In the Story
Part Two
Gabrielle awoke. She reached out to try to ascertain if she dreamt on. However, the feel of cooling sweat and finding herself in her very unexotic South London rooms suggested this time it was for real, whatever real meant any more. She lay there realising her heart was beating very fast and she tried to calm her breathing. The dream had been the most intense she remembered. More than that, it had closely followed the story she had read precisely, rather than what was usually the case: things from movies or books all jumbled up in what she dreamt. She clambered from bed and went to get some water. She looked at her clock. There were three hours before she was due to leave for work. Part of her wanted to put Louise’s disk away and forget about it, but she found herself firing up her laptop and heading to the part of the story where Louise, now Seressa, had been bought by a man she simply knew as Terg. Reading the scene where he took her for the first time in the small chamber at the auction house, sent Gabrielle spiralling into an orgasm. Any concerns at continuing with reading the story were dismissed quickly from her mind and having showered, she readied herself for work with a vigour that was unusual for her.
Gabrielle woke again from the dream. It had been just like the night before, though this time she had got herself sorted sooner so that she could witness it all from when Louise arrived and was taken to be enslaved. Gabrielle was intrigued by the fact that she had not simply seen it as she had done before, but had found herself able to take some initiative. She wondered if she would be able to make it from the auction house and follow the transformed Louise back to wherever she was to be housed. Her body again coursed with the excitement of what she had seen. Despite her initial unease, Gabrielle had found herself confessing that there was something about this story with its shiny clothes and male dominance, indeed enslavement, that clearly appealed to her, just as it had to Louise. She felt a bit guilty about that, as if she was betraying what she stood for. However, she kept telling herself, she could not alter her sexuality. These desires would have been inside her, undiscovered for many years. In addition, it was clear Louise had been turned on by the same kinds of thing and that made Gabrielle feel less strange discovering her own attraction to such a fantasy.
Given how closely her dreams had followed the story, Gabrielle wondered if she was fated to watch the same one continually for many nights until finally it faded. However, reflecting on that, she wondered whether given that she had altered what she had done in this latest edition, she could take it further. Gabrielle was keen to test if, by re-writing the text, she could change things in the world she had entered. If it was only simply some kind of sophisticated dream, even changing the events subtly in that would be amazing. Gabrielle hurried to dismiss the thought that it had been something different that she had experienced; something beyond a dream. For now Gabrielle pondered what she could alter; how far she could go. She was a bit worried that if she made the changes too radical she might disrupt the dream entirely and break off whatever allowed her to ‘step’ inside it. In addition, she found she was reluctant to disrupt the story of Louise’s enslavement, which, still rather guiltily, she had to admit had been a big turn-on. She thought about what she considered sexy and then went to the bits describing the outfit that Louise was slid into. She tweaked it first so that it changed from latex to leather.
Emboldened, Gabrielle turned the outfit in the story from a catsuit to a bra top and shorts: an outfit she remembered from some video. The boots, though, had been awesome and she decided to keep these in. With a quick bit of research on the internet she found that what she had seen Louise in were called ballet boots, because they kept her toes on point. With a bit of trial and error, Gabrielle wrote it so that rather than having the boots as part of the catsuit, they were separate and stretching up beyond her knee. Like the rest of the clothes, and the opera gloves Gabrielle added as the last element of the outfit, they were now described as being of shiny black leather. Gabrielle sat back and checked her handiwork, concerned that some spelling or grammar error would break the magic she seemed to have unleashed. Reading over it, Gabrielle realised that with her modifications, Louise had lost the ring to which her leash was attached and Gabrielle went through again, adding references to a leather collar, envisaging the kind of thing she had seen on dogs. With that final alteration made, Gabrielle felt a buzz of excitement as if she was stepping on to a new level in this erotic drama. She began to think that, perhaps, she might write a story like this for herself, featuring some fictional woman, or even, more daringly, a woman she knew for real.
Gabrielle wondered whether she could spread the magic beyond this story. She guessed she had to check before writing something new only to find herself disappointed. If she was going to write stories featuring other women and men too, she guessed, then she had to see if she could include a woman who did not look like Louise. Was it only Louise who could trigger off this kind of dream? Being hesitant about how she might mess up the ‘system’, Gabrielle settled on altering Louise’s appearance in some way, but to what, she could not decide upon. Of course, she could make her taller or shorter or have a different skin colour, but that did not appeal to her; she knew whatever changes she made had to keep the story sexy, at least in the way she saw it.
