The effect was striking. Towering on her heels, she was entirely covered in gleaming black except for the strange breeches effect of the white bloomers. She walked across the room, intensely aware of the rod gently moving in its' grease as the chains tightened and slackened. The sensation, despite her apprehension and anger, was extraordinarily sexy. She wondered if she was really this kinky : even the heavy bloomers gave her a kind of shameful pleasure. She felt a sudden flush of determination as she thought of Guy's treachery. If she was to be healed as an unwilling prisoner she would not give him the satisfaction of watching her beg for mercy ! She was no weak kneed girl who would bend to his will and become an adoring slave ! She would play along with his game - she had, for the moment, no alternative - until she could find out more about this mysterious island and a way to escape. Then we would see how he explained all this to the police !
Despite the rigidly-laced corset, she now felt almost at ease in her costume, now one latex clad girl among many. She marched over to the door.
"Come on Maria, the half hour is up. I'm dressed and ready to report for this ridiculous game. Where do we go ?"
Maria looked troubled, shook her head slightly and shrugged, then knelt and kissed Gerda's knee. She led the way down the long passage.
Gerda strode along behind her, the breeches rustling and crackling, the rod playing gentle havoc with her emotions. She would show them that no strong willed girl could be forced into slavehood.
She had never been more wrong.
They reached a pair of swing doors and Maria, having gagged herself in accordance with the rules, wrote rapidly on the pad which hung from her belt. "This is the slaves' rest rooms. You will stay here until your master sends for you. Today will be hard for you, as it will be your first taste of slavehood, but I urge you not to resist, it will only mean punishment. Good luck !" With these ominous words she knelt, kissed Gerda's shoe and departed. Gerda watched her tightly latexed bottom with the gold chain padlocked in place disappear around the corner.
She pushed open the door and stopped in surprise. It was a huge room, with French windows opening out onto a terrace overlooking the Mediterranean. Sofa's and armchairs in black leather were scattered throughout the room. Rugs covered the parquet floor, and there was a long bar down one wall. Vaguely she noticed some impressionist paintings on the wall and a lighted bookcase with a glass front contained a fine collection of China.
But her eyes were only for the occupants of the room. There were seven girls, some sitting, some standing, all dressed startlingly in latex or rubber, and all tightly hooded. On the front of each mask was a name, and on the back was a number. One of the girls stood and came across to greet Gerda.
"You must be the new girl, you've got no name or number yet. As you can see, I'm Yvette. What's your name ?"
Through the eye slits of her tight black mask, now slick with perspiration against her skin, Gerda studied the girl, noting the superb figure and the tiny waist encircled by a corset similar to her own. She was entirely encased in a heavy red latex suit, with laced leather thigh boots and red leather briefs which were so tight they divided her bottom into two halves. Her hands were covered in long gloves, the wrists chained together with a few inches of slack.
"I'm Gerda" she stammered, "But I'm not staying, it's all a mistake. Can't you take off your mask ?"
Yvette laughed, low and pleasant. "Whatever for ? And earn fifty demerits ? Besides, I'd feel naked without it !"
Despite Gerda's previous confidence that she could outwit Le Compte, she felt a chill wind blow through her soul. "How long have you been here ? Can't you escape ?"
One of the other girls stood up with a creak of leather. She was dressed in a similar fashion to Yvette, but her arms were encased in a single long leather glove behind her back. Despite that, she moved lithely and with elegance. On her mask was the name 'Marcia'.
"You're talking to Yvette, a top level slave, why should she want to throw away all that work by trying to escape ? I've been here six months, but Yvette's been here a lot longer."
Gerda was aghast. "But why ? You sound quite cheerful about it ! Can't you get away ?"
She could just see Marcia's red lips smile through the tight mouth hole of her mask. "Who wants to ? We're highly trained slaves and have everything we want. We know how to please our man better than anyone else alive. In return we have no problems, no worries, a superb sex life, and the joy of being eternally masochistic and living both in pride and submission."
Yvette put a gloved hand on Gerda's shoulder, fondling the latex gently. "Dear Gerda, it's difficult to explain and even more difficult to understand at this moment.. The first two weeks are never easy until you adjust your mind and mentality. Try not to suffer too much and learn quickly to accept it !" She stroked Gerda's long blond hair spilling out from beneath her hood and collar. "Lovely hair ! That's the only thing I regret !" Marcia interrupted hastily, "Come and meet the others. We're all on call, but some are finishing up punishments so can't speak."
