She hobbled her way, pulled by her leash, on her heel-less pointed toe boots, with her ankles linked by a very short chain. Her wrists, and elbows, tied with steel cuffs in her back, were of no use for help maintaining her balance. She had to walk rocking her hips, which were moving her whole upper body, thanks to the dreadfully tight corset crushing her from the hips to below the armpits.

And she couldn’t look down, her head being held erect by a large steel posture collar.

Her eyesight was impaired by dark lenses. She was panting, but couldn’t even moan, her mouth filled with an inflatable bag, itself filled with now hardened rubber foam, and with tubed going up her nose and down her throat. Hearing? Forget it. Well, only when it was allowed to would her hearing aids be turned on. Otherwise, she was as deaf as a post.

Her caretakers stopped her as they reached, for a lack of a better word, her workplace. They removed the steel cuffs and collar.

She could have tried to run away, but she knew that it was futile. On the push of a button, her eyesight would turn black and she would get zapped at the crotch, through her two huge dildos.

She would be recaptured within minutes and put into a punishment cell. She knows. She already tried it. 

And she had no way to take anything off, as they were held in place by a stainless steel chastity belt, welded in place. Not even her corset was coming off, as well as her full body thick and ultra-tight sprayed-on latex skin.

She knew the drill. She bent her arms forward and her caretakers grabbed her by them to lift her off, as she bent her legs at the knees.

The caretakers aligned her feet for the long tubes behind her, sliding them in their tight confinement, thanks to a very sleek coating.

By now, she was pretty much kneeling, but this was only the first part of the setup.

One of the caretakers, taking an electric screwdriver, tightened screws over the tubes, where her ankles would be, tightening an inside steel strap, trapping her legs inside the tubes. Karen wiggled her legs as the fasteners were tightened, so they would be as comfortable as they could be.

Again helped by the caretakers, she was lowered, now sitting on her ankles, and her body reclined backward up to her shoulders where it was angled forward, and again at the neck, so that her head would rest mostly straight up, which was a requirement for her… job: her sense of spatial orientation was critical, so her head had to be straight up.

Her arms were laid on each side of her into molded armrests, until her hands were resting on their respective controls: a joystick to her right hand, a series of buttons and knobs on her left hand. Those were the only things that would move.

During this time, her caretakers were plugging tubes as well as wired at her crotch. Her breathing became a little more difficult as the length of the tube increased, but she knew it was only temporary.

The caretakers took and lowered the upper part of the body mold over her body. Each inside half of the mold was coated with a thick layer of foam rubber, with a smooth latex finish, but as the cover was put in place, there was still a 3cm gap all around.

That was taken care of when the caretakers took their cordless screwdrivers and began to screw it down, pinning her down, squishing her inside the foam rubber cocoon.

Her head was pinned down, mating at the same time the multiple connections located at the spout like device she had over her gagged mouth, into similar connectors, allowing her to get fresh air pumped in, as well as water and nutrients. They had to keep her alive, didn’t they?

The mold tightening was squishing her into total immobility. The only thing she could partly move was her hands and fingers. The pressure was astounding. She simply loved it!

From the exterior, her “mold” had the look of a rather large black block of carbon fibers, stylised, with a curved, ribbed top.

They took the whole block and, using a hydraulic shop crane, lifted it and moved it to lower it inside her working “housing”.

Doing so, they mated the power, air, water, etc connectors.

Her dildos gave a very small jolt of vibration as the power was applied, which made her jerk a little. From the exterior, nothing showed.

The caretakers finalized the installation by screwing the box in place with large bolts.

She immediately began to play with the buttons on her left hand, turning the screen embedded in the “helmet” of the mold, making sure everything was in order, checking the cameras, forward, backward, sides, checking the responsiveness and readiness of the different controls at her disposal.

Everything was fine. She hit a combination of keys, giving the green light, indicating to the caretakers they could leave.

She was in standby, and she had to wait being called into action. During that time, he screen changed back to display different images, movies, clips, all related to… latex, bondage and kinky adventures.

And her vibrating dildos began to hum. Not enough to make her climax, but enough to keep her aroused, happy.

But with time, she had learned. The mix of the videos, her tight confinement, the struggling she could put on and the dildos, she was able to achieve an orgasm. She didn’t know if Madam Mary knew about it. Anyways, she never had any direct contact with Madam Mary since the poker game.

At that time, she was unemployed, but she had found a nice living playing poker. She was winning enough to pay for her little apartment and the basic necessities of life, without having to work.

One day, that woman came: posh looking, wearing a designer tight leather skirt, expensive silk blouse and leather jacket, walking in incredibly high heels. Karen was almost laughing, looking at herself, in basic stretch jeans and wedge sneakers.