Gabrielle remembered a presenter she had seen on television whose appearance had interested her. It was not that she was attracted to women, it was more that she had features that seemed to combine both a strength and a sensuousness, both characteristics which Gabrielle wished she could have. If she had been asked to sum up the woman’s appearance she would have said it was ‘cat-like’. She had long black hair pulled back in a tight pony tail that accentuated the planes of her face; almost elfin ears; angular cheekbones; a straight, sleek nose; a tapering chin; a strong but not domineering forehead with a slender brow and crafted eyebrows that seemed to accentuate the almost elliptical set of her eyes.
This appearance was not radically different to Louise Fairbank’s face, Gabrielle realised, though her hair and eyebrows were less well organised. Gabrielle thought it fun to have the enslavement pod adjust Louise’s features so that she looked just like the presenter. She laboured to get just the right phrases so that when Louise stepped out she would appear this way. In fact, the tight sleek ponytail and the glossy black hair seemed to fit what she was being turned into far better than the rather limp mousey shade permed hair Gabrielle had seen in both the online pictures and on Louise in the other world, even after her transformation. Reading over what she had changed, it pleased Gabrielle that she had the ability to polish Louise’s fantasy just that little bit more.
Of course, Gabrielle reminded herself, despite her efforts, she might never dream of this exotic place or Louise again. However, she made sure that everything was set up as before, with the laptop left on and the story file open. Gabrielle found she could not shake off the excitement and was compelled to guzzle chamomile tea in order to get to sleep.
Sleep came and Gabrielle was delighted to find herself back in the auction house. The first phases were just as before. However, this time, as Louise stepped out to begin her life as a slave, it was in a scanty leather outfit rather than an encompassing latex one. Her features had been altered too and Gabrielle had to make sure that she was looking at the correct pod; the one she had seen Louise entered above. She realised as she looked at the beautiful slave that she had been altered just as Gabrielle had written. Of course Louise had shared similarities with the presenter Gabrielle had been thinking of, but now there was no disputing the pod had changed Louise to look precisely like that woman, just as Gabrielle had hoped for. The long black hair pulled back into a pony tail, the angular, feline features and pale blue eyes complemented perfectly how she was dressed; what she had become. Whilst Gabrielle had to confess that she was excited by these differences, perhaps because of how they revealed the power she had acquired in this place, the men around Louise behaved no differently than before. The only change was that this time was that they attached a plaited leather leash to her collar before leading her off to the auction.
Perhaps even more now that, not only the outfit she wore had been changed, but also her features, Gabrielle found she was a little jealous of Louise. Of course, what was being done to her was outside anything she had experienced, probably could experience, in reality. It would be illegal, immoral in modern day Britain. Yet, this was clearly not modern day Britain; it was somewhere very different with very different rules. Rationally Gabrielle opposed slavery but could not deny that by being shown this view she was coming to have mixed feelings about it, especially when applied to individuals. Somehow Louise had created this world and its rules. Presumably she had done that voluntarily. She was free to have shaped it very differently to a place where she would have not been enslaved, in fact, Gabrielle realised now she had brought about the change from latex to leather, Louise could have created a place where she was a queen. Instead, Louise had made this world where she was transformed into a piece of property, a very beautiful, sexy piece of property admittedly, but still someone, something, that could be sold, bought and owned.
As she watched Louise, or Seressa as she guessed she would have become by now, being led away to the auction, Gabrielle knew she was incredibly happy in that state. She had selected very precisely in the text she had written what she would become and how she would be treated. Gabrielle now understood that, in London of today, for some people, some women, all the freedoms and options available were unappealing. Rather, they dreamt of a situation where choices were made for them; in fact by their very compulsion, such alternative lifestyles appeared very seductive. Being shaped by someone else removed any responsibility, any inhibition from you, but in turn that allowed you to be made into something that deep down you yearned to be.
Given that she had changed the nature of the outfit, were there other aspects of the story she could alter? Could she put herself into the story in a physical form rather than being some ghost haunting the fringes? Then Gabrielle felt a jolt as she wondered what it would be like to feel what Louise did as she went through the process played out in this dream. Was that possible or would it still be no more than a vivid dream? As she thought these things, Gabrielle realised that she had no qualms of being processed the way she had seen Louise being. What did that say about her? That she wanted to become a slave; a piece of property? Gabrielle felt embarrassed and then excited as she realised that such things did appeal to her. Even trying it out for a short time would be such a break from all the responsibilities, all the complaints, all the worries that plagued her waking life. To not only escape from these but to hand all such things to someone else entirely, just as Louise-become-Seressa did, seemed like a delicious option.