She led Gerda over to a girl who was standing immobile by a window. To Gerda's astonishment, she was encased in shiny metal armour, with steel boots with high heels. The head was a round ball of metal with three tiny holes for breathing.
Marcia smiled. "This is Tania, she is heavily rubbered under her punishment armour, and gagged and masked of course. She can hardly walk and certainly can't sit or lie down. The steel suit is almost airtight and I imagine she is perspiring like the proverbial pig by now. She has been in it almost twelve hours !"
Gerda was horrified "It's insane ! It's cruel, can't you undo it ?"
"Oh dear !" said Yvette, who had followed them over. "You really are naive ! One of the strictest rules is that you must never help or release another slave. Besides, just look at those padlocks !" She touched Tania, who obligingly turned around with a faint clank of steel. A single bar of iron ran from the back of her head to her thighs, fitting over six metal hoops which passed though appropriate holes in the bar and were all padlocked into place.
"Tania's not too unhappy - she was brought up from the punishment room only half an hour ago so she'll be released any minute, then she will have a whole day off."
"But why did they do this too her ?"
"The silly girl tried to disobey an order for dressing. Her Master had arrived from Rome and wanted her for a long Whipping. She reported in her proper costume, but had put on three pairs of thick pants underneath. After the first twenty strokes he knew something was wrong and had her stripped. She received 200 demerits and twelve hours in the steel maiden costume."
Gerda felt faint. She gazed out of the window at the sunny Mediterranean, so near and yet so far. She could feel her costume clinging coldly too her, but her imagination failed her as to what Tania must be feeling.
"They whip you / That's illegal !"
Now Marcia laughed, her large breasts jiggling under the tight latex. "You obviously haven't even started yet ! You get a training whipping every day. You'll start at fifty strokes, and work up to the daily 150. Actually, you will grow to like it. It's only the last ten that really hurt."
Gerda turned and surveyed the other girls. Three of them had their arms fixed behind their backs and were wearing heavier masks with no eyeholes or mouth slits. Another was wearing a tight black rubber leotard, out of which protruded a large, long rod making it impossible for her to sit down, quite apart from the discomfort of its' sheer girth. Her gloved wrists were handcuffed in front of her. On her head was a loose rubber hood with a long tube coming from her mouth."
"That's Sylvia," explained Marcia, "She's working off a weeks demerits. That's a rather unpleasant suffocation hood for punishment. You'll notice it is strapped tightly around her neck, and the breathing tube has a nozzle on the end allowing her just enough air to breathe. She's had it on since last night, and every now and then one of the Instructors will tighten the nozzle for a few minutes until she is almost unconscious. What they don't know is that she loves it, she can take pleasure after pleasure with that punishment. I honestly believe she deliberately incurs demerits !"
"But how ?" Gerda asked, aware that her breathing was faster and that she was both repulsed and excited. "How can she get a kick out of it ?"
Yvette smoothed up her long gloves to the very top of her arms. "Incidentally," she told Gerda, "Keep yourself always 'Tidy and Tight' which is the centres motto. You can get demerits for something as trivial as a wrinkled glove or stocking. Well, I suppose Sylvia is a born masochist and she loves her Master very much. He gets a kick out of dominating her, knowing that she is enjoying every minute of it. Actually, he is a nice little man and not tough enough on her. That's why she loves him for bringing her here. The harsher the training, the better she likes it. The trouble is he needs training as a Master, he id too lenient with her. But he only comes once a month, and she is a perfectly devoted slave to him for twenty four hours, but I swear that for the rest of the time she is hardly out of some punishment period."
Gerda turned to the other girl. "But you, for instance, you really enjoy it here ?" She was now curious, as Marcia spoke with an educated voice and seemed like an intelligent girl.
"At first I didn't.. Like you, I suppose, I was brought here under false pretences. I'm an orphan, was not a very successful actress, lived with a couple of totally unsuitable men, was dabbling in drugs, went to all the parties and didn't know, or care, where I was going in life. Then I met this very rich guy, moved in with him and eventually came down here for 'a relaxing holiday'. I was furious at first, fought against the whole idea, then suddenly I found I was looking forward to my training. It was the first time there was any discipline in my life, and not only physically but mentally as well. He didn't come back for three months, and when he did we had the most fabulous weekend together. He's a bit of a sadist, and I took great pride in accepting everything he wanted to do, even urging him on. Yes, I'm a good slave, and I love it. On my final exam to become a top level slave he and the whipping mistress gave me one thousand strokes over four hours. I think I took pleasure about eight times ! It was wonderful."