The woman challenged her. Karen accepted, and won. Not easily, but that Madam Mary as she wanted to be called, was using pretty basic and standard playbook strategies. It was as if she was playing with her cards face up on the table.

She nonetheless made $540 on that game. Not that bad.

The next week, she came back and challenged Karen again. But this time, she had an offer.

“If you win,” said Madam Mary to Karen, “you keep the money. I, on the other hand, have no need for your money. So, if I win, you will work for me instead.”

“Depends. What’s the job? Cleaning your shit boxes?”

“That’s not what I had in mind for you, but if it’s what you want, that could be arranged.” calmly said the woman.

“Okay, what is it?”

“You’ll be my driver, available every hour of every day.”

“Yeah, right. And for how long? The equivalent in income, I suppose?”

“Oh, simpler than that, dear Karen. For every 10 dollars you will owe me, you will give me one week of work.”

“Right… One week of work equals 10 dollar. You’re nuts.” said Karen.

“That’s because you don’t know the half of it: you get clothed, trained, fed, cleaned, the whole gig. You will live in my mansion” she said. “That, in itself, is worth a little fortune.” she said, as she put $3000 on the table. “I’m ready to lose big, but I want to win big too.”

Karen looked at the money. She remembered how she played the last time. If she could get out of there with $1000, she would be happy. Her deal was not scaring her. She knew she had the advantage.

She accepted and they began the game. Karen could see the sweat drops forming on the sides of that crazy lady’s head. She was sweating, nervous. Bluffing.

Karen pushed all she had. She would win big.

She lost. 

She was in shock, having been tricked that way. She followed her to her limo, the next week from then on was some kind of blurr: the shaving the coating with multiple coats of rubber, the tight corset, the dreadful boots she had to learn to walk on, the constant bondage. When she was not driving the car, she was working to maintain it: washing, waxing, vacuuming, dusting, it had to be perfect. Of course, she was properly restrained the whole time.

Yes, she was the driver. The hidden-under-the-hood driver of Madam Mary’s electric autonomous, self-driving car, as she said to her friends and acquaintances. In fact, she was the brain, the computer, Madam Mary programmed herself.

To show them, Madam Mary regularly popped the hood open, to show the “brain” of the SUV. There, under the hood, right next to a large electric motor, was a large carbon fiber box, similar to the ones you would see in a car computer or anything high tech, with blinking lights and a LCD color display showing the status.

To “them” it was the status of the computer electronics and memory.

To Madam Mary, if was the health status of her rubber slave, tightly cocooned in it.

What a joke.

The reason for such a cocoon: to provide the slave safety in case of a crash.

But her setup, her predicament was not a joke. She would be in for one month of 5000km… whichever comes LAST. The last time, she was in for 11 weeks!

Then she was relieved as someone else, another girl Madam Mary tricked to pay for her dues by becoming her driver, would take her place, for one month or 5000km.

And that wasn’t all. Of course, she had to learn to drive the car, relentlessly, day after day after day. Each time she was hitting an object, a cone, or failing a maneuver or an exercise, one more day was added. Each scratch was adding one week. Each dent, one month!

Now, after a year, she had grown accustomed to it, even liked it. That was fun after all, especially the relaxing times like this one, where she was waiting for a call. That could be hours or days away.

The vibrations were getting her constantly aroused. And she knew what to do with them. She worked the muscles of her hips, of her inner thighs, amplifying the power of the vibrations. Yes, she was climbing that hill, and she was reaching the top. She was… yes, that was it , and…

A sharp and quick zap across her neck immediately cooled her down and awakened her focus. The displays changed for a GPS map with a blinking dot.

Karen, already out of her daze, quickly punched the right keys and began to drive the car.

From the exterior, the large electric SUV was suddenly coming alive, driving itself on the large lot of Madam Mary’s mansion, to head to the position of the dot, the main entrance. She was working.

How much had she done so far? How much does she have left to do? She didn’t really think about it. The only number she remembered is how much she lost.

$2465. 246 weeks. Close to five years.

Oh, that’s right. She had to add 37 days of training penalty.

And she had to be careful. If the car ever got a ticket, whatever the reason, it was an automatic one year!

She was thinking: would she challenge Madam Mary for another game of poker? 

How about double or nothing?

She reached the pick-up destination. The dildos fired a long and powerful burst to thank her for her prompt response. She closed her eyes, and it was a good thing her body was so severely restrained.

“Yes.” she thought. “Double or nothing… Double…”

© Pete / monsterp63, April 11 2019