Added to these thoughts, Gabrielle had to admit Seressa was beautiful, seemingly improved by the enslaving pod even from Louise’s attractive features. Gabrielle often looked critically at herself, wondering if her nose was too prominent, her thighs too flabby, her breasts too small, her posture too slumped to not only appeal to men, but to be acknowledged as something more than just another nurse or just another tired worker on the bus. There was certainly something wonderfully naughty about thinking of herself, strutting from the enslavement pod clad in such clinging shiny clothes with her body crafted just the way she wished it could be.
Gabrielle’s head span with all these thoughts. She told herself this was not the place to work this all out: there would be time enough during the day, especially the tedious commute to work. Now she moved along the corridor in her apparently ghostly form interested in whether Seressa would attract the same buyer this time having been dressed in the leather bra and shorts. It turned out that she did, but Gabrielle guessed that given the ‘logic’ of this place, not having altered Terg or his behaviour, that had always been the destined outcome.
This time, on waking, Gabrielle headed straight to her computer, keen to get the changes in place before her shift started. Her pulse was running so fast and she was so flushed she dragged herself away from the keyboard and got herself a big glass of cold water to try to cool herself down. With rather unsteady hands, she did a find-and-replace to substitute her own name for that of Louise. She tweaked the outfit back to the one Seressa had originally worn, interested to feel, assuming this all came off, what it was like to be dressed in skin-tight latex. She altered Terg too. This would be the buyer of Seressa, her buyer now—she mischievously giggled at that thought. She altered him so he became a large black man, clean shaven and bald, more the kind that she fancied though she would never have had the courage to admit it to anyone.
Gabrielle ran through the text seeing if there was anything she had forgotten. She wondered if she was foolish thinking her changes would alter her dreams this much. Saying that, the change in the slave outfit had perfectly matched what she had written. Thus, there seemed to be no reason why these other changes, putting herself at the centre of the story, would not work too. Given that she would be being the one enslaved, to Gabrielle it seemed sensible to put in an escape route if things did not go to plan. Quickly she typed:
Just before the sale was completed a doorway opened up in front of Louise and she stepped through back into her own world.
Then she thought that it was probably a good idea to avoid anyone else from the other world stepping through to hers, so she amended it to:
Just before the sale was completed a doorway opened up in front of Louise, only she could go through it and she stepped through back into her own world. Seconds later, it disappeared.
Gabrielle wondered if she was now taking this too seriously, imagining that someone could get from her dreams across to reality. Yet she could not shake off the feeling that she had gone somewhere ‘real’; the sensations felt there had impacted on all of her senses. Gabrielle was about to save this latest change to the disk when she realised that this was wrong. Of course, now she had altered the whole story, it would be herself not Louise who would need the escape route. She corrected the name from Louise to Gabrielle, pleased she had spotted that error.
Now Gabrielle was tempted to try to go back to sleep in order to experience what she had crafted but guessed she would simply toss and turn restlessly and nothing would happen. She guessed it was better to distract herself with work and come home with genuine tiredness which was a legacy of every shift she did. At work however, Gabrielle found it difficult to concentrate and to stop her mind slipping back to the story; thinking about what it would be like to see it as a participant rather than a spectator. She was particularly keen to feel the sensation of being slid into the skin-tight catsuit.
The moment Gabrielle saw the pale, blond man in the long leather coat walking towards her, she knew her plan had worked. She only distantly remembered showering and crawling into bed. Perhaps, she reflected because that world was so distant from where she was now.
“What are you doing here?”
“I was looking at the women. I was looking at the slaves.” Gabrielle found herself saying, but then added, “This batch is one short. I am the one you need.”
Now she knew this was going the way she expected, Gabrielle had no desire to delay being processed. The man looked momentarily startled.
“You will come with me. You will be placed into a pod and you will become a slave.”
“Yes, you will turn me into a slave and I will become Seressa.”
Again the man looked a little disconcerted and Gabrielle smiled at snatching his words from him.
“I am Seressa. I am a slave to be sold.”
“Yes, yes you are; that is correct. Follow.”
Gabrielle had already begun stepping the way she knew her slaver would lead. As they headed to the lift the man spoke again.
“Now you will be dressed and transformed to be a perfect slave.”
“I can’t wait to get into one of those catsuits and to be serving my new master.” Gabrielle said smirking as she did, wondering how this would be rendered on the page.
In moments she was stepping into the lift beside him. As she did, the doors closed and the lift moved not only down but sideways as well so that when the doors opened Gabrielle found she was stepping out to be among the four women about to be moved to the pods. Like herself they were expressing a mixture of being compliant to orders they were given but also not being able to conceal their excitement about what they were about to be made into.
