side. It then showed the case with the cover on it, but not fastened, with a zoom showing that it had about a one inch gap between the two parts.

“This is the amount of compression I’m subject to when they fasten the lid. I… I’m sorry. It will take just a  mo…. moment.” she said.

High pitch muted moans could be heard. Her breathing became faster and faster, until her body appeared to be shaken, then everything became calm again.

“Sorry. I do have some… Toys active at all times.” she said, a wide smile being visible behind her hood. “Where was I?… “

There was laughter.

“Ah yes, the body mold. I can’t move at all, and they can drop this case from 25 ft and I will sustain minimum damage and, although I would feel the drop, I would not be injured at all.

Wows were heard within the crowd.

“And how long did you stay in this one?”

“It lasted… hum… close to four days. We were going from North America to Australia, we had flight delays, re-routing, misplaced luggage, yes, I ended-up in Kuala Lumpur instead of Sydney. And it was a blast. Don’t think I don’t have any… entertainment in there!” she said, a wide smile visible behind the mouth hole of the heavy latex hood.

A young woman raised her hand.

“When you turned around, I didn’t see any means to take the suit off. Is this a… neck entry kind, right?”

“In fact, it WAS. This is a semi-permanent suit. It is resistant to cuts, abrasion, heavy wear and tear. It came in as a neck entry catsuit, but very difficult to put on. Then it was submitted to UV lights which shrank it. A lot.” She said, lifting a leg as much as her restraints allowed, to show it. “The shrinking also produced this permanent shine. But the shrinking made it so tight that it couldn’t be removed through the neck. The hood, made with the same rubber, has a very large yoke. So once the suit and the hood were shrunk, there’s no way to take off any of them.”

“But what happens if you need, I don’t know, surgery?” asked the same woman.

“In that case, a line of solvent is made on the suit to soften it, making a… zipper that could be cut to open the suit, where it will be cut-off and removed. However, I agree that, whatever the reason, the next suit will be twice as tight and as thick as this one, whether the replacement is due for illness or damage to the suit. The next one, three times. That, up to four times this thickness. I hope it won’t come to that, because at that point, I will be almost rigid.” She said, laughing. “But the agreement is larger than that. Master has the choice of an alternate restriction. Master could raise the lowest heel I could wear, widen cuffs and collar, tighten the corset, enlarge the gags and plugs, darken the lenses, every one could be used instead of the other. We have a complete and thorough table with actions, reactions, punishments, and the absolute limits. Master will choose. In the past 6 years I’ve been slave-one, Master had to replace the suit twice. He decided to put the restriction on the corset, which got 3cm tighter.”

“Really? That’s… weird.” Said someone Karen couldn’t pick.

“Then you must find this whole conference weird.” Said Karen/slave-one, without missing a beat.

“Are you… tied up at all times?” asked a young woman’s voice.

“By choice. By request, if you prefer. I have to be restrained, in some manner, at all times. Corseted at all times. The chastity belt should be on as much as possible. Gagged until my mouth is needed for something else or, in this case, I have to talk. Heels no lower than 10cm. Sorry, I’m now at 12cm.”

“How do you sleep?” asked the same soft voice. She searched the crown but slave-one couldn’t pinpoint it.

“By closing my eyes… Nah, seriously, it depends on Master’s wishes. Of course, it is restrained. I could be simply neck chained to the bed, or completely encased into a latex sleepsack, or into a vacbed, usually something quite comfortable. If I’m being punished, it could be a very uncomfortable position, like a hogtie, or tied spread eagled, stretched like a bowstring.

“What was your, how to put it, heaviest bondage session, or punishment?” asked a woman in her forties, obviously a master herself.

“It happened two years ago. It was one of the occasions my suit had to be replaced, and I gained 1cm on my minimum heels.

Master was doing renovations at home. I tried to help him as best as I could. Remember that I’m to be always bound up in some way. Well, to make things short, I tipped over a bucket of paint, which stained my boots. Results, one cm added to the minimum. I had to clean it. I did, staining my corset. One cm removed there. Then, as I cleaned, I didn’t put on any protective suits, and I stained my catsuit, which had to be replaced.” She said as a picture of a well stained with burgundy paint slave-one, was shown.

“But, just clean it. That’s water based paint. Should come off.”

“On normal rubber, yes, but this suit is made with breathable rubber, which means that there’s tiny, microscopic holes in it, which get filled by the paint. Instead of making the suit thicker, he opted to remove another cm off the corset. Because I laughed when it happened, he got the gag one cm longer.”

“So, that’s it? That is your heaviest punishment?”