One by one the women were directed into the pods. Gabrielle waited her turn but went over to the last pod without being told. The doors of the penultimate pod closed and it was soon lowering from sight. Gabrielle knew that, as far as these people were concerned, she was already Seressa. A large part of Gabrielle recognised that she had no desire to be anything except Seressa. She did not really care if her mind was being manipulated. All that she had dreamt had become real and that suggested this was her true fate. Perhaps she had become Seressa when she had first had a dream of this place; all that happened here and what the women became here. The man gestured for Gabrielle to enter the final pod and she did so rapidly. The pod door closed and quickly clasps locked around her body. Gabrielle knew that there was no turning back now and that she would only step out of this pod once she had become a sex-slave.
Gabrielle felt herself being lowered down the tube. She looked down to the latex catsuit which even now small robotic arms were lifting up her body. With her own arms stretched out they were able to pull the suit up over her shoulders and slide it steadily along her arms from her fingertips past her elbows up to her armpits. Now her arms and hands were coated, the latex came over her breasts and around her neck. Gabrielle’s body felt utterly aroused being dressed this way. The sensation continued further as, from in front of her, she saw two of the shiny metal hands grasp the zip and close the glossy black latex tight over her midriff, her breasts and then her throat.
Gabrielle knew that once the dildos slid into her she would begin to be changed. She had no desire to fight against them, so she knew for certain now that she would be transformed into a slave just like she had seen in her dreams. With Gabrielle held in place, the large rubber cock eased between her splayed thighs and into her pussy, which was already highly aroused and very moist. She guessed that being slid into this catsuit had contributed to her arousal, perhaps it was something else too. From what she had seen in her dreams she knew that whatever identity the slaves had had before was swept away and replaced with a submissively sexual one. She guessed that that was what was about to happen to her. As she closed her lips around the dildo that stretched down from above and with the other vibrating deep in her pussy Gabrielle gasped realising the sensation was even more intense than she could ever have imagined. She was pleased that she had taken the decision to write herself into this story.
Gabrielle eagerly began sucking on the dildo as if it was the cock of the man she wanted most to please. She felt excited that soon it would be the black version of Terg who would buying and then using her. As she began to lick and tease, surprising herself at her skills, a loop of sensation began to flow through Gabrielle. Her submission, shown by her sucking on the dildo the machine had offered, was rewarded by greater pleasure in her pussy. The sensation rose quickly and forcefully meaning it was increasingly hard to concentrate on anything but what the machine demanded of her. Now the name Seressa reverberated through Gabrielle’s head: only Seressa was permitted to be like this. Only Seressa was allowed to be dressed this way. Only Seressa could feel as good of this. Only Seressa could exist in this pod at this moment.
Seressa orgasmed quivering, jerking back against her constraints and finding they were gone. Seressa stood free in her latex clothes, a sex slave ready to serve. The pod opened and Seressa stepped out on her high boot heels, loving how she looked and felt. She loved what she was. Any memory of who or what she had been before had gone. Seressa was leashed and led from the changing chamber through into the auction room, loving the way the boots made her move and just how shiny and tight the clothes she wore were. Eagerly she looked into the crowd seeking out tall black men among the potential buyers. That was the kind of master she wanted. She was locked into the cage where around her were other slaves. Some stood apparently dazed others were clearly delighting in new bodies, playing with their rubber-coated breasts, some even sexually pleasing each other.
Seressa felt she could not indulge in such things until she was properly sold and owned by a master she could perform for. Soon the cage was opened and she was led out to stand on a low plinth which was slowly revolving. Seressa found herself on it, stroking her shiny body as if discovering it for the first time. However, her gaze kept on returning to the crowd seeking out the faces of those men and women who were bidding on her by lifting numbered cards. Then it appeared as if her sale was coming to an end; she had reached her upper price.
For a moment, Seressa saw a doorway open just in front of her as if from nowhere. For some reason she stepped toward it, but as she reached it she realised that it must be some kind of illusion perhaps made by the lighting. She pressed against it but it would not permit her to go through. Dimly there was some recognition that this doorway was for a woman called Gabrielle not a female slave named Seressa. Seressa blinked her eyes wondering for a few moments what she had seen. Then she heard the auction coming to a close and the statement from the auctioneer that she had been sold. Seressa knew happily that her destiny was set and there was no diverging from that. She looked over to the side of the auction room to see the man who had bought her making his way from the room to pay for his new slave. As she had hoped, he was tall, black and strong, dressed in leathers that accentuated his body.
Impatient, Seressa was led from the plinth and then out of the auction room into a large space divided into small chambers. She was taken into one and her leash was tied to a ring on the wall. She lowered herself to her knees, spreading her thighs, aware now of her arousal at the approach of her master.
Then he was there. As her master entered, Seressa raised herself up on her haunches and nuzzled his crotch with her head. With clear strength he lifted her up on to her feet. Releasing his cock from his trousers he reached over to slide finger into the slit in her catsuit over her sex; it had not been zipped closed in the pod. Seressa was glad as it suggested she was eager to have his cock inside her. Her master grasped with both his hands and then thrust in, sliding his large cock deep into her pussy. Within a few thrusts, he was lifting Seressa from the floor, sliding her back and forth on his flesh as if she was a ring. Then he let her go and Seressa stumbled back, keeping upright. He ejaculated, spraying his jism over Seressa’s pristine rubber. He jerked again and again. Seressa grinned and, wiping her gloss-coated hands in his seed, took it to her mouth and licked off her fingers. Gabrielle shuddered at how utterly owned she was to take such pleasure from all that her master provided. Master was clearly pleased and that delighted Seressa. He untied her leash and led her from the auction house; outside. Seressa guessed she was being taken to her new home and her new life as a sex-slave there.
Louise stepped forward, feeling very strange. As she walked from the small room back into the bed-sitting room she realised that she was walking on tiptoes. She put her feet flat on the floor only to feel them complain at walking that way. As Louise resumed her previous stance, her mind was full of images, of half-remembered incidents, all sexual in nature. She tried to dismiss them and focus. She guessed that she had had a nightmare or been sleep walking. She might even be ill. Her mouth had a salty taste, her breasts felt heavy and her pussy sticky; oddly it was smooth—when had she shaven it? Whilst she was dressed in the pale grey teeshirt and shorts she found on the bed, they felt all wrong and for some reason she felt she needed tight, shiny clothes. She guessed she must have been having some kind of powerful sexual dream and sought to focus on more mundane issues.
Louise looked around her flat but it seemed strangely odd. The pictures on the wall, the few books on the shelf, the television, the bedspread, the lamps, all appeared very strange to her. However, the layout and the decor were familiar; this was her flat, where else could it be? Louise hobbled to the kitchen, massaging her legs and steadily the muscles seemed to be loosening. With every step, Louise felt the urge to be thrusting out her breasts which were stretching the teeshirt as it was. She found she wanted to sway her bum and she had to concentrate to stop her hand sliding down to her smooth pussy and slipping inside. The kitchen looked as slightly unusual as the bed-sitting room had done. The mugs were unfamiliar, even the brands of coffees and teas looked different.
Louise selected camomile teabags, not something she remembered drinking in the last few years, but she know they had been good at helping her settle her mind when it had been buzzing from revision when she was a student. As she had struggled to make a career as a freelance journalist and leave behind her mundane civil service job, she had moved over to strong coffee. Making a huge mug of the tea, Louise went back into the bed-sitting room. Her desk and its chair were welcomingly familiar. However, the laptop computer looked older than the one she remembered buying. This uneased her a little. If she had still been a student she would have guessed that someone had come into her room and changed things around for a joke. She tried to think back over what she had been doing the evening before. Had she been out drinking? Could someone have slipped a pill into her wine or an LSD tab into something she ate? It was common enough in London and it could quite well explain why everything seemed just a little odd and her brain was overfilled with brash, exotic, erotic images that felt like genuine memories.
The laptop was on, but was displaying the screensaver. Louise tried tapping the pad but then saw a mouse was attached. She shook this back and forward to bring the screen back to life but as she did the bulbous mug was jolted and the hot tea spilled right across the keyboard; the quantity of liquid sufficient that it flowed into the ports down the side too. Louise jumped back as splashes of tea fell on her bare legs. She went to the kitchen and grabbed kitchen roll paper to dry herself off; then brought more to mop up the deluge on the desk. The screen of the laptop was blank and even the function lights were dead. Louise tapped a couple of keys, pressing down into liquid and it was apparent the laptop would need serious repair if it was ever going to work again. There was probably no point; she would just simply replace it. As a yawn came to Louise, she suddenly realised how tired she felt and how much of her body ached almost as if, madly, gravity had become heavier. She guessed these sensations might be side-effects of whatever had been administered to her. Throwing back the duvet she did not recognise, Louise slumped into bed, tugging the cover back over her quickly. Whatever was going on, she was sure some decent sleep would make it all easier to deal with in the morning.