“That? No. That was just the consequences. For the punishment, Master had something else in mind.” She said as the image showed a hot pink body cast female form, hanging in mid-air in a zero-G pose, from rings embedded in the fiberglass cast on her shoulders. Wires could be seen hanging from her crotch, and tubes up a hole on her face. The only hole. There was no other hole, not for the ears, not for the eyes.

“That was the punishment. I was wrapped in three layers of plastic wrap, then the fiberglass cast put on as tight as possible. The tubes you see in my mouth were for feeding, and also to send in oxygen rich air, because the cast was so tight around my chest, I could barely breathe. Higher oxygen level had to be provided. My health was fully monitored during that session. I was plugged, getting vibrated and zapped. It was tough. It was hard, but in the end, I got what I deserved for what I did, and I had a blast!”

“I don’t even know if I could stand more than a couple of hours like that, which probably was the time Master Phil needed to finish the paint, right.” Said a man.

“Actually, Master wanted me out of the way until all the renovations were done, which lasted two and a half weeks.”

“Holy SHIT” exclaimed the man. “Wow!”

“Eighteen days of complete immobility and restricted breathing. It took me three days to be able to walk again. But I had a blast while in there!”

“That’s still weird”. Said the woman now Karen could point.

“I don’t want to judge people, but, to most of the persons present here, you must be the weirdest…to find the rest of them weird.” She said, as people began to applaud. The woman left the room.

Different questions followed for half an hour. Once done, she thanked them all. 

Although Master Phil said that she deserved no applause, many did. Master Phil approached her and worked the gag back in place. It was obvious that it was going very deep as she seemed to struggle with it before it went fully in, then it was locked on again.

He snapped a leash to her collar and walked out of the stage with her on tow. Once they were out of the stage, he unlinked her ankles to allow her longer strolls. A slave was not to slow down its master. Tugging on the leash, he led her back to their hotel room, 8 floors up. She was looked upon in the elevators. Some were obviously drooling while others were uncertain.

Once in the room, he led her to an X frame in the second room of their suite.

“You didn’t repress the orgasm, slave-one.”

She simply lowered her head and allowed him to fasten her to the X frame, tied with every cuffs she had on, including her neck on a horizontal plank between the upper V frame of the X.

As Master Phil was putting the last touch, turning on the embedded tens unit, there was a knock on the door. He went and opened it. A young woman, long blond hair, rather tall, wearing a loose fitting white silk shirt, a dark blue knee length pencil skirt and high heels, was there.

“Is… is this Karen…. I mean… slave-one’s room?” she asked from a soft voice the Master recognized from the conference.

“Yes, it is, but she’s being punished, right now. What can I do for you?”

“P… punished? For what?”

“She couldn’t conceal the orgasm she had on stage. It’s supposed to be a no-show. Want to see her?” he said, inviting her in.

He led her to see slave-one.

“What is she… experiencing?” she asked, looking at slave-one jolt, extending a hand, wanting to touch it, but pulling it back.”

“Electroshocks. Not painful, but not comfortable either.”

“Can… May I… touch her?” she asked, looking down, submitted. “… Master?”

Master Phil was taken by surprise, but decided to play along.

“Yes, you can.”

The young woman approached, and touched, lightly at first, slave-one on her hip, slowly sliding her hand to her thighs, inner thigh, up to her steel chastity belt, feeling the vibrating dildos, and feeling the sudden contraction of the muscles as the tens unit fired. She then raised her hand, feeling the tight leather corset, creaking under each breath, but unyielding. Then her breasts, tightly encased in the thick latex. slave-one responded to the touch by soft moans. The young woman turned around. Slave-one reacting to the slightest touch.

In a swift move, she faced Master Phil and tore off her shirt and pulled her skirt down on the floor, revealing a chastity belt and bra. She looked at the floor and extended her hands as high as she could, toward Master Phil, holding a keyring.

“I am yours, Master. I want to be like slave-one. I want to be a slave. I’m willing to give away my human status.”

She stayed like that, not moving, awaiting an answer, or rather, an order.

Master Phil was stunned. It never occurred to him that something even remotely similar to that would ever happen. He was pleased, though.  Even slave-one who witnessed everything from the X frame was stunned.

“I really hope, for your sake, that this is not a prank or a dare. If you go through with this, there’s no turning back.”

“This is not a prank, a joke or a dare, Master. I wish to be like slave-one. I want to be a rubber slave.” she said, still looking at the floor, extending her arms with the keys.

Phil took the keys and the young woman turned around, joining her hands in her back, ready to be cuffed.

“I think I’d better start the paperwork…”

“Lynda. My name is Lynda.”

“slave-two.” quickly answered Master Phil. “Your name is slave-two.”

© Pete / monsterp63, July 2